Chapter 25

Eliora's POV

I was sitting in my office, trying to concentrate on work, but my thoughts kept going back to the hidden note and the stalker. My phone rang.

I placed the phone to my ear, “Hello.”

“Hello, Ms. Monroe, this is Ms. Hayes, Mr. Donovan's lawyer.”

Why the hell am I being contacted by Kian's lawyer?

“How may I help you, Ms. Hayes?”

"Mr. Donovan requires the continuation of the contract, Ms. Monroe," Kian's lawyer said, her voice cold and formal. "Because he is recovering, all interviews must happen at his home. If you refuse, he will say you broke the contract."

My heart pounded. I knew the danger of breaking the contract, but he didn't have to tie it to me not coming to his apartment.

I suddenly remembered the late-night call I had with Mr. Larson before the attack. Did he by any chance contact Kian?

What the hell is Kian thinking?

The lawyer kept talking: "He believes that the attack on him was more than a warning and the only way to flush out the attacker is to maintain the illusion that everything is business as usual between you two. You are expected to move into the penthouse tonight."

“That doesn't make any sense. If that is what he believes, then I'm not supposed to be meeting him at his apartment. It would only create more suspicion.” The lawyer kept quiet for a while, probably realizing that the excuse made no sense, but…

“Ms. Monroe. You are expected to be in Mr. Donovan's penthouse tonight, or it leads to a breach in the contract which may lead to suing your company.” She kept on rumbling word after word, but all I can think of is how to punch Kian the next time I see him.

The thought of being alone in a house with Kian made my blood run cold. It was terrifying, but a different thought quickly followed.

This is a way to actually get information from Kian about the attack.

I took a shaky breath. "Tell Mr. Donovan I will be there," I said, ending the call.

I quickly told Zoey I had to move for "work reasons." I hated lying to her.

But I couldn't just tell her I am going to see my injured ex-husband who is threatening to sue my company if I don't see him, and the only reason I'm agreeing is because I wanted to gain some information from him on the anonymous text I have been receiving, which may or may not be the same person who attacked Kian.

You see? That doesn't seem like a reasonable thing to tell anyone.*

I packed a small bag, leaving Ezra safe with Margaret, and drove to Kian's high-rise building.

I can't believe I'm doing this.

…..

That evening, I stepped out of the elevator and into the vast, silent penthouse. It smelled expensive and clean. It felt less like a home and more like a high-class prison.

Kian was in the living room, sitting on a huge gray sofa. His dark brown hair wasn't slicked back as usual; they were left to fall freely over his forehead.

He wore tailored pajama pants, and I could see the fresh medical bandage sticking out from the side. He looked pale, but his eyes were sharp.

"Ms. Monroe," he greeted, his voice low.

"Mr. Donovan," I replied, putting my suitcase down. I didn't want him to see how nervous I was.

The air was thick with tension, but I didn't want to dwell on it. I took a seat opposite him and started bringing out my notepad and my laptop. Throughout the process, I could feel Kian's eyes on me, and I tried my best not to drop my laptop.

Placing it on the table, I asked, “Why did you choose to work here? Your lawyer told me a lot of things, but I want to hear it from you.”

“As you can see, I'm weak and injured.” He shrugged.

I crossed my arms and bit my lips. “Is that the real reason?”

“Yes, it is.”

“Why did you threaten to sue my company?”

“Because it's the only way to get you here.” He smirked. “And guess what? It worked.”

I rolled my eyes and sighed, “Let's just get to work.”

Think, Eliora, you need to come up with something to bring up the topic.

With that, Kian actually complied. He answered all my questions, listened to me, and he was just… obedient.

I stretched out my arms, yawning. I looked at the time. I was shocked. The whole question-and-answer took about three hours, and I was beyond exhausted.

Who knew we could actually be in a room and not try to bite each other's heads off.

“That would be all for today.” Kian's voice broke through my thoughts. “We will continue another time, but for now, you need to rest.” I could see the difficulty it took him, and I couldn't stop myself from asking:

“How is your injury?” I stood up as well.

He raised an eyebrow, a slight smirk touching his lips. "Are you finally showing some concern, Eliora?"

"It's called humanity, Kian," I said easily. “And you were stabbed, remember." His face distorted for a second that I almost missed it.

But then he just sighed and gently pulled his pajama shirt open near his ribs. The bandage there was neat, but there was a small, dark red stain blooming on the edge.

"I had to change the dressing earlier," he admitted, his voice quiet. "I think I moved too fast."

I walked closer. My legs seemed to have a mind of their own.

The closeness was immediate and unnerving. I could see the stubble on his jaw and smell the expensive, subtle scent of his skin. I forced myself to focus on the injury.

"You shouldn't have left the hospital," I scolded, pulling a small antiseptic wipe from my bag and led him back to the sofa.

“I had to," he murmured, watching my hands move toward his side.

“Why?” I looked up at him to find him looking at me intensely. Then he smirked, and my stomach did a weird twist.

“I can't be fed hospital food.” He finally said.

"You are so arrogant," I replied automatically.

I carefully peeled the old bandage away. The stitches looked tight, but the skin around them was red and bruised. I dabbed the area with antiseptic. I was hyper-aware of his warm skin beneath my cool touch.

The situation was intimate, tense, and totally unnecessary.

Someone remind me again why am I doing this?

"This is ridiculous, Kian," I muttered, starting to put on a new dressing. "You brought me here to work, not to play nurse."

He suddenly hissed, a quick, sharp intake of breath. He squeezed his eyes shut and grabbed the armrest, his jaw tight.

I panicked. "Oh, God! Did I hurt you? Did I rip a stitch? I need to call someone!" My heart jumped into my throat. The thought of him collapsing again made me cold.

Kian instantly opened his eyes, and a slow, triumphant grin spread across his face. "Great to see you still care about me."

I stared at him, my mouth dropping open, my panic turning to pure fury. He had faked the pain.

I quickly finished the bandage, pulling the tape tighter than necessary. Then, I pulled back and punched his shoulder lightly, but with force. "You don't get to joke about things like that."

Kian laughed, a genuine, deep sound that filled the room. "At least I got the reaction I wanted."

He was being... different. He seemed softer, more focused on me, less on his usual power game.

Was this really Kian, or did the injury affect his brain?

I sat up, my notepad suddenly a useless shield. "Seriously, why didn't you just stay in the hospital till you recovered?"

"Because I don't want to," he replied, his eyes holding mine.

"You've always been so arrogant."

"And you are so stubborn."

We just stared at each other, the tension rising. His eyes were warm, challenging, and confusing.

"You've really changed, Eliora," Kian said, his voice dropping, with admiration in his eyes. The look made me uncomfortable.

"And seems to get on your nerves somehow."

"No," he said, shaking his head slightly. "You always think the worst of me."

"Because that's what I see." I quickly stood up, grabbing my notepad tighter and excusing myself. I couldn't handle the heat of this conversation. 

I was only deceiving myself. this wasn't why I came here. 

"Eliora, wait," he commanded, his voice sharp.

"No, Kian. We are done with whatever conversation that was." I moved toward the door.

"No, we aren't done!" He stood up quickly, trying to stop me, the movement clearly hurting him this time. He groaned.

I turned swiftly, my anger and fear reaching a breaking point. “And what are you going to do? Are you going to force me to talk? Or what? Are you going to forcefully kiss me again!”