Page 100 of Luxe

In the back of my mind, I remember that Kylian had brought my potted plant with me and I search for it in the apartment. Finally, I remember that he'd asked his doorman to have my stuff brought up.

There's a pile of my things on the bench in the hallway outside the elevator, and I’m happy to be reunited with the plant. I gently run my finger along one of the dark green leaves, feeling a little piece of home with me. But it doesn’t last long; I catch a sight of a dark red corner poking out of my bag.

A slight panic runs through me, but I crush it down. I know what it is already, it’s not where I saw it the first time.

This time, I'm here. Safe. I'm safe here.

Gingerly, almost like I'm trying to diffuse a bomb, I pull the notebook out of the bag.

In my hands it falls open where a stack of photos was crammed in.

Photos of me... in my apartment, in various forms of undress, completely naked climbing into my bath tub. Based on what I’m wearing, photos taken over a period of months.

Photos showing me bent at the waist, bracing against the wall as Kylian fucks me from behind.

Of Kylian standing, arms folded, watching me as I stand there, waiting for him, obeying him.

Of Kylian and me, collapsed on the floor, him looking at me like... like there is no one else in the world.

My most private moments photographed and printed out, grainy and pixelated, poisoning all the memories with an acid-tipped dart.

If Kylian is anything like Nathan, this is going to destroy him. His business, daily, is shared with the world, so he fiercely protects his privacy.

And now... someone has pictures of him slapping his hand across my bare ass. His hand gripping my throat as we fuck.

"Oh my god! Kiara! Didn't you hear me call after you? I thought you'd left me again. I was scared fucking senseless!" he yells, his words an outward expression of everything I'm feeling inside.

I don't know if there's any way to hide this from him any longer, and I shouldn’t. This affects him as well.

Wordlessly, I hold the photos out for him to see, the picture of us together on the top.

He stares at them for a moment, and then, eyes wild, he knocks the notebook out of my hands and pulls me in hard against me.

"Why didn't you tell me about this before? I would’ve —"

"Would've what?” I shout. “What would you have done? It's too late now. Look!" I point to the scatted photos on the ground, picture after picture after picture of me in my most private moments. "Look! He's been watching me this whole time! I thought I was safe, but I wasn’t... he was watching the whole time!" My head falls into my hands, tears pouring down my face again. I'm drenched in humiliation. How could I have not known this was happening? "He's been watching me, he's been watching this whole time, Kylian!"

He watches me, horrified. I can't even imagine what he's thinking about me. The only source of relief is that he's the only man I've been with in my apartment. At least he doesn't have to see pictures of me with someone else.

"I... I have to go." I don't want to. I want to crawl into bed with him and pretend that my sense of safety hasn’t been ripped from me forever.

"Kiara!" He grabs my shoulder and gives me a little shake. "You are not going anywhere. Do you hear me? You are not going anywhere; I will not let you go anywhere. This is where you live now. and I will protect you. Nothing has ever mattered more to me than protecting you."

His hands dig into me, painting my skin with bruises, but I’m grateful for it. It roots me in reality.

"I... I don't want to go, but... I didn't know if you'd want me to stay."

His jaw drops. "Don't tell me you really thought that. Tell me you didn't think that, Kiara! Tell me!"

I rip myself out of his arms and run towards the living room. He's half a second behind me, reaching for the hem of my T-shirt and wrenching me into his arms. I beat my hands against his chest. Confusion, frustration, humiliation, fear, all mashing together to create an emotional storm inside me that is tearing all sense of reason apart.

"You're not going anywhere, okay? And if you did, I would follow you. To the ends of the universe and back.” He whispers it over and over and over and over until the words all melt into one and wrap around me like a shawl.

"I'm sorry," I whisper once I regain my voice.

“What for? Making me almost rip my own T-shirt?"

“No. The pictures.”

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