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This should bother me.The thought comes from somewhere in the back of my mind, but it’s nothing more than a whisper, something that feels like it’s coming from outside of myself. This is nothing new to me. It’s just that usually, I’m doing it all by myself.

Konstantin takes the silk tie from my robe, and wraps it around the pieces of Elia’s fingers like a present, tying it with abow on top. He makes sure her hands and feet are still secure before picking up a lighter that he brought back in with him as well. He uses it to cauterize her bleeding finger—quickly—before the smoke can set off any alarm.

Then he stands up and walks briskly out of the room, leaving me there with her.

I double-check to make sure she won’t be going anywhere, even though I’m sure Konstantin’s work was good. When I feel satisfied as well, I walk out of the bathroom, closing the door behind me.

Konstantin is no longer in my room.

I go and press my ear against the door dividing our rooms. I can hear the sound of his voice, faintly, and can pick out a few words here and there.Genovese. Assassin. Slakov. Send a message.

He’s talking to someone on the phone. I strain to try to hear more, jumping back quickly and retreating as I hear Konstantin moving toward the door.

He steps through a moment later, wearing nothing but a pair of black sweatpants hanging low on his hips. My mouth goes dry when I look at him—he’s fucked me three times since last night, and I already want him again.

Fuck, I want to get down on my knees and feel his cock in my mouth again.

“Is she still passed out?” Konstantin asks curtly, and I nod.

“I think she’ll be out for a while.” I pause, biting my lip. “What are we doing with her?”

Something odd flickers in his gaze when I saywe. “I’ll send her back with two of the security that my father is sending. They’ll take her back and ensure that Genovese and Slakov get the message.”

“Which is?” I can’t help but ask, even though I’m fairly certain I know the answer.

The smile that curves his mouth is cold and cruel. “That the Abramovs are not to be fucked with. And that mywifeis not to be put in danger.”

A strange warmth blooms through me at his words, settling in my chest.My wife is not to be put in danger.He wants me protected, even if he didn’t want to marry me. That warmth stays there, softening something in me, even though I know that if he knew who I really was, I’d probably be right next to Elia.

Guilt flickers through me, mingling with that warmth. The thought that maybe Konstantin doesn’t deserve to die pricks at the back of my mind.

But it’s not about what hedeserves. It’s about what Kane wants. What I need. The job that I’ve taken and the reward that I’ll get for it in the end.

“Come with me,” he says finally. “We’ll stay in my room. I’ll check on her periodically to make sure that she’s still secure until my security gets here. Once they’ve returned her to Miami, the private jet will come back and get us.” A hint of wariness enters his gaze at that, as if he expects me to argue.

“Konstantin—”

“We can’t continue to stay here,” he says flatly. “You heard her. There could be more assassins. We’ll wait until the morning after tomorrow, when the jet returns. Then we leave.”

It’s not that much less than our actual honeymoon would have been. We only had three days left. But all the same, I feel the pressure of the need to finish my mission bearing down on me.

He wants me in his room. In his bed.His walls are down, and now all I have to do is maneuver myself close enough to finish things. His guard will be heightened now, but I can work with that. He wants me badly enough that I can do what I always planned, now—fuck him into a stupor and then make my move.

“Come on,” Konstantin says, his hand touching the small of my back. I can feel the heat of his hand through the silk of my robe. “Let’s go to my room and get cleaned up. I’ll bring your things in afterward.”

I know what that means—he doesn’t plan for me to need clothes for a while, yet.

That warmth in my chest blooms into something hot and hungry, an ache of desire sweeping through my body. The moment he closes the door behind us, I let my robe drop to the floor, and I see the answering heat in Konstantin’s eyes as his gaze sweeps over my bare form.

I drop to my knees, my fingers hooking in the waistband of his sweatpants as I tug them down his hips. He’s already halfway to hard when I pull them down to his thighs, and he groans as I wrap my hand around his stiffening length, bringing the tip to my lips.

I tell myself that I’m doing this to seduce him. That I want him trusting and pliable and tired, wrung out from pleasure, his senses dulled. That I’m playing the part of the temptress, making him think I’ll do anything he wants, pleasure him any way he wants, in order to get and keep his guard down.

But the uncomfortable truth that lingers in the back of my mind is one that I can’t ignore completely.

I want to be doing this.

I wanthim.