Chapter 5

Kian

“Where is he?”

“Basement boss,” Roscoe said, leading the way. I grabbed the metal bat when I walked through the door and looked at him.

“Really? You fucking thought trying to kill while having a meeting with me was wise. Volkov?”

I hit his legs with the bat; I could hear the crunching, but I couldn’t fucking care less. I was Kian Zane Arreas. Heir to the fucking Arreas Empire, and no one was going to fuck with me and what my family built.

When I was done, he was a bloody fucking mess. I grabbed the towel and wiped the blood off my face.

“Roscoe, you know your duties. You’re in charge of her; make sure no one, especially any of my family members, goes within breathing distance of her where she works or lives"

“Yes Boss,” he said, and I knew he meant it. I walked out of there and got back into the car. Marcel was waiting.

“Boss, the madam has asked you to come to the family home,” he said.

“Good. You can take the rest of the day off.”

“Yes, boss,” he replied, closing the door and leaving.I sat back and closed my eyes. When Pops died, it all fell to me. Leading the business, the business my great-grandfather started. They came to Chicago with 100 dollars and nothing but dreams; this empire was built on blood, sweat, and tears.

We all knew it was an ambush that killed Pops, but who? I still haven’t managed to find them. He left for a meeting and ended up fucking dead. When Armando Volkov said he wanted a meeting to call a truce, I said fine, but I never believed he wanted to call a truce. So when he pulled out the gun, I wasn’t fucking surprised. When he started shooting not just at me but everyone else, I knew he was fucking crazy.

What I didn’t cater for was her. When I shielded her, I could feel her shaking. She had no idea I was looking down at her. What intrigued me wasn’t just her, but the way she felt against me. The way her small hands fisted my jacket and she buried her face in my chest.

When I pulled her into the closet, she still hadn’t let go of me. That whispered "No" did something to me. The way she said it made my body react. When she ran out, she didn’t even look back. As I was about to walk out, I saw the badge on the ground. Alessandra Cole. I handed it to Roscoe and told him I wanted everything on her.

As I was walking into the hotel, she walked into me. I knew it was her because of her voice, running into the same person twice in one night was either fucking random or a trap.

 Two days later I had her file on my desk. I read it over—all the jobs she did, where she was working. Her bank statements. What intrigued me the most was her hobbies. It was blank. Places she frequented: Blank. All she did was work and study.So it was a random coincidence that I ran into her again that night. Roscoe was kind enough to include a picture of her.

The minute I looked at that picture, my chest tightened, my heart started beating fast, and my fucking body reacted. I dropped it immediately. What the fuck was happening here? I picked up the picture and looked at it carefully. She had brown hair, her eyes were brown and she was fair-skinned, and she had a fucking smile. She had what Dante would describe as a killer body. He took this picture when she was smiling with someone, and that thought pissed me off. Who the fuck was she smiling at?

I realized I needed to find out what was happening here and exactly what type of person she was. If it was the normal, then all it would take was getting her into bed once, and she would be out of my system and mind. For two weeks I watched her,and in those two weeks I came to realize she was just trying to live,that was it. I knew I couldn’t approach her like the others; she was different.

I knew she was at that café. When she saw me, I saw the look on her face. When she began talking, I found myself listening, which was something I rarely did. Two minutes sitting with her, I realized she hadn’t even looked at the watch on my hands or my phone or talked about money. I could let my guard down around her, and that was a dangerous thing. 

I found myself smiling with her, which was rare, and in that moment I realized she was real. I knew deep down if she really knew who I was, she would run. She fought me when I took her to get the phone, but she needed it. I hated leaving her there, but Roscoe got Volkov, so I had to deal with it.

When I opened my eyes, the car was parked in front of the family home. I opened the door and got out. I took a minute and then walked in. I found my mother in the living room along with my sisters and Cathleen Colton.

When she saw me, she jumped up and hugged me. “Kian, oh my god, look at you,” she said, hugging me tighter.

“I see you've returned, Cathleen.”

She pulled away and laughed. “Of course I did; didn’t you miss me?” she asked as she took a seat. Cathleen Colton was a childhood friend; we were close, but life got in the way. I always knew that one day the topic of our marriage would come up, and it never bothered me, because that was the arrangement that was made between Pops and Carson Colton.

I took a seat. “Mother?”

“Kian, has Armando been taken care of?” she asked.

“Yes, Mother, he won’t be a problem anymore, and neither will any of the Volkov family members.”

“And the club?” she asked.

“Running smoothly. A security detail was involved, but other than that, Pedro is doing what he is supposed to do.”

“Very well. Now that Cathleen has returned, we will begin making preparations for your engagement. Why don't you and Cathleen have dinner tonight?" my mother said.

“I would love to, but unfortunately I have a meeting with the security details” I said, standing up.

“Seriously, Kian, Cathleen just returned after five years?” Alana, said. I just looked at her.

“Jesus, would it kill you to smile a bit? Always so cold and emotionless, like a robot.” Tattia said.

“Mother, control your brat.”

“Tattia, that is enough. Maybe dinner tomorrow night.” My mother said, and I knew this was the plan, and I had no way to put it off; besides, Cathleen was the approved wife. She is smart, beautiful, talented, and comes from a good family.

“Sure, I'll pick you up tomorrow and we can go to dinner. We’ll go to your favorite restaurant."

“You still remember what my favorite restaurant is.” She said,

“Of course I do.”

 I walked over and kissed my mother’s cheek and told her bye. I tossed a cushion at the little idiot on my way out. Once I was back in the car, realization hit me. Alessandra. Fuck.