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"As promised." Kane's voice softens slightly, taking on that tone that he uses when he’s trying—and often failing—to be fatherly. "You've been patient, Valentina. You've earned your freedom. Do this job, and you’re done."

I take in a slow breath, nodding. “Alright. I’ll have it done soon.”

“By tomorrow night, Valentina. Don’t let me down.”

I force an easy tone into my voice. “I never have.”

“Good girl.” The approval in his voice turns my stomach once again. "Call me when it's done. I’ll have you extracted and send cleaners to set up the scene the way we want it."

There’s no further conversation, no goodbye. The line goes dead, and I drop the phone onto the couch beside me. I stare out at the ocean, at the endless blue horizon that has always seemed so beautiful to me.

Now it just looks empty.

I wrap my arms around myself, trying to hold back the tears that threaten to fall, burning the backs of my eyes. I've never cried over a job before. I've never hesitated, never questioned. I've always followed Kane's orders without a second thought.

But this suddenly feels unimaginable.

I don’t know how long I stand there, wrestling with a choice that I’ve already made. I have no way out. I can’t call Kane and back out now. His trust would vanish in an instant. He’d send me all the way back to the bottom, make me spend years climbing that ladder again, reaching for his good graces. I mightnever get the name, never get my revenge. I’d probably die on some too-dangerous job long before I got the chance again.

And I can’t tell Konstantin the truth. Even if I wanted to come clean, put myself on Kane’s hit list, and take my chances, Konstantin would kill me. The desire, the caring, thelovethat I see in his eyes would fade, and he would hate me.

He’d hurt me for what I’ve done. Torture answers out of me. Kill me, when I refused to give anything up. And maybe it would hurt him to do it—but he would, because I’ve lied to him. Because the woman he fell in love with isn’t real.

But how I feel is. And there have been moments…

I close my eyes tightly. It doesn’t matter. There was only ever one outcome to this, and it’s the one that needs to happen in the next twenty-four hours. One way or another.

When the afternoon light fades into evening, I force myself upstairs to change into a flowy yellow sundress that ends at my knees, ready for dinner with Konstantin. He told me that he’d be bringing home dinner, and I want to look as beautiful for him as I did last night, to draw him in, to keep him tangled in my web.

And also… just because I want to see that look in his eyes, at least one more time.

20

VALENTINA

Ijump when I hear thebeepof Konstantin’s keycard on the door. I have the mood set for the evening—drinks poured, more candles lit on the dining table, a record playing with soft Spanish guitar filling the room. I’ve been thinking for the last hour about how I’m going to do it, and all I’ve been able to come up with is the deep desire to put it off until tomorrow night, until the deadline.

To fall asleep with him one more time, wake up with him again in the morning. My chest aches, and I breathe in deeply as I see the door start to open, forcing myself to look and act as if nothing is wrong. To put a smile on my lips and a soft look in my eyes, to go to him the way I would any other night.

Konstantin has a takeout bag in one arm, the most normal thing I’ve ever seen him do, I think. I press my lips together to force back a giggle—the sight of a Bratva heir with a paper takeout bag isn’t something I’d really ever expected to see. I never thought of any powerful man I ever targeted as anything but a name on a piece of paper—as someone who had a preference for noodles or rice with their Chinese food, a favoritedrink, a preferred restaurant. Seeing Konstantin like this is startlingly domestic.

“I brought home something from that new Asian fusion place,” he says, hefting the bag before pausing as he looks at me, and around the room. “I really could get used to this,” he says after a moment, his gaze sweeping over me as he takes it all in. “Candles, music, my beautiful wife waiting for me—” He walks toward me, tossing his keycard on the counter as he goes, before reaching out to tip my chin up with one hand as he bends down to kiss me.

I close my eyes, savoring the feeling of his lips on mine. The warmth, the fullness, how firm they feel against my mouth, slotting against my lips so that the bottom tucks between his, perfectly placed for him to tug it into his mouth if he wants. I can feel him on the verge of doing just that, of deepening the kiss, but then he breaks away from me, that hungry light in his eyes as he walks past me to set the food on the table.

“Can you get silverware?” he asks, glancing back. “I’ve never been the biggest fan of chopsticks, but I grabbed a set in case you want them.”

“Of course.” I don’t know how my voice sounds so calm. My throat feels tight, my heart hammering behind my ribs as I walk to get two sets of silverware out of the kitchen drawer. My hand closes around the steak knives, and I bring one of each of those as well, my pulse fluttering in my throat as I look down at the glinting blade.

I’m not going to do it right now. I’m not. This is a messy, difficult way to kill him, and it could come with all kinds of complications. A bullet is quicker. Poison would be even better—quiet, simple… but I can’t bear the thought of Konstantin choking to death, his throat closing, fighting for his last breaths and staring at me as he dies slowly, knowing it was me.

Sometimes, I like poison for exactly that reason. But I can’t do that to him.

A bullet is the best option. Or, if a knife, then while he’s asleep. I set the silverware down with a clatter, and I realize my hands are trembling.

Konstantin glances at me. “Are you alright?”

I nod quickly. “I’m fine. Just?—”