GENESIS
"Who did this to you?" Kieran's voice was sharp with anger. I looked up at him, my vision blurry from the tears running down my cheeks.
Then I noticed it—my blood had soaked into his clothes.
My heart lurched in panic.
I spun around quickly. As I grabbed the napkin from a nearby lady, Kieran turned me back around, but I had already started wiping his coat, trying to clean the mess I'd made.
What was I thinking, jumping on him like that?
The pain wasn't even that bad. I'd gotten nosebleeds before—not just from being hit, but from overworking myself too.
So why did I react like that?
His coat looked expensive. And now, I've ruined it.
If we leave now, maybe I can wash it. Maybe then the punishment won't be as bad.
"...WHO THE FUCK TOUCHED HER?!"
Kieran's voice boomed, yanking me out of my spiraling thoughts. I looked up, startled. His hand had stopped mine from wiping him—I hadn't even realized.
"We're so sorry, sir, but the person must have left," one of the staff said nervously.
I turned my head slightly as the woman with the napkin stepped forward, holding another one in her hand. Kieran's arm tightened protectively around me, but she didn't seem bothered about that.
"Sweetheart, why did you use that one to wipe him? You're the one who's hurt," she said softly.
I shook my head. It didn't matter. This was normal. I could deal with the bleeding. It was the shame of staining him that hurt worse.
"...Luca, are you and your staff seriously trying to say no one hit her?" Kieran snapped.
One of the waiters stepped up quickly. "She tripped when someone tried to catch her, sir. No one hit her."
Kieran scoffed, his eyes narrowing as he turned to Luca. "No one would dare come near her. So who was it?"
The woman gently dabbed at my nose, and I winced a little at the sting.
"Don't do anything rash, Kieran. I'm sure Keenan didn't mean to—"
"Keenan?" Kieran cut in. "Where is he?"
"That… I don't know, but—"
"Enough, Luca." Kieran's voice had changed. It was lower, eerily calm. And he was… smiling?
Was he not angry anymore?
He turned to me, took the napkin from the woman, and gave her a polite nod. "Thank you."
And then we were moving. He held my wrist tightly, his tall frame tense as he led me outside. I stared at his broad back, feeling the handkerchief slip from my nose.
Just as we reached the car, Luca rushed up to us with a bag in hand, my notepad and pencil also with him. Relief washed over me at the sight of it.
"I'm so sorry, Kieran," Luca said, breathless. "I swear, I wasn't inside when it happened. I came out and saw her running to you."
He glanced at me, his face apologetic. "I'm really sorry about what happened."
I nodded, lowering my gaze. It wasn't his fault. I was the clumsy one.
He handed me my notepad and I accepted it with a small bow of my head. Then he turned back to Kieran. They locked eyes for a moment—something unspoken passing between them—before Luca silently handed over the bag.
Kieran took it wordlessly.
Then, without saying a thing, he moved to the car, opened the back door, placed the food inside, shut it, and opened the passenger door for me.
I stepped in. He strapped me in himself, gently, then shut the door without a word.
He didn't get in right away. Instead, he and Luca stood by the car, talking in hushed tones. From where I sat, I could only watch… and wonder.
I could see Luca nod before Kieran turned and slid into the car. He sat down, facing me, his eyes scanning my face. I bit my lip without thinking—right on the cut—and immediately tasted blood. Regret hit me hard.
He looked away and slammed his hand against the steering wheel.
"I was gone for five fucking minutes!" he roared.
I flinched. My hands shook as I fumbled for my notepad and scribbled quickly:
SORRY.
My heart pounded as I slid the note onto his thigh. He lifted his head from the steering wheel, glanced at the note—and then, to my shock, flung it out the window. His hand moved toward me, fast.
I panicked.
My arms flew up to shield my face and head, bracing for a hit that never came.
Seconds passed.
Slowly, I peeked through my arms. Kieran was frozen, staring at me with a look of confusion and horror.
"Did you think I was going to hit you, princess?"
His voice had softened. It was almost a whisper now, puzzled, like he couldn't believe what just happened. His hand still hung in the air between us, unmoving.
I didn't answer. Couldn't. My fingers trembled in my lap.
He slowly pulled his hand back and ran it through his hair. The frustration was clear in his movements, but the anger was gone.
"I'm sorry," he muttered, barely audible. "I shouldn't have shouted."
I nodded, not to forgive, but to ease the tension choking the air between us.
Silence settled in the car, thick and heavy, broken only by the steady sound of his breathing. He tapped his fingers against the wheel, stealing glances at me like he needed to keep checking I was still here, still whole.
Then he sighed and reached for me again.
I tensed—but didn't flinch. My hand tightened into fists.
His hand cupped my cheek gently, his thumb brushing the edge of my cut lip. The bleeding had stopped, thankfully, but it still stung.
"Does it hurt?" he asked, his voice low.
I shook my head.
"You don't need to lie to me, baby. I'm not gonna be angry." His jaw clenched.
I shook my head again. The truth was—it did hurt a little. But it wasn't important.
He leaned forward, and without warning, he swiped his tongue across my lips. The action was unexpected, intimate, and sent my breath hitching.
Then, in a whisper that
sent a chill down my spine, he murmured, "How should I get rid of him?"
Get rid of who?
What did that even mean?
Rid?