Page 127 of Carnal Games

“I don’t like owing anybody a favor.” Being in debt to a man like Darian Grover is an invitation to bloodshed. Yet again, Iris has me breaking another rule of mine.

“What changed your mind?”

“It became personal.”When they came after her. “I’ll handle the person responsible on my own.”

“I’ll catch him,” he says solemnly. “I’ll also need access to your company and every employee. Approaching them from outside would not be wise.”

I nod, expecting it. “I’ll hire you as an associate.” Eyeing his leather jacket, I drawl, “There’s a dress code. Can you clean up?”

He smirks. “Don’t worry about me blending in.”

***

I enter my apartment around ten p.m., expecting dead silence and Iris to be asleep. Instead, the delicious aroma of food tickles my nostrils, stirring a rumble in my stomach. Reminding I haven’t eaten dinner. After Zenith left, I became busy going over the accounting books of the club with Zain.

Lured by the scent, I round the hall and pull up short.

Have I come to the wrong address? This can’t be the same place I return to every night or morning, depending on whether I’m coming from the club or Kinetic.

An adorable little hummingbird named Iris flutters around in my kitchen—the least used space in my apartment—while singing a tune and swaying her hips, making herself right at home.

As the shock wears off, concern and interest creep in.

“I told you no dancing or cooking, little rainbow.” Fuck. The endearment slips out before I can think better of it.

Jumping at my voice, she spins around, holding a spatula in her hand as a weapon. She immediately lowers it, seeing it’s me. “Whoa, Kian! Don’t scare a woman like that.”

“You should be taking it easy and resting.”

Ignoring my words completely, she smiles brightly. “You’re home early.”

Her greeting and the happiness in it knock me square in the chest. Another pang hits my heart at the domestic atmosphere in the room. It’s not a scene I imagined walking into in my wildest dreams.

Iris doesn’t know, but she’s the first woman to have ever been in my apartment.

She feels like she belongs here. I don’t understand the sentiment.

Temporarily.

She’s here for a couple weeks. I cannot forget that or let myself get attached to her presence in every corner of my space. Or letting her go will become impossible.

My eyes roam down her outfit, becoming glued to the apron tied around her waist. A different one with butterflies on them instead of cute, tiny bears.

I scowl hard at the light blue T-shirt she’s wearing underneath. It’s two sizes too big on her small frame, slidingdown one slender shoulder and revealing creamy skin. Long enough that I can’t tell if she has anything on underneath.

It’s a man’s shirt.

Couldn’t she do me the courtesy of not flaunting around in her fiancé’s clothes in my house? It’smyshirt she should be wearing under my roof.

I bite my tongue from issuing it as a condition for living with me.

Or I could destroy all of Nathan’s T-shirts she owns.

Walking in farther, I tilt my head. “When did your friends leave?”

“They… umm.” Her gaze drops, folding her bottom lip between her teeth as I remove my suit jacket and dump it on the couch. I pause from removing my cuff links. She blinks, finishing her answer in a trembling tone. “Left an hour ago.”

She was alone for an hour? My gut twists. “Didn’t I tell you to call me immediately?”

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