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Ihave to be the one to do it. In a split second, my decision is made.

"Konstantin," I say sharply, catching his attention. "We need to leave. Now.”

He looks up from his plate, startled by my tone. "What?—"

I don't give him time to finish. As the waiter approaches, I knock over my wine glass deliberately, the white liquid spilling across the tablecloth and spattering the edge of my dress. I shove myself up from the table, twisting to put myself in the waiter’s path between him and Konstantin, and I see him speed up, his hand moving to slip inside his jacket.

Instinct, honed over years of training and endless missions where it was life or death—my life, their deaths—kick in. Before the waiter can pull his gun, I snatch a steak knife from the place setting, lunging forward. The waiter’s hand is half out of his jacket when I bury the blade in his thigh, angling it to hit his femoral artery.

He gasps, stumbling backward. Before he can recover, I'm on him, twisting his arm behind his back and forcing him to the ground. He goes down more easily than I expected—whoever sent him didn’t do their homework on me. He wasn’t expecting to be assaulted by Konstantin’s wife.

The gun clatters to the floor, and I kick it away.

"Security!" I shout, my knee in the man’s chest as I keep his arm pinned, my other arm at his throat. I’m well aware of how this must look—my skirt rucked up around my thighs, pinning this strange man down. Some part of me hopes that it stirs something in Konstantin that might make my job easier.

More likely, it’ll just raise more questions that I’m going to have to figure out how to answer.

"Someone call security!" All around us, the restaurant is erupting into chaos—a few guests screaming, chairs scraping against the floor as the diners get up and flee. I keep the man pinned down as I hear the sound of boots approaching, no doubt the resort’s security finally making an appearance.

When they’ve taken over for me, getting the man up and handcuffing him as they take him away, a paramedic also on the scene, I turn back to Konstantin.

The look of shock on his face is briefly gratifying, even though I know it’s going to come with more questions than I want to answer. He’s standing at the edge of his seat, staring first at the blood on the floor and then at the blood on my hand and skirt, his eyes narrowing as his expression turns calculating and intense.

My skin prickles with awareness, the knowledge that I’m being appraised. Fear trickles down my spine, but there’s something else, too. The way Konstantin is looking at me now, with those piercing blue eyes, sends heat blooming through me, just as it did the first time I flipped open that folio and saw his picture.

“Are you alright?” I ask quickly, reminding myself that I’m not Valentina, not here. I’m Sophia, and I should be worried about my husband. “I don’t know how?—”

“Am I alright?” he repeats the question incredulously, confusion blurring the intensity of his gaze. “I should be asking you that,Sophia.”

He stresses the emphasis on my name ever so slightly, and the hairs on the back of my neck rise. I need to be very, very careful about what I say from here on out. My cover is an inch from being blown, and Konstantin isn’t stupid.

“Who are you?” he asks quietly, his gaze holding mine.

It takes every bit of training and discipline that I have to keep my expression smooth and blank, as innocent as I can possibly look. “What kind of question is that?”

Konstantin’s expression darkens instantly. He grabs my elbow—not hard enough to hurt, but hard enough that I know he’s serious—and starts striding in the direction of our rooms.

I tug a little against his grip—I can’t help it—but he doesn’t so much as flinch. He holds onto my elbow, marching me alongside him until we reach his room. He flashes his keycard in front of the door, urging me inside as he follows, and closes the door firmly behind him, turning to face me.

“Don’t insult my intelligence,” he says coldly. “I’ve never seen a supposed mafia socialite take down an armed man like that. And you knew exactly where to stab him without killing him. I’m going to need an explanation.”

I press my lips together. “I told you the night I had the nightmares?—”

“Your guardian taught you self-defense.” He snorts. “That wasn’t a few sessions of Krav Maga or whatever lessons you were given. That was?—”

“This is ridiculous.” I shake my head, turning away. “I just saved your life, and you’re going to interrogate me?—”

Before I can flounce off, pretending to be the offended wife, Konstantin’s hand locks onto my elbow again, spinning me around to face him.

“Don’t walk away from me when I’m talking to you.” His voice is low and deadly, and my blood chills as I look at his expression.

At the same time, my pulse flutters in my throat. He’s still holding onto my elbow, very close to me now. I can smell the woodsy, salty scent of his cologne, the hint of musk and sweat on his skin. My pulse beats harder, my heart speeding up in my chest, and Konstantin pins me with his glare.

“I want answers, Sophia.”

“I saved you.” I let my eyes go soft and liquid, letting myself go limp in his grip, as if he’s hurting my feelings. “How can you be so cruel?” My voice wavers ever so slightly, and to my surprise, I see Konstantin’s expression soften just a little.

Good. I’m finally getting to him.