Page 88 of Velvet Corruption

“I do take care of me.”

His gaze darted between my hand and the soaked clothes still lining the hall like a trail of breadcrumbs.

“Okay. Point taken.”

Alek leaned in, voice low. “You don’t get to be reckless anymore.” His gaze met mine. “Not when people need you. Not when your daughter needs you.”

Rosie. My campaign. Everything.

I exhaled.

And then, slowly, I picked up the gun. Alek nodded, satisfied. “Good.”

I let out a shaky breath. “I hate you.”

He smirked. “You love me.”

I didn’t argue.

I just shut the box, locking away the weight of what I’d just agreed to. For better or worse, I was carrying again.

And something told me I’d need it.

Chapter Nineteen: Kieran

She had told me to stay away.

I hadn’t listened.

It had been weeks. Long enough for her stitches to come out, for the bruising to fade, for the city to forget the near-scandal she almost walked into at the ER. But I hadn’t forgotten. I hadn’t stopped watching.

I told myself I was doing my job. That I was protecting her from Tristan, from what he might do if he thought she was getting too close. That she was still a threat to the family. That I was still following orders.

But it was a lie.

I wasn’t standing outside her office building at midnight because of orders. I was here because I needed to be. Because every day I didn’t see her, didn’t touch her, didn’t hear her voice—I went a little more insane.

She hadn’t noticed me yet. She never did. Or maybe she did and just didn’t want to look too closely. Either way, I wasn’t hiding. Not really. If she glanced even once, really looked, she’d see me.

I leaned against the hood of the car like I owned the fucking street, cigarette burning low between my fingers, hood pulled down just enough to keep the streetlights out of my eyes.

She moved like she didn’t know someone was watching her. Like no one had ever laid claim to her. Like her body didn’t belong to anyone.

I wanted to change that.

Not just because it would make my job easier. Not because I needed leverage. But because it drove me fucking insane to think of her walking around like that—untouched, unclaimed, pretending like what happened between us hadn’t shaken her just as much as it had shattered me.

She’d told me to stay away.

But she hadn’t said I couldn’t watch. Hadn’t said I couldn’t want.

And fuck me, I wanted. Wanted to push her up against the wall of that pristine campaign office and make her say my name like a prayer and a curse, until there was no space left between hate and need.

She thought she could shut me out. Pretend I wasn’t circling, waiting, hunting.

But she didn’t understand.

I wasn’t going anywhere. And when she finally looked up—really looked—I’d be right there. Waiting to drag her back where she belonged.