A kiss before war
979 Words
The morning light filtered into the penthouse like soft gold—but there was nothing soft about how Tricia woke up.
Alone. Again.
The silk sheets were cool beside her. The room smelled faintly of sandalwood and expensive linen, but Christopher was gone.
Just like always.
She sat up slowly, heart still heavy from the night before. The memory of the gunshot clung to her like smoke. Her palms had stopped trembling, but her mind hadn’t stopped spinning.
What kind of man could take a life without blinking?
And worse—why did she still feel drawn to him?
She slipped on the robe laid out for her—white, plush, monogrammed with the Knight family crest—and padded barefoot into the hallway. Knight Tower was silent at this hour. The security detail posted outside didn’t acknowledge her, but she could feel their eyes. Always watching. Always reporting.
She followed the faint sounds of music to the second floor.
The door was slightly ajar.
Inside the private gym, Christopher stood shirtless, his muscles slick with sweat, throwing brutal punches at a leather bag suspended from the ceiling. His form was sharp. Precise. Every movement lethal.
He didn’t notice her at first. Or maybe he did, but ignored her on purpose.
She watched him a moment too long.
His body was carved like marble—broad chest, inked veins of muscle along his back, low-slung joggers clinging to his hips. The dark tattoos that spiraled down his left side were jagged and beautiful in a broken way. One looked like a serpent. The other was Latin.
Vincit qui se vincit.
He who conquers himself.
He paused.
"You’re staring," he said, voice like steel over fire.
Tricia’s throat dried. She straightened.
"You weren't in bed."
"I never sleep more than three hours."
"That must be exhausting."
He gave a half-smile, dark and dangerous. "Only when I let myself feel things. Which I usually don’t."
"You felt something last night," she whispered. "You said I was the only thing that silences the war in your head."
His gaze met hers.
Raw. Open.
And then, like someone flicked a switch, it was gone.
He turned back to the bag. "I shouldn’t have said that."
"You meant it."
"That’s the problem."
A beat of silence.
She stepped into the room, arms crossed. "You don’t scare me, Christopher. Not the money. Not the blood. Not even the gun."
"You should be scared of all three."
"Why? So I’ll stay obedient? Stay locked in this golden tower with guards at every door?"
He walked toward her, slow and deliberate, until her back hit the mirrored wall and his breath was on her cheek.
"No," he said. "So you’ll understand me. So you’ll stop mistaking what I do for who I am."
"And who are you, then?"
His hands rose. Not to grab her. Just to rest against the mirror, caging her in without touching her.
"I’m a man who built an empire from ashes," he said lowly. "A man who protects what’s his, no matter the cost. And right now, you are what’s mine."
She looked up at him, chin raised, defiant.
"And if I don’t want to be yours?"
His lips barely brushed hers.
“Then I’ll spend every damn day making you want it.”
Then he kissed her.
It wasn’t a question. It wasn’t gentle. It was heat and fury and years of restraint shattering between them.
Her breath caught.
His mouth took control—hungry, skilled, commanding. His hand tangled in her hair, the other sliding over the silk at her waist. She gasped as he deepened the kiss, and for a moment, she forgot everything—the lies, the threats, the blood.
All that remained was him.
But she pulled back suddenly, her eyes wide, her lips parted.
“This isn’t real,” she said breathlessly.
Christopher’s gaze was hooded, intense. “It could be.”
“I don’t want to fall for someone like you.”
“Too late,” he said.
---
Later That Day – The Castelli Estate, New Jersey
Far away from Knight Tower, in a house draped in silk curtains and marble floors, Julian Castelli read the headline with a half-smile.
CHRISTOPHER KNIGHT ENGAGED TO MYSTERY GIRL
"Well, well," Julian murmured, sipping red wine. “The devil’s gone and found a bride.”
He turned the tablet toward his advisor, Dominic.
“She doesn’t look like his type,” Dominic muttered.
“She looks breakable,” Julian said. “Which makes her perfect.”
“You want to make a move on the girl?”
Julian’s smile widened, cold and cruel. “Not yet. Let him fall for her first. Let him bleed for her.”
Then he turned the page of his newspaper, humming.
Because in this world, love wasn’t weakness.
It was leverage.
---
Back at Knight Tower – Evening
Tricia stood on the balcony now, the city lights glittering below like stars made of fire. The wind teased her hair. Her heart was still racing.
The kiss had left her shaken.
And worse… wanting.
She couldn’t afford to want him. Not when he was everything she wasn’t.
He stepped onto the balcony behind her.
She didn’t turn.
“I kissed you because I meant it,” he said simply. “Not because I expect anything.”
“I know,” she said softly.
“I won’t touch you again unless you ask me to.”
Tricia turned to face him.
The wind caught her robe, fluttering the hem.
He stepped closer.
And for once, there was no anger in his eyes. Just something dangerous and fragile.
Like trust.
“Why do I feel like I’m standing at the edge of a cliff?” she whispered.
Christopher leaned in, brushed her cheek with the back of his hand.
“Because you are.”
- Writer
