Chapter 3

Mila's POV

Killian Knight—the most dangerous man in the U.S.A. A mafia boss. A contract killer. Married. I repeated the mantra to myself, willing away the electric charge coursing through me. My guest room was the last one in the corridor. I thanked Nina, shut the door behind her, and tossed my bag onto the four-poster bed. Pouring myself a glass of water, I downed it in seconds.

Maybe I’d neglected my body’s physical needs for far too long. There was no way I could be attracted to danger. Throwing myself onto the bed, I took a few calming breaths. This had to be some form of shock. Before I could dwell on it further, my phone rang.

It was J. “Are you serious?” Her incredulous tone greeted me.

I sighed. “I know. I couldn’t get out of it. I tried.” “You’re in Killian Knight’s house!”

I shivered—for reasons that had nothing to do with fear.

“I know,” I replied quietly. J sighed, clearly worried. “Look, I’m cool with a lot of things, and if he were anyone else, I’d say seduce him and take the Anderson empire. But M! He’s dangerous. Get out of there! We don’t know what your evil stepmother is planning.”

I swallowed hard. It would be foolish to say I wasn’t wary, but Jina didn’t need to know that. She was worried enough for the both of us.

“Don’t worry. No one’s going to kill me here,” I scoffed. I hope.

“This isn’t something to take lightly. The man runs a contract killer organization!” she whisper-hissed.

“And it makes no sense to kill me here,” I mimicked her tone.

“You just like to play with fire.”

“What’s life without a little danger?”

“I don’t need you quoting Harry Potter to me. We have K for that,” she snapped.

I snickered.

“Mila.”

Her serious tone stopped me.

“Hm?”

“Just don’t die.”

“Yes, ma’am.” I hung up, and the smile slipped from my face.

Kate later asked us to gather at the living room, everyone was here except my father and Killian. Kate offered us to take on a tour of the beach house. The last stop of the three story beach house was the pool on the ground floor.

Honestly, I’d rather be with J and K than here. My stepmother’s scheming could rot in hell. As the others retreated inside, I lingered by the poolside. No one noticed as I crouched down, resting my chin on my knees. My heart felt heavy with a sense of lack. My family was always fake, carefully curated for appearances. My father’s indifference, my stepmother’s schemes, and my siblings’ endless competition made it impossible to feel anything real. Even Kate’s warm smiles felt staged, a part of her duty as a host.

Everything here was a charade, just like my life. When would I experience something genuine?

“Do you swim?”

Startled, I nearly tumbled into the water, but a strong arm wrapped around my waist, pulling me back from inches away from breaking the surface. I gasped as I collided with something solid.

The relaxed air thickened around us, and warmth spread from my stomach to my chest. Cinnamon and coffee enveloped my senses as I looked up. Killian’s dark eyes met mine, their lethal glint holding me captive.

“Mr. Knight,” I whispered.

We both were on the floor. I quickly put some distance between us, standing as he got up smoothly, resting an arm on his knee. The corner of his lips turned up. Why did those lips look so soft and inviting as he looked up at me, his hair falling onto his forehead as he cocked his head to the side? Did he look at everyone like that? Like he knew every secret they held, or he could see straight into the core of them?

“Are you alright?”

I nodded. I couldn’t trust my voice right now. I didn’t think I had enough air in my lungs to speak, anyway. I should have moved, but my feet stayed rooted there. He got up swiftly, his movements smooth.

“I didn’t mean to startle you. My apologies,” he said softly, giving a little nod.

I nodded and stepped back. “It’s fine. I will…” I pointed to the door leading inside.

“You didn’t answer.” His voice was soft, alluring. “About?” I turned back to look at him in confusion. “Do you swim?”

“I don’t know how to swim, but it’s nice here,” I said.

Is telling a certified killer you can’t swim a good idea? Nope. I needed to get out of his presence. I didn’t have control of my mind—or my mouth—around him.

“Mila!” Franny’s voice came floating.

Thank God for her. “I should go,” I said, moving quickly.

I exhaled the moment I was out of his sight.

Killian's POV

The dinner table was set. All that was left was to choose a wine. I went to the back of the house and opened the cellar door. My grandfather’s wine collection was vast, filled with complex and meticulously aged vintage blends. Now, some of my choices were part of the collection too. Under the yellow light of the basement, I walked through the aisle, mulling over my options. Finally, I made my choice—Dal Forno Romano Amarone della Valpolicella. Aged meticulously for over a decade, it held notes of dark chocolate, espresso, and a subtle spice. As I headed back upstairs, wine in hand, I passed the staircase toward the kitchen. The sound of light footsteps made me pause. A glimpse out of the corner of my eye stopped me in my tracks. And there she was.

Mila stood at the top of the staircase, looking down at her feet. Trails of red hair framed her small, square face, falling from a delicate half-braid. The rest of her hair flowed in soft waves over her shoulders. She wore a simple white, long-sleeved V-neck dress that fell below her knees, its hem tinged with a soft shade of blue. I smiled. She was simple, yet there was something about the way she carried herself that made her impossible to ignore.

Finally, her gaze lifted, and those sea-green eyes widened when they met mine.

I smirked in greeting. For several seconds, no breath passed between us. “Are you just going to stand there?” I asked, breaking the silence. At my question, her feet moved—only for her to miss a step.

“Mila,” I called her name. Was this the first time I’d said it out loud? I couldn’t be sure. For last 6 hours I am only thinking about her.

“Are you not planning to join us?” I eased my smile and extended a hand.

She looked at it, her expression softening instead of becoming wary, like most people in my presence.

“Come with me.”

She descended a couple of steps before stopping, a small frown appearing as she looked up at me.

When she reached the last step, I didn’t move aside. Her red lips parted slightly.

“Can you drink?” I asked.

“Legally, no,” she shrugged.

“How old are you?”

“I’ll be 21 in a month.”

“You’re young.” She stepped back a little, breaking our eye contact.

“Do I look older to you?” She tried to step around me.

“No.”

“Then what do I look like?” I finally moved, letting her pass, the angle bringing her head close to my chin. I leaned toward her ear.

“The most beautiful woman I’ve ever seen.”

She stopped, turning sharply to look at me. Her sea-green eyes weren’t filled with confusion—but awareness. A spark of disbelief flickered in their depths.

“You shouldn’t be saying that,” she whispered. She didn’t look offended or put off.

“I like to state facts.” Blowing a stray strand of hair from her cheek, I walked away with a teasing smile.