Page 18 of Iron Heart

“I wasn’t asking, Kingsley,” she counters, striding ahead of me.

My frustration mounts with her audacity, a fire kindling inside me that’s both irritating and invigorating.

* * *

It was like a strategic military operation maneuvering the girls back to the car, but we finally made it back to the hotel, and in time for their pamper sessions Rosie had organized.

While they’re caught up in the world of hair and makeup, I take the opportunity to conduct a security sweep of Amore Restaurant, the venue for this evening’s engagement party.That’s when I spot a potential hole in the security on the rooftop.I swiftly coordinate with local security to neutralize the potential issue.

All in a day’s work, but the sense of relief is short-lived.My thoughts drift back to her, making it clear that the real challenge tonight isn’t just about physical security.It’s also about guarding my own emotions.

Back at my villa, a black tux by designer Tom Ford is waiting for me, handpicked for tonight’s party.Stepping into it, I can’t help but appreciate the fit—damn, it’s like wearing armor but way more stylish.I slick my hair and tighten the knot of my silver tie.

Looking sharp, Kingsley.

Walking to her villa, the dressing room memory is like a siren song, playing over and over.I knock, half dreading, half eager for what was next.She swings that door open and—damn.There she is, clad in a striking red ensemble that leaves nothing to the imagination, showcasing her curves as if she owns the room.And that wild auburn hair cascading around her adding to the intensity.

It’s a test of willpower not to let my guard down.If I thought staying professional was hard before, it just became nearly impossible.

Suddenly, the scene from earlier, the zipper, the tension—it’s all right back, front and center.All I want to do is step forward and tear the dress into two.

So much for masturbating in the shower to relieve the mounting tension.

Tonight, I need to keep a safe distance from her because upholding my professionalism is becoming one hell of a challenge.

8

Victoria

If he shoots me that look one more time, I might just melt.There’s this mix of danger and desire that’s pushing me to walk ahead of him so I don’t do something I might regret later.But damn, Kingsley in a tux?It’s a sight that is doing things to me.

“I’ve conducted background checks on everyone on the guest list,” Kingsley says, his strides matching mine as we approach the entrance to Amore Restaurant.

He’s been practically silent since I swung that door open, and it infuriates me.

Why is he ignoring me like this?

I’m not usually one for petty thoughts or child-like behavior, but something about him throws me off balance, messing with my equilibrium.I want to demand his attention, not just as a professional but as—what, exactly?I can’t even put it into words, but I want more of whatever electricity seemed to crackle in that dressing room.

“Don’t you think that’s a tad overkill?Especially since they’re Vincent and Rosie’s guests?”I ask.

“I wouldn’t be doing my job if I weren’t thorough, Miss Slater.”

“Look, can you please just call me Viki or Victoria?Anything that doesn’t make me sound like I’m about to break a hip,” I shoot back, half jokingly.

Maybe it’s not just Kingsley who’s throwing me off balance.Earlier today, Lexy called me, all stressed about that article from my last Australian interview.Now, it’s been picked up and syndicated worldwide.Just great.

Then there was last night’s family dinner, which did nothing to ease the tension between us kids and Dad.And let’s not even get started on the way my parents barely communicate or tolerate each other.It’s a pattern I’ve recognized since I was younger when I caught on to my Dad’s infidelities.

It’s like life decided to throw every possible curveball at me all at once.

“No,” he counters, shutting me down.“We’re here,” he adds.

I catch a hint of his cologne, taking a second to enjoy it.Then his hand reaches out opening the door, and there’s this zap, this spark, from his touch.

When our eyes meet, his darken to a velvety mocha, as if diving into mine.The world falls away, leaving just the tension between us.

“Enjoy the party, Miss Slater.I’ll remain close,” he assures, seemingly unaware of the charged moment we just shared while he guides me up to the rooftop terrace.

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