Page 93 of Married to My Sis’s Bratva Fiancé

Kiryan actually knelt in front of me.

My breath stopped.

Staff in the distance snapped their eyes away.

"You are out of your mind."

"Probably."

His gaze leveled with mine. I didn't have to look up anymore. He couldn't trap me in shadow with his size and experience.

"Get up."

"You told me to kneel."

"I wanted you to admit you can't."

"Then you misjudged me again."

My heart slammed into my ribs.

"This doesn't erase the past. It doesn't make me trust you again."

"I know."

"Then why the hell do you still do it?"

"Because you asked," he said, voice rough. "Because I should have learned a long time ago—love isn't making you bow to me."

That line hit the softest part of me.

I turned my face away. "Get up."

He rose.

"Let me do something for you," he said, his voice gentler.

The server finally brought the food. Kiryan didn't push. He swapped out anything too heavy. He remembered I hated olives, drank water without ice, and folded a napkin over and over when I was tense.

Those details used to make me happy. Now they scared me. He chose the moment I decided to stop loving him to prove he had never stopped.

With fifteen minutes left, a photographer came over with an assistant. "We still need a commemorative photo for the foundation report."

"Cancel it," Kiryan and I said at the same time.

The photographer blinked.

Kiryan looked at me. "If you don't want it, we won't do it."

"The penalty clause included photos," the assistant murmured.

I closed my eyes. "Fine. Take it."

They guided us to the floor-to-ceiling windows. Exit sat beside the night skyline like a wound.

"Stand a little closer, please."

Kiryan didn't move. He waited on me.