Page 59 of Deadly Oath

What I did was stupid—I can admit that now. And I put him in danger. I think of something having happened to him, of him having been hurt or worse, trying to rescue me, and my stomach tightens uncomfortably. If that had happened, it would have been my fault.

I should apologize to him,I think, as I get out and dry off, pulling on a pair of leggings and a comfortable long-sleeved shirt. I tried, earlier, but he was too focused on my punishment to really listen. With his anger worked out, if he’s still here, maybe he’ll listen now.

The scent of what smells like bacon as I step out of the bathroom is my first hint that Kian is still here. I follow it all the way to the kitchen, where I find him standing at my stove, wearing jeans and a long-sleeved henley, barefoot with his sleeves rolled up as he pushes bacon around a pan. There are eggs on the counter in a bowl, waiting to be scrambled, and a plate with a pile of pancakes covered in melting butter.

Kian turns the moment I walk in, his expression smooth. “Feel better?” he asks, and when I hesitate, he smirks. “Other than how sore I left you.”

“Yes, on both counts,” I tell him tartly, wincing as I go to sit in one of the chairs by the table. His smirk only deepens, and I glare at him, resting my elbows on the edge.

“I thought you didn’t cook, either,” I remark, and Kian chuckles.

“Remember, I said I could only cook breakfast. And since you seemed to like breakfast for dinner when I took you to the diner, I figured this was a win/win.”

“Did you go out and get groceries?” I frown at the array of food on the countertop. “I know I didn’t have all of that already.”

“I did.” He pours the eggs into a skillet, the sizzling scent of spices and butter filling the air. I breathe in, feeling my stomach rumble. It occurs to me that I haven’t eaten in nearly two days, and with that realization, I’m suddenly ravenous.

Kian must see it in my face, because he takes another plate out, putting two pancakes on it and a few slices of bacon, and bringing it to me with a bottle of syrup. “Eat,” he says abruptly. “We have things to talk about, but not with you foggy on an empty stomach.”

I frown at him, reaching for the syrup bottle, and thanking my lucky stars that I no longer need to obsess over my jeans’ size as much as I used to. I’m ready to devour anything he puts in front of me, at this point. “Kian, I know you’re angry with me?—”

He shakes his head sharply. “I’m not talking about that,” he says. “Yes, I was angry with you. You fucked up, Sabrina. You disobeyed me, and you got yourself in trouble, and you could have been badly hurt. You could have gotten me hurt, and my men, and any number of others. But that’s done with. I punished you, and I don’t think you’ll do it again.” His mouth quirks upwards slightly. “Unless you liked your punishment so much that you try to piss me off again. But I promise you, the second time won’t be so enjoyable.”

I flinch, but something stirs deep in my stomach, a curiosity about what exactly that might be. I look at my plate instead, not wanting Kian to see how easily he can manage to turn me on. I don’t want to give him the satisfaction, not right now.

“So, what do we need to talk about?” I ask finally, and he turns back to the stove without answering, making himself a plate and bringing the pan of eggs over to scoop some onto mine. He pours two glasses of orange juice—something else he must have bought,because I didn’t have it before—and sets them down as he sits in the chair to my right.

“Do you believe me now, that I have some idea of what’s going on here?” Kian asks, a small thread of irritation in his voice that I can tell he’s doing his best to quell. “That I only had your safety in mind when I told you to stay home, because I was looking into these men poking around your house?”

I swallow hard. “Yes,” I admit. “I’m sorry, Kian?—”

He shakes his head. “We’re past that. I just need you to listen to me now, Sabrina.”

I let out a long, slow breath. “Okay. I’m listening.”

“Good. The danger hasn’t passed, not completely. Do you know what they intended to do with you?”

I nod slowly. “I think so. The boss said something about ransoming me to my father. They wanted money, and they thought he would pay to have me back. He also said—” I feel my throat tighten, remembered fear washing through me. “He said that they would start sending pieces of me back to my father, if he didn’t pay right away.”

Kian’s jaw tightens, and I can see how angry that makes him, a flash of it in his eyes that’s so intense it frightens even me for a second. “They won’t do that now,” he says firmly. “Not if you’re willing to listen to me, and do as I suggest.”

That feels like a treacherous path to tread. “I don’t belong to you,” I say quietly. “You keep saying that, and I thought it was just—just something to say in the heat of the moment. But now I think you actually believe that I do.”

Kian surveys me, something in his gaze that I can’t quite read. He seems distant, suddenly, as if he’s momentarily become someone else, and fear trickles through my veins. It’s a fear that I can’t entirely put a name to, and I take another bite of my food, trying to stave it off. “You don’t belong to me,” he says finally, the words coming out almost begrudgingly—which makes no sense at all. “Not yet. But you could.”

I look up at him sharply, confusion washing over me. “What are you talking about?”

“That man, the big one who threatened you—he wasaboss. Nottheboss of their organization,” Kian clarifies. “I did a good bit of digging, over the past few days. They’re part of a small-time mafia organization that spans the Carolinas, Tennessee, Kentucky, down to Mississippi, and even into Florida. Drug-running, mostly.”

“That doesn’t sound very small.” Even as I say it, I know it’s not true. I’m well aware of what constitutes a large, powerful mafia—my father is thepakhanof one of those organizations himself. But I don’t want Kian to know that. Although, I have a feeling that he might already, depending on exactly how much digging he did.

“Comparatively,” Kian says. “Which I think you know.” He looks at me narrowly. “I’m well aware of who your father is, Sabrina, and who they were going to sell you back to. This group who kidnapped you were doing so on orders of their boss. Andthatboss isn’t going to give up so easily. Unless, of course, you had protection.”

“Protection?” I frown. “What do you mean?”

“You marry me.”

I’m not sure I heard him correctly. I stare at him for a long moment, repeating his words in my head, trying to figure out what he actually said. And then, when he remains silent, and I realize that those really were the words that came out of his mouth, I laugh. I can’t help it.

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