Chapter 7 Anklet

Mila's POV

I didn't think this would happen. I should have, but I didn't. There wasn't much room for thought when he was kissing me. Everything that made it wrong turned on its head and felt too right. My hand went to his face, pulling him closer. One of his hands wrapped around me while the other tangled in my hair, tilting my head at just the right angle as his tongue invaded my mouth, deepening the kiss. A sheer jolt of pleasure hit my core, and I melted against him. It was a relief to feel him this close. From yesterday to this moment, I hadn't realized how exhausting resisting him had been. I savored him. He cradled my chin in his hand, his tongue stroking my lower lip in a raw, electrifying motion. The softness of his lips against mine was intoxicating, turning my insides into molten heat. It was overwhelming.

When he pulled away, I was left dazed. He unwrapped his arms from around me, resting one hand on my shoulder and the other on his forehead, touching it to mine as we caught our breaths. Half of me wanted to groan as he created distance between us, and the other half wanted to scream at myself for my lack of self-control.

Finally, I shook off the haze. Killian was sinking to one knee on the grass. Wow, I must be hallucinating, because...what the f*ck? What is he doing?

Something shiny and thin came out of his pocket. He looked less intimidating under the soft glow of the garden lights, the shadows of the night playing on his white dress shirt and dark hair. His sharp jawline seemed softer. He took my ankle, pulling my leg to his knee. I blinked, the kiss still fogging my brain. My heart squeezed. He looked up with a small smile, and I straightened, realizing I'd been leaning toward him.

"You couldn't take something because of me, so I took the liberty," he said. I looked down at my ankle and felt the cool touch of a silver chain. It was the same anklet that had gotten stuck in my hair at the shop. Somehow, it looked even prettier now. He stood, touching my chin to tilt my head so I was looking up at him. The soft look in his eyes held me captive.

"Will you forgive me for spinning your head like this?" He traced my lower lip with his thumb. My lips were still tingling from the kiss.

"Because when it comes to you, I'm finding myself more and more out of control with every passing minute."

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It was nearly impossible to get that kiss out of my mind. I couldn't believe I had let him kiss me. I paced in my guest room, his words echoing in my head.

"When it comes to you, I'm finding myself more and more out of control with every passing minute."

Am I even strong enough to resist him? I shook my head and went for a shower, letting the fog of his intoxicating scent lift. The last time someone showed interest in me, it didn't end well. There had to be something he wanted from me. But what? What could the most dangerous man in the world possibly want from me? Could he benefit from Anderson if he supported Nicolai? He didn't know anything about me beyond the fact that I was Tommen Anderson's daughter. He had no reason to dig deeper. I rubbed my temples, dried my hair, and set the towel down on the dresser. No matter how I analyzed the situation, Killian Knight's actions made no sense to me. I needed to know more. I didn't want to do this, but it was now or never. I picked up my phone and dialed K's number.

"If you're calling, it must be something big," K said, his voice too chirpy for the middle of the night.

He'd probably hit on something good today.

"Yes, it is," I replied, my tone serious.

"I need everything you can find on Killian Knight." After a long, tense pause, K found his voice again. "Unless there's another Killian Knight we know...you mean the mafia boss?" His voice shook slightly, but he was a good sport.

"Yes."

"M, you're mad! You're in his territory. The reason we've never touched him is because he's close to your father. If they find out about you, his organization has master trackers. We'll be exposed!"

"Well, circumstances are forcing me to do this. We'll have to risk it. No one's tracked us so far. When it comes to us, we're the best there is. Have some faith."

"M..." He whined a little. "He lives in our city. It's too close to home."

"I know. But I think he's playing me-or my father-and I need answers. Just do it."

"I can't say no."

"No."

"Yes, boss."

"Good."

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I wore a white bikini top with a wrap exposing my legs. My hair was loose as I sat beside Franny, trying and failing to forget about him. This was the last day of the trip. Afterward, I'd be free of this attraction. Out of sight, out of mind.

Killian, as he'd said, wasn't here-not even in the house. And that was for the best.

My phone rang, and the hair on the back of my neck stood up. Franny's eyes darted to it. I quickly got up. Usually, no one called me-I was the one who called them. Maybe it was K with a report. I checked the caller ID. Unknown. Curiosity got the better of me.

I put the phone to my ear. "You look like a siren sitting by the pool in those clothes," his voice washed over me like a tidal wave.

I glanced down at myself and then around me. He was nowhere to be seen. How is he...?

"I'm not there...yet. But I'm tempted," he said, his deep voice filled with promises. It almost dissolved the conflict inside me, last night's kiss still fresh in my memory. I bit my lower lip.

"Then how-" My eyes landed on the CCTV camera across from the pool. I gritted my teeth. "I hate CCTV cameras," I muttered.

"Thieves hate CCTV cameras," he replied.

"People under involuntary surveillance hate CCTV cameras."

"Who dares to put you under surveillance?"

"None of your business," I shot back, frustrated. He always tangled my thoughts in knots, making me say and do things I shouldn't.

"You're not under surveillance. The cameras are for the protection of the premises. You can do anything here, sweetheart, and no one will stop you," he said, his voice deepening.

"No one will ever know." His words touched something inside me, their implications endless. "I like that I can admire you from afar," he added.

"You should sound creepy."

"But you like it."

I swallowed hard.

"Tell me, sweetheart. Do you like it?" he murmured.

"That I'm admiring you from somewhere you can't see me? Do you know how much I'm dying to be near you, to kiss you...and do so much more?"

My lips parted, and I struggled to breathe.

"Do you want me to do more? Would you let me?" The yes hovered on my tongue, tasting so sweet it could end this torture. But I held it back and hung up. Quickly, I walked toward the exit. I needed to give him a piece of my mind. But Franny stopped me midway.

"You look flushed. Are you alright?" she asked, grabbing my hand. I nodded, licking my lips.

"I need a minute. I'll be back," I said with a smile and made my way to my room. On the way, I dialed K. The moment he picked up, I said, "I've sent you a location. Shut down every CCTV camera."

"You're doing things that might put a target on our heads."

"Just do it. I'll take full responsibility."

"You said it," he replied. I heard shuffling and typing.

"They have the highest-patched version," he said. "You can't get in."

"You know there's always a way. Give me two minutes," he replied, the sound of a drink-probably Coke-accompanying the clicks. "You slept last night?" I asked as I entered my room and shut the door behind me.

"No. I've been digging stuff on your guy," he said.

"What did you find?"

"Well, other than the fact that he's been running his organization for ten years, killing since he was fifteen, and never got caught-except for one high-profile murder case when he was around the same age-his record is clean. His hands, though, are not. Aside from his contract-killer organization, he also smuggles weapons and historical artifacts. His name rarely comes up, but some connections to the Shadow Knight's organization were made during high-profile theft cases."

"Anything else?" This was all I had managed to piece together myself.

"Well, he's a master at killing and stealing, but he's a god when it comes to cleaning up. I could barely find anything that might implicate him unless you want to damage his public image."

"What do you mean?" I asked, leaning on the dresser. "This is funny, but I can't think of any reason for it."

"What is it?" My patience was wearing thin.

"He's not married."

"What?" I straightened in alert. "It's a fake public marriage. His 'wife,' Kate, is actually-"

The doorknob turned, and I cut the call. A million questions swirled in my head as the man himself walked in.