Chapter 89: "Just trust me."
He shoved the thought deep down into the dark corners of his mind.
He needed Alice. She knew too much about the past, and she had helped him build the web around Isabella’s money.
He couldn’t kill her, but he was so fucking tired of her suffocating presence.
He breathed out slowly, forcing his rigid shoulders to drop. He switched gears instantly, his face softening into that familiar, terrifyingly handsome warmth he used whenever he needed to bend someone to his will.
He closed the distance between them, reaching out and gently taking her face in his hands.
Alice tried to pull back, her face twisted with hurt. "Don’t touch me—"
"Alice," he whispered, his thumb moving smoothly over her cheekbone, wiping away a stray tear. "Look at me."
He pressed his body close to hers, trapping her against his chest. His voice dropped into a low, hypnotic murmur, thick with fake devotion.
"Do you really think I care about Isabella? Do you really think any of this legal circus is because I want her back?"
Alice looked into his dark eyes, her breath catching, but she held onto her anger.
"You’re contesting the divorce, Kian. You’re fighting for her."
"And we’ve had this conversation. I am fighting to destroy her," Kian said softly, a dark, wicked smile curving his lips.
He leaned down, pressing his forehead against hers, his eyes sparkling with a cold, terrifying intensity.
"I hate her, Alice. I hate her more than you could ever fathom. I hate the way she looks at me now. I hate the way she ran to Kazarov. I don’t want to save her. I want to draw her back into my hands so I can put an end to her myself."
Alice’s stomach dropped. The sheer coldness in his voice made a shiver run down her spine.
"You... you mean it? You’re going to kill her?"
"I am going to pull the trigger myself and blow her fucking brains out," Kian lied smoothly, his eyes never leaving hers as he stroked her cheek.
"I am going to hurt her, break her spirit, and make sure she never draws another breath to threaten us. But I can only do that if she comes back to this house. I need the court to force her back under my control."
He slid his hands down to her waist, pulling her flush against his hips. "All of this... every lie I tell in that courtroom... it’s all for us. For our future. For the castle in Paris we promised we’d buy together once all of this is over."
Alice looked at him, her chest heaving. The anger in her heart began to melt under his touch, replaced by the dangerous, addicting warmth of his attention. "Paris?" she whispered.
"Paris," Kian murmured, leaning down and pressing his lips firmly against hers.
He kissed her deeply, his hands gripping her hair, pulling her into him until she let out a soft sigh and melted against his chest, completely wrapped around his finger once again.
"Just sit quiet, my love," he whispered against her lips. "Let me do the work. Just trust me."
...
Later that evening, the heavy iron gates of Aaron Kazarov’s private residence opened to allow a single black sedan to exit.
In the back seat sat Clara, the maid.
Aaron had given orders earlier that afternoon for specific fresh produce, high-grade organic meats, and imported teas to be bought from a high-end specialty market in the city to help settle Isabella’s ongoing nausea.
Because Clara was one of the senior domestic staff members responsible for kitchen logistics, she was sent to handle the purchase.
She was escorted by two of Aaron’s private security guards, broad, imposing men in dark suits who sat in the front seats of the car, saying nothing.
Clara sat in the back, her hands tightly clasped in her lap. She was terrified.
Ever since Aaron had caught her outside Isabella’s bedroom door that morning, her heart hadn’t stopped pounding.
Every time a guard looked at her in the rearview mirror, she flinched.
Every time someone spoke to her, her voice trembled. The sheer weight of Aaron’s presence in that house hung over her like a dark cloud. She was utterly paranoid that he knew what she was doing.
The car pulled up to the curb outside the gourmet market. One of the guards got out, opening the door for her. "We’ll wait near the entrance, Clara. Take your time."
"Thank you," she squeaked, grabbing her handbag and walking quickly inside.
She walked through the wide, brightly lit aisles, picking up the requested herbal teas and light crackers, but her mind wasn’t on the food. Her phone was heavy in her coat pocket.
She couldn’t call from the main estate anymore. She knew the house lines were monitored, and Aaron’s men were everywhere. This was her only chance.
Clara glanced over her shoulder. One of the guards was standing near the glass doors, watching the street.
She quickly turned down the back aisle and slipped into the single-occupancy customer restroom. She locked the heavy wooden door behind her, sliding the bolt into place with a sharp ’clack’.
Her hands were shaking so violently she almost dropped her phone as she pulled it out. She dialed Kian’s private number, holding the receiver to her ear, listening to the agonizingly slow rings.
...
Back in his private office at the Kingston estate, Kian sat behind his desk, reviewing a stack of financial documents. Across from him, Alice was curled comfortably into the couch, sipping a glass of wine as she looked over the company’s reports with him.
His phone vibrated on the desk.
Kian looked down and saw the number flashing on the screen.
He picked up the phone, keeping his voice entirely calm and businesslike, as if answering a routine corporate call in front of Alice.
"Carter speaking," he said smoothly.
"Mr. Carter!" Clara’s panicked voice hissed through the receiver, echoing faintly off the bathroom tiles. "It’s me! I’m outside the residence!"
Kian glanced at Alice, who was idly twirling a strand of her hair. "Yes, go ahead. I’m listening."
"Mr. Carter, I can’t do this anymore!" Clara sobbed quietly, holding her hand over her mouth. "Mr. Kazarov... I think he suspects me! He almost caught me this morning and I thought my heart was going to stop! I want out, sir!"
Kian’s expression didn’t change. "That won’t be necessary. Just provide the report."
"Listen to me sir!" Clara whispered urgently. "Mr. Kazarov called for the doctor today! I eavesdropped outside the door while Mr. Kazarov was inside with her!"
Kian leaned back in his chair, his tone cold and measured. "And?"
"She’s not just sick, Mr. Carter!" Clara stammered, her voice shaking with terror. "I heard the doctor say it clear as day! Her blood pressure is low because of the first trimester! The nausea is from hormone surges! Mr. Carter... Isabella is pregnant!"
The world stopped.
The air left Kian’s lungs in a single, silent gasp.
Time seemed to slow down to a crawl. The light in the office, the sound of the air conditioner, the weight of Alice’s arm on his shoulder, everything vanished, leaving only a deafening, terrifying silence inside his head.
His hand froze around the phone. His eyes went completely wide, staring blankly at the dark wood of his desk.
’Pregnant.’
’Isabella is pregnant.’
On the other end of the line, Clara waited, hearing nothing but heavy, hollow silence.
"Mr. Carter?" Clara whispered nervously, her voice rising in panic. "Mr. Carter, are you there? Did you hear me?"
Kian didn’t answer. He couldn’t speak. He couldn’t move. The phone remained pressed against his ear, his knuckles turning white as the dark, violent truth sank deep into his soul.