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A tapestry I’m determined to unravel, however long it takes me.

19

VALENTINA

I’M SO FUCKED.

It’s all I can think about the next morning, as I sit at the kitchen island with my coffee in hand, after Konstantin has left for the day.

He made me sleep without showering last night, wanting me to wake up still full of him from what we did out on the beach. I woke several hours later to the feeling of him inside of me, kneeling behind me with one of my legs hooked over his powerful thigh as he thrust into me, his fingers circling my clit until the pleasure woke me.

I came almost immediately. I’ve never been so turned on by a man handling me like this, fucking me when he wants, taking me like I’m his. Before this, I’d have hated any man who touched me like that, despised him, and looked forward to the moment when I’d kill him while enduring his touches long enough to finish the job.

But with Konstantin—I crave more. I crave his touch, his kisses, his filthy words, the feeling of him inside of me. Every time we’re together, I feel like heseesme in a way that no one else ever has, not even Kane.

Which is ridiculous, because he doesn’t even know who I am. He doesn’t know my real name, or my real past, or anything about me. Everything I’ve ever told him is a complete fiction, all a made-up persona for someone who doesn’t exist.

Everything except when we’re in bed together.That’sreal. I can’t lie to myself and say that it isn’t.

And that's the problem.

I stare out at the endless blue of the ocean through the floor-to-ceiling windows, my hazelnut latte growing cold between my hands. The Miami sun glints off the water, almost painfully bright, but I can't look away. It's easier to focus on that than the mess I've made of this mission.

Kane hasn’t called me yet. I’ve started to feel a cramping dread in my stomach every morning when I look at my phone, waiting to see a message from him or a missed call, the one that will undoubtedly tell me that the hit is back on. I should call him—the information Konstantin unwittingly gave me about the meeting is exactly the kind of thing Kane wants to know. But something is holding me back.

Not something,I tell myself grimly as I take another sip of my cooling coffee. I know exactly what it is. I’ve become addicted to the pleasure Konstantin gives me. To the look in his eyes when he sees me. I want another hit of that desire, that need, that all-consuming feeling of bliss. But like any drug, if I let it overtake me, it’ll ruin my life.

I can’t let all these years of work go to waste, lose this one chance, because Konstantin makes me come like no man ever has before.

Not even because, despite my best efforts, I’m starting to feel something for him.

I felt it last night, especially out on the beach. It was the clearest look I’ve gotten at who he really is—and it’s not the kind of man I want to kill. He is, I think, the closest thing that therecould be to a good man in this world, a man who wants to do as little harm as he can, for all that he lives in a world built on violence and blood. A man who, even if he can’t wash his hands of it, would like to minimize the damage.

I’m sure he’s done things that warrant the contract out on him. I could justify it to myself that way, if need be. But that’s not why there’s a bullet marked for him. Kane wants him dead because of his ideas. Because of the very thing that makes me respect him.

And as far as why I feel something for him that I can’t allow myself to put a name to? I can’t think about that. I can’t think about how I feel closer to him than I ever have to anyone else in my life, and what that means for what I’m going to have to do to him.

My phone buzzes, and I jump, afraid that it’s Kane, that he somehow heard my thoughts and is calling me to tell me to go ahead with the kill. A wave of relief strong enough to unsettle me washes over me when I look down and see that it’s Konstantin texting me instead.

Konstantin:Lunch today? The Terraza at 1. I'll send a car.

My heart does a stupid little flip in my chest. I hate how much I want to see him, even though he just left a few hours ago. I hate how I'm already thinking about what to wear, what will make his eyes darken with that possessive hunger I've come to crave.

Sophia:Yes. See you then.

I set the phone down and take the remainder of my coffee to the sink, swallowing the last of it before rinsing out the mug. I need to shower—finally—and get ready. I need to remember who I am and why I'm here.

I’m not really Sophia Moretti. I’m Valentina Kane, a trained assassin, and Konstantin is not a man I can fall in love with.

He’s the man I’ve been sent to kill.

—

By noon,I’ve showered and blow-dried my hair until it falls in perfect, curling waves around my shoulders, applied light makeup, and thrown on a white linen dress that looks flattering and appropriate at the same time, along with straw lace-up espadrille sandals. I get a text letting me know that the car is outside, and I grab the spare keycard that Konstantin left for me, heading down to meet the driver.

I’ve never been to the Terraza before, but the restaurant is exactly what I'd expect from a place Konstantin would choose—elegant without being stuffy, with a stunning view of the water. The hostess leads me to a table on the terrace where Konstantin is already waiting, rising as I approach. He looks as breathtakingly handsome as always, dressed in a suit with his jacket taken off and the sleeves of his light-blue shirt rolled up to his elbows, displaying his muscled, tattooed forearms. He’s unbuttoned the top two buttons of his shirt as well as a concession to the heat, and I see the glint of the gold chain at his throat in the sunlight.

His eyes sweep over me, taking in the dress I chose, the way it clings to my curves before flaring out at the hips. I see the approval in his gaze, the barely restrained desire, and something else—something that looks dangerously like affection.