KIERAN'S POV
The sharp smack against my desk shattered the quiet in my office, snapping me out of the paperwork fog.
Only one person had the nerve for that kind of stunt.
"Mother."
Gaia stood there, wreathed in silk and pure outrage. Her hand - nails flawless as always - landed theatrically on my desk.
"Kieran Alessandro Moretti," she started, voice thick with accusation, "do you intend to die alone?"
I leaned back, eyeing her - taking my time, saying nothing.
"I wasn't aware I was dying."
She sounded offended when she gasped. "You are not young anymore," she shot back, flicking her hand like she could brush reality away. "You work, you manage all these assets - but where is my grandchild? Where is your wife, huh?"
I stood up - slowly. The men in this building flinched when I moved like that.
Gaia didn't even blink.
I walked around the desk and gently took her arm, guiding her to the weathered Turkish cushion by the window.
"Sit," I murmured.
She let me help her, but swatted my hand afterward as if my touch insulted her.
"I mean it, Kieran. All the other women have grandchildren by now. Meanwhile, I have to explain to everyone why my son refuses to marry."
"I'm refusing nothing."
She narrowed her eyes. "Then where's the woman?"
I said nothing, just stared out at traffic - the city buzzing below.
Gaia shifted closer, voice dropping. "If you won't pick, I will. Already got three decent proposals from the right families - "
"No."
The word came out cold and flat. It killed the air.
She froze in place.
"I won't marry out of convenience."
"Oh really? And when do you plan to get married?"
"Soon."
I sounded final - not exactly promising, just declaring my decision.
She weighed me, a big sigh escaping like she carried the world.
"If you drag your feet, I'll step in myself."
"You won't."
Our eyes locked. She caved first - she always did.
"Very soon, Mother," I told her, softer now. "You'll get what you want."
She searched my face for any crack - some feeling, maybe a hint of reassurance, or a slip of weakness.
I gave her nothing.
'but i expect results soon' pressing a kiss to my check, she left.
Instead, I kept my eyes on the city below, watching headlights blur into golden streaks. Still, my thoughts wandered. The café attendant. That look she gave me - steady, unafraid - and the way her apron failed to hide her figure.
Just a random café worker, nothing more. I don't go back for second glances.
And yet, here I was thinking about her.
Annoyed with myself, I stepped away from the window and sank back into my chair, as if sitting there would make everything fall back into place.
The door swung open without a knock.
I looked up, not bothering to hide my irritation.
Zayn.
My best friend. My biggest headache.
He walked in like he owned the building - tailored suit, no effort at all, wearing that smug grin he never seems to lose.
"Well, well," he said, sinking into the chair across from me without so much as a hello.
"Leave."
He only grinned wider. "Ouch. That's how you greet your oldest friend?"
I kept signing the papers in front of me, not bothering to look up.
Zayn slouched in his chair, looking like he'd already gotten used to me tuning him out.
"Club tonight. Everyone else'll be there. You could use a break, Kieran. There'll be gorgeous women. You're turning gray with all this work - live a little."
That's when I glanced up.
Just a glare.
Zayn didn't react. He never does.
"Fine," he shrugged, standing up. "I'll take that as a maybe."
"It's not a maybe."
"We'll see."
He played with his watch, sent me a grin, and strolled out.
The door shut, and all the noise disappeared.
I let out a slow breath.
Maybe a distraction wouldn't be so bad after all.
Later That Night
Stepping into my club, the music thumped under my shoes like the floor was alive. In the air: expensive booze and sharp ambition.
Power everywhere.
I made my way to our table, no pause.
"Well, look who's here," Zayn yelled.
"Kieran's gracing us with his presence," Oren said with a half-bow, dripping with sarcasm.
Laughter, loud and messy.
I ignored the lot and took my seat, settling in without even trying.
"At last," Ivery - the last to arrive most nights - raised his glass. "Kieran Moretti is off the leash tonight."
" Vespera's going to blow a fuse when she finds out you showed," Zayn tossed off.
Oren just smirked. "She already knows. That woman's got eyes everywhere."
I didn't reply.
Vespera and I, we had our deal. Nothing complicated.
Instead, I watched the club. Scanning, sizing up.
Dancers, show-offs, investors pretending this wasn't the reason they came.
I picked up my whiskey, let the heat drift down the back of my throat.
Then -
Something flickered in my line of sight.
Burgundy. Just a flash.
And then I saw her.
The girl from the café.
She walked in beside a honey-blonde - her friend, maybe. The two of them slipped toward the bar, either oblivious to the attention or just good at playing it off.
Or maybe she knew exactly what she was doing.
Her dress - deep burgundy silk, stuck to her like skin. Every inch intentional.
Every man noticed. Couldn't not.
Eyes followed, brazen. Hungry.
My jaw clenched.
If looks could kill, the club would be a graveyard.
She took a seat at the bar, acting bored or maybe just above it all, sipped the cocktail the bartender slid her way.
Then someone moved in front of me, blocking the view.
I was about two seconds from snapping -
"Baby."
Vespera. Of course.
She slid in next to me, perfume overwhelming, smile a little too sure of itself.
"You didn't say you were coming tonight."
"I don't tell people where I go," I said, flat.
She made a sound, frustrated. "Kieran."
I ignored her.
When I looked back, the café girl was alone. The blonde had vanished. Bartender brought her another drink. She lifted it, smooth as ever, not a clue about the mess in my head.
Then she turned. Caught my eye.
At the exact moment Vespera leaned in and pressed her lips to mine.
I didn't move.
I only held her gaze.
Slowly… deliberately… I smirked.
Shock flickered across her face.
Good.
She turned away and downed her drink in one go.
Another followed.
Then she stood.
And walked to the dance floor.
The music swallowed her.
She moved like she had something to prove. Slow. Sensual. Intentional.
Was she trying to get back at me?
A man stepped behind her.
Too close.
His hands hovered near her hips.
My fingers tightened around my glass.
He dared to let her grind against him.
I stood.
Vespera said something — I didn't hear it.
All I saw was red.
Minutes later, Sylvia slipped away from the crowd and headed toward the hallway leading to the restrooms.
Opportunity.
I followed.
Long strides. Controlled steps.
I caught her just around the corner.
Before she could react, I caged her between my body and the wall.
Her breath hitched.
"Coucou Cerise."
She frowned. "Excuse me?"
My eyes dropped briefly to her lips.
Soft. Tempting. Infuriating.
"Handsome," she began, trying to steady herself, "why are you staring—"
I kissed her.
Not gently.
Not softly.
Just enough to silence her.
Just enough to prove a point.
Her hands pressed against my chest, shoving me back.
"What is wrong with you?" she snapped. "Why are you kissing me after having that woman all over you?"
Fire.
Jealousy.
Possessiveness.
It twisted inside me before I could think.
"Marry me."
The words left my mouth before logic could intervene.
Silence.
She stared at me like I had spoken another language.
And for the first time that night—
I wasn't entirely sure why I said it.