Olivia’s POV
We sat at the breakfast table in silence - just and Kennedy.
Kennedy had already finished eating and was scrolling through his phone. I was shoveling food into my mouth as fast as I could, hoping to finish before he rembered I existed and started asking more questions about my supposed orphan status or distant cousin relationship.
Maxwell still hadn’t co downstairs, and despite everything, I found myself genuinely worried about him.
Should I check on him?
But what excuse could I possibly give? "Hey, I’m concerned about you. Are you okay? Are you sick? Why haven’t you co down for breakfast?"
Yeah, that would go over well.
And Kira? That was a lost cause. I knew she wasn’t coming down anyti soon. Not after the SpongeBob underwear incident. Not when she knew she’d have to face Kennedy across a breakfast table and pretend nothing had happened.
I finished my food and imdiately moved to the living room, desperate to put so distance between myself and Kennedy.
It was noon exactly when Maxwell finally ca down the stairs.
He looked... intense. His jaw was tight, his eyes darker than usual, and he had this mischievous look about him.
"Everything alright?" Kennedy asked, looking up from his phone.
"I had sothing important to sort out," Maxwell said tersely. "Are we ready to leave?"
"Aren’t you having breakfast?" Kennedy gestured to the empty table.
"A staff mber brought it upstairs." Maxwell’s eyes found mine across the room. "Where’s your girlfriend?"
Before I could answer, Kennedy stood. "I’ll go get her."
He headed for the stairs, and I watched him go with a mixture of sympathy for what Kira was about to endure and relief that I wasn’t the one who had to coax her out of her hiding spot.
*****
Kira’s POV
I stood in front of the mirror, staring at my reflection for what felt like the hundredth ti.
The dress Rita had brought up was beautiful - soft blue wrap dress that hugged my curves in all the right places. She’d also included strappy heels and gold jewelry, along with a matching clutch. Everything I needed, since I’d co here with literally nothing but the clothes on my back and ergency contraception.
I’d been dressed for over an hour. Hair done. Makeup perfect. Accessories in place.
But I couldn’t find the courage to go downstairs.
Not when I knew Kennedy would be there. Not after what had happened this morning.
God, what had gotten into ?
Why hadn’t I just woken up the first ti Olivia tried? Why had I pulled Kennedy onto the bed? Why had I tried to kiss him? Why had I said all those things out loud?
Now he would think I was still hopelessly in love with him. After all these years. Even knowing he had a wife. Even while I supposedly had a boyfriend.
I need to see Eddy. Need to force his hand.
Either my mysterious stranger showed himself, or I was done. Because if I still had feelings this strong for Kennedy after all this ti, dating an invisible man clearly wasn’t working out for .
I heard the door opening behind .
"Don’t you dare co in here, you sly fox," I warned without turning around. "I swear I will kill you."
"Are you serious about that?"
The voice that responded definitely wasn’t Olivia’s.
Oh God. Oh no.
"Kennedy," I whispered, my eyes eting his in the mirror.
"Yes, it’s Kennedy," he said, stepping fully into the room and closing the door behind him. "Not your boyfriend."
Please don’t co closer. Please don’t co closer.
But he did. Kept walking toward with slow, deliberate steps until he was standing so close I was forced to sit down in the dresser chair just to put so distance between us.
But that only made things worse.
Because now he was towering over , and I had to tilt my head back to et his eyes, which ant his... his crotch was directly at my eye level, and I absolutely could not look down, could not acknowledge its existence, had to keep my gaze firmly locked on his face.
"What... why are you here?" I stamred.
"You’ve been in here for a while." His voice was low, intimate in a way that made my skin tingle. "I wanted to make sure everything was alright."
"Everything’s fine," I said quickly. "Perfectly fine. Great, even."
Kennedy leaned down, bracing one hand on the dresser beside , the other placed casually at his back. His face was now inches from mine, his eyes locked on my lips with an intensity that made it hard to breathe.
"Did you an it?" he asked softly.
My mouth had gone completely dry. I had to lick my lips continuously to get moisture back, to be able to form words. "an... what?"
His eyes tracked the movent of my tongue across my lips like it fascinated him. Like he wanted to replace my tongue with his own.
"What you said this morning," he murmured. "Did you truly want to kiss you?"
Oh God. Does he an it? Would he actually do it if I said yes?
But how would he view if I said yes? He’d think I was a cheater. A horrible person who would betray her boyfriend without a second thought.
And he was married. Married. With a wife back in London who probably loved him and trusted him.
"It’s not appropriate," I managed, my voice barely above a whisper. "You’re married."
Kennedy shook his head slowly, and his free hand ca up to cup my face. His thumb traced my cheekbone with devastating gentleness.
"I asked you a question, Kira." His voice dropped even lower, rough and commanding. "Do you want my lips on yours? Yes or no?"
The way he was looking at . The way his thumb was stroking my skin. The way his body was so close I could feel the heat radiating off him... I was literally seconds away from tearing his clothes.
No. This is a test. It has to be a test.
He was testing . Seeing if I’d actually betray my supposed boyfriend. Seeing if I was the kind of person who would help a married man cheat on his wife.
I’m not falling for it.
I stood up abruptly, nearly knocking him back in the process. "I’m ready to go now."
I moved toward the door, putting as much distance between us as possible.
"You sure about that?" Kennedy’s voice followed , and I heard him start to walk closer.
Nope. Not doing this. Not today.
I bolted from the room, practically running down the hallway.
No way am I riding with Kennedy. I won’t survive it.
I needed to find Olivia. Needed to switch riding partners. This was all her fault anyway. If she hadn’t pushed off the bed, if she hadn’t invited her brother to our room, none of this morning’s disaster would have happened.
I ran down the stairs into the living room, only to find it empty.
Where is everyone?
I turned toward the nearest staff mber - a young woman dusting the side tables. "Excuse , where is Mr. Wellington?"
"Mr. Wellington just left, miss. He and his assistant drove off about three minutes ago."
My heart stopped. "He what? He left? How? Does he even know where he’s going?"
Maxwell didn’t know where Olivia’s parents’ house was. Or anything about this lunch except that it was a family event.
What the hell is going on?
"Is everything alright, miss?" the staff mber asked, looking concerned.
Before I could answer, I heard footsteps on the stairs behind .
"Kira!" Damien’s cheerful voice made want to scream. "There you are! You look absolutely beautiful today!"
He bounded down the stairs with that effortless energy he always had, still in pajama pants and a t-shirt, his hair looking ssy like he’d just rolled out of bed.
Which he probably had.
"I was hoping we could spend the day together," he continued, moving closer. "I had so many plans - brunch, maybe a walk through the park..."
Oh hell no.
I’d rather ride with Kennedy - with all his confusing questions and devastating proximity - than spend another second dealing with Damien and the fear that he might recognize as his bodyguard.
"Actually, Mr. Hopton and I need to leave. Right now." I spun toward the door where Kennedy was now standing, watching us with a sly smile.
"But Kira..." Damien reached for my arm. "We could include your boyfriend too! Oliver’s welco to join us. The more the rrier!"
I heard Kennedy laugh as I marched past him out the front door.
"Kira, co back!" Damien called after . "I planned everything! There’s reservations and tickets and..."
"Damien seems to be interested in you," Kennedy said as we walked to his car, his tone light with humor.
"He’s not." I muttered, climbing into the passenger seat. "And before you ask - yes, I know it looks bad. No, I’m not cheating on Oliver. Damien just... plays a lot."
Kennedy slid into the driver’s seat, that amused smile still playing at his lips. "I didn’t say anything."
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