Chapter 9 - The Ultimatum at MidnightThe private elevator hummed softly as it carried Mara and Kieran up to the forty-fifth-floor penthouse after the gala. The city lights of Chicago stretched out beneath them like a sprawling sea of diamonds, silent and distant.
Mara kicked off her designer heels the second the elevator doors slid open, letting out a long sigh of relief as her aching feet hit the cool hardwood floor.
"Celeste’s face when you threatened to buy out Gavin's father?" Mara said, tossing her clutch onto the minimalist sofa. "Absolute masterpiece. I almost felt sorry for them."
"Almost?" Kieran asked, walking over to the private bar and pouring two glasses of amber whiskey, holding one out toward her.
Mara took the glass, her fingers brushing against his. "Never. Let's be honest."
Kieran chuckled—a rich, genuine sound that he rarely let outsiders hear. He walked over to stand beside her by the massive glass window, looking out over the Chicago River.
"You handled yourself tonight like a queen, Mara," Kieran said quietly, his tone shifting from playful to serious. "High society didn't intimidate you for a second."
"They're just people with expensive clothes and empty lives," Mara replied softly, taking a small sip of the smooth whiskey. She turned her head to look at him, the glow of the city lights reflecting in his dark eyes. "Though having a ruthless billionaire standing behind me whispering threats certainly helped."
Kieran smiled faintly, taking a sip of his drink before setting the glass down on the windowsill. He turned to face her fully, closing the distance between them until she could feel the heat radiating from his chest.
"Three days down, Mara," Kieran murmured, his voice dropping into that low, hypnotic register that made her breath hitch. "Eighty-seven days left of our arrangement."
Mara’s heart did a strange, traitorous flutter against her ribs. Throughout the gala, throughout the endless handshakes and flashing cameras, the line between fake engagement and absolute reality had blurred dangerously. Every time he called her love, every time his hand rested against her waist, her body hadn't seemed to remember it was all an act.
"Are you keeping score, Mr. Vale?" she challenged softly, lifting her chin.
"Every single hour," Kieran replied, his gaze dropping briefly to her lips before snapping back to her eyes. He reached out, his long fingers gently cupping her jawline, his thumb tracing her cheekbone with a tenderness that completely belied his corporate reputation. "And with every hour that passes, I find myself regretting the terms we agreed to."
Mara’s breath caught. "What... what terms?"
"That at the end of ninety days, you have the option to walk away," Kieran whispered, his face inching closer, his breath warm against her skin.
Panic and desire collided violently inside Mara’s chest. She wanted to pull back, to remind him of the rules, to protect her fiercely guarded independence. But as his dark eyes searched hers with an intensity that stripped away all her defenses, she realized she didn't want to move an inch.
"And if I don't want to walk away?" Mara whispered, her voice barely audible above the hum of the city below.
Kieran didn't hesitate.
"Then we rewrite the contract," he murmured right before his lips met hers.
The kiss wasn't tentative or contractual. It was deep, consuming, and explosive—a collision of months of silent observation and suppressed desire. Mara’s hands found their way to the lapels of his suit jacket, pulling him closer as the world outside the glass tower dissolved into nothingness.
May you like
When they finally broke apart, both breathing heavily, Kieran rested his forehead against hers, a rare, breathtaking smile curving his lips.
"Goodnight, love," he whispered against her mouth.
