Chapter 92
CILLIAN
I leaned back in my chair, rolling the whiskey glass between my fingers, my eyes skimming the latest security reports on my screen.
Tonight’s headache? A high–priority security detail for an A–list actor–one of those difficult clients.
The kind that didn’t just want protection but wanted it to “aesthetically coordinated” with his image, whatever the fuck that meant.
This guy was a piece of work. He had sent over a ridiculous list of “requirements” for his security team.
“Shorter than 6’1.”
“Intimidating but not scary.”
“Sharp facial structure.”
I frowned at the screen.
“Jesus.” I muttered under my breath. Is he hiring bodyguards or casting for a goddamn movie?
When I founded Vigilon, I envisioned a high–caliber security firm that handled the most elite clientele in the world–royalty, billionaires, CEOS. the kind of people who actually needed protection.
What I didn’t account for? The absurdities that came with dealing with the ultra–rich.
Paranoid billionaires who thought their maids were spies.
Oil tycoons who needed protection from their own wives.
And now… A Hollywood star who wanted security guards that looked like his personal entourage.
I exhaled sharply and forwarded the email to my assistant. Let her deal with this bullshit.
Just as I reached for my whiskey again, the door to my office opened without so much as a knock.
Only one person had the audacity to do that.
Aiden.
He walked in with the calm, unhurried grace that defined him. Always composed. Always in control. A stark contrast to me, who thrived in calculated chaos.
“Isn’t it too early for a drink?” He muttered.
visit.
“To what do I owe the pleasure?” I quirked a brow at my ever–so–serious brother. A rare visit. Interesting. I was usually the one barging into his office, disrupting his day. This was a change of pace.
“Was on my way back home. Did a short detour.”
“Aww, you missed me?” I smirked.
“Shut up.”
Classic Aiden.
He dropped into the chair across from me, expression unreadable as always. But there was a difference in him lately. A quiet ease. A weight lifted.
I knew why.
Freya,
And Gia
Eight years back, Aiden and Freya, two complete strangers who met in a club, had slept together. She had disappeared the next morning. My brother, having no information on her, could not find her for six years. Six long years he spent obsessing over her, until two years back, he saw her at his company’s annual party.
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We also learnt that he had a five year’s old daughter, who by the way looked like an exact replica of him. Gia, she turned six recently. She was the sweetest little girl. And the only person on earth who could wrap Aiden Knight around her tiny little finger.
“You look happy.” I noted.
Aiden gave a small, rare smile. “I am.” Then, as if it were nothing, he added, “We’re expecting another baby.”
I blinked. “Wow. Congratulations, brother.”
“Four weeks along.” He confirmed, his voice softer than usual.
I leaned back, genuinely pleased. “I’m happy for you.”
Aiden shot me a knowing look. “Now don’t go all emotional on me.”
“Wouldn’t dare.”
But I meant it. For years, Aiden had been chasing a ghost. And now? He had everything he’d ever wanted–a family, love, a home.
I may not have been the sentimental type, but even I knew what that meant. He needed this. And after everything he had been through, Freya was the missing piece in his puzzle. She was good for him.
Aiden shifted back to business. “That reminds me–the annual party’s coming up. Next week.”
I sighed. “I think I’ll pass.”
His brow lifted. “I have a meeting with a high–profile client. Good business, brother.”
Aiden studied me for a second, then smirked slightly. “As you please.”
I could tell he didn’t believe me. He knew me too well.
“Go on.” I muttered. “You have something to say. I can tell.”
Aiden leaned back, casual as ever. “She will be there.”
My jaw clenched.
I knew exactly who he meant.
Erica Davis.
His ever–efficient, ever–infuriating assistant.
A very annoying red head I had spent most of my life arguing with, competing with, and generally wanting to strangle.
exhaled through my nose. “No shit. She’s everywhere.”
“Well, she’s my assistant. And a damn good one.”
“Good for you” I muttered.
Aiden tilted his head. “Why do you hate her?”
“I don’t.”
“You do.”
“I don’t care enough to hate her.” I gritted out. Liar.
“She’s just so..” I struggled for words.
Aiden, ever helpful, supplied, “Aggravating.”
I exhaled sharply. “A subtle way to put it.”
He chuckled. “Yet, you seem unable to ignore her presence.”
I narrowed my eyes. “I didn’t realize you had this much free time for gossip.”
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After a long assessing look, he casually dropped. “An investor asked her to be his date to the party.”
That made me pause.
I shouldn’t care, I didn’t care.
I took a slow sip of my whiskey, “And?”
“She hasn’t said yes.” He paused, watching me closely. “She hasn’t said no either. Which means she’s considering it.”
Aiden was pushing me.
Waiting for a reaction.
I gave him nothing.
“Good for her.” I said, my voice perfectly neutral.
Aiden’s smirk deepened. “You don’t sound thrilled about it.”
I scoffed. “Because I don’t care.”
didn’t.
Not even a little bit. Not even the slightest bit irritated at the thought of her showing up with some investor.
Not even remotely pissed off at the idea of some suit putting his hands on her all night.
Not at all.
Aiden’s eyes gleamed with amusement. He knew.
“So you don’t care if some billionaire investor sweeps her right off her feet?”
I scowled. “I thought I told you that. Or is it that your old cars can’t keep up?”
“Defensive looks cute on you.”
I flipped him off. “Fuck off.”
Aiden stood, adjusting his suit, a smug grin firmly in place,
“See you at the party.”
I glared at him as he strolled out.
Smug bastard.
I swirled the whiskey in my glass, my jaw tightening.
I wasn’t going.
And it had nothing–absolutely nothing to do with Erica Davis.
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