The grand master suite of the Cross estate felt far less like a bedroom and much more like an incredibly opulent fortress. The walls were lined with rich dark mahogany, and the massive windows were forged from thick bulletproof glass.
Kieran Cross sat casually in a plush velvet armchair positioned in the center of the expansive room. A crystal glass of expensive amber whiskey rested loosely in his right hand. His face was an unreadable mask of cold authority.
"Try the next one," Kieran ordered, his deep voice leaving no room for negotiation.
"You have officially rejected fourteen different dresses," Aria argued, standing in front of the floor to ceiling mirror. She was currently wearing a stunning emerald green gown that plunged deeply in the front. "There is absolutely nothing wrong with this one."
"Take it off," Kieran stated flatly, taking a slow sip of his drink.
"Why?" Aria demanded, turning around to face him. "It fits perfectly."
"Because it is an invitation, Aria," Kieran countered, his piercing blue eyes narrowing dangerously. "And I do not share my personal invitations with the rest of the Syndicate. The Vargas gala is not a charity ball. It is a den of venomous vipers. Every single cartel boss in the southern territory will be calculating your exact worth. They will look for any vulnerability. If you walk into that mansion looking like vulnerable prey, they will treat you exactly like prey."
Madame Rossi, the most exclusive underground tailor in the entire city, trembled violently in the corner of the room. She was surrounded by rolling racks of breathtaking, priceless garments.
"Mr. Cross," Madame Rossi stammered, her thick Italian accent wavering with pure terror. "The emerald silk is imported directly from Milan. It is highly sought after by the wives of the elder council. It is considered highly elegant."
"Burn it," Kieran ordered without looking at the terrified woman twice. "It exposes entirely too much bare skin. If any man at that gala looks at her collarbone tonight, I will be forced to gouge his eyes out with my bare hands. And I do not want to ruin my evening cleaning cartel blood off my new suit. Find something else."
Madame Rossi swallowed hard and practically sprinted to the final clothing rack. She pulled out a heavy garment bag and unzipped it with shaking fingers.
Aria grabbed the heavy wooden hanger without a word and retreated back into the massive walk in closet. She stripped off the emerald silk and carefully stepped into the final option.
When she finally emerged from the closet ten minutes later, the entire master suite fell into absolute, suffocating silence.
The dress was a masterpiece of blood red silk. It clung to her curves flawlessly, sweeping down to the floor in heavy, liquid folds. The front was incredibly elegant and sharp, featuring a high neckline that demanded absolute respect and radiated quiet power. But the back was completely open, plunging dangerously low, held together by a complicated lattice of thin red silk ribbons.
Madame Rossi rushed forward to tie the back, but her hands were shaking so badly she dropped the end of the delicate silk ribbon twice.
"I am so incredibly sorry, Mr. Cross," Madame Rossi whispered, her face turning completely pale. "My hands are failing me. The pressure is too much."
"Leave us," Kieran commanded softly, setting his crystal glass down onto the mahogany side table.
Madame Rossi did not need to be told twice. She grabbed her sewing kit and practically ran out of the master suite. The heavy oak doors clicked shut behind her, sealing the room tight.
Kieran stood up from the velvet chair. His massive frame immediately dominated the entire room. He walked slowly toward her. Every single step he took against the hardwood floor felt agonizingly loud in the quiet space.
"Turn around," he instructed, his voice dropping an entire octave.
Aria obeyed, her heart hammering wildly against her ribs.
She felt the sudden, shocking heat of his large body standing mere inches behind her. His calloused, violent fingers brushed against the incredibly sensitive bare skin of her lower spine. Aria gasped softly, her entire body tensing at the unexpected, highly charged contact.
"Relax," Kieran murmured, his warm breath ghosting over the curve of her neck.
He gathered the thin red ribbons in his hands. His movements were surprisingly gentle for a man who had executed a spy with absolute brutality just hours ago. He pulled the lattice tight, securing the silk perfectly against her waist. The suffocating proximity made her head spin. She could smell the dark bergamot cologne and the faint trace of whiskey on his skin.
"You are terrified," Kieran observed softly, his rough thumbs grazing her shoulder blades before he tied the final knot at the base of her spine.
"I am walking into a cartel stronghold tonight," Aria replied, fighting desperately to keep her voice steady. "They have Chloe. They want to kill me. I have every right to be terrified."
"You are not terrified of Hector Vargas," Kieran corrected her softly, leaning down until his lips were barely a millimeter from her ear. "You are terrified of me."
"You are a monster," she whispered, squeezing her eyes shut to block out the overwhelming sensation of his touch.
"I am," he agreed smoothly, stepping back just enough to let her breathe. "But you are the most dangerous thing I have ever let inside my house, Aria. You are entirely destroying my focus. And in my violent world, a lack of focus gets people killed."
Before Aria could even process his shocking admission, Kieran reached into the deep pocket of his tailored trousers.
"Hold still," he commanded.
Aria felt something heavy and cold settle against her collarbone. She looked down at her reflection in the mirror. It was a massive, breathtaking diamond choker, set in thick platinum. It felt incredibly heavy, wrapping around her throat like a beautiful, sparkling collar.
"It is beautiful," she breathed out, touching the largest center stone. "But it is entirely too much. I cannot wear this."
"It is not jewelry," Kieran stated, stepping around to face her directly. "It is military grade technology. My personal engineers designed it specifically for tonight. The center diamond houses a microscopic panic button. If you are separated from me, if anyone touches you against your will, you press that exact stone."
"And what happens if I press it?" Aria asked, looking up into his intense blue eyes.
"A heavily armed extraction team will breach the Vargas mansion and kill every single breathing soul inside," Kieran answered without a single ounce of hesitation. "It also contains a continuous satellite tracker linked directly to my personal server. You cannot take it off. It locks magnetically."
"You are branding me," Aria realized, her fingers lingering on the cold platinum. "This is your ultimate mark of ownership."
"It is my mark of absolute protection," Kieran corrected her fiercely. He reached up, cupping her cheek with his warm palm. His thumb brushed over her lower lip. "Hector Vargas thinks he can use you as a pawn in his pathetic war against my empire. He thinks taking the innocent blonde girl will force your hand. Tonight, we show the entire Syndicate that the Architect's daughter belongs exclusively to the Cross family. Nobody touches you. Nobody speaks to you unless I allow it. Do you understand our exact terms for tonight?"
Aria stared up at the ruthless kingpin. A terrifying realization washed over her. She did not feel trapped by the heavy diamond collar. She felt incredibly safe. She was actually beginning to crave his dark, lethal protection.
"I understand," Aria whispered, completely trapped in his gravitational pull.
"Good," Kieran smiled, a dark, incredibly lethal expression taking over his handsome face. "Now, let us go burn down a cartel."