Page 60 of Bratva Bidder

My skin sparks everywhere he touches.

I try to ignore it.

And fail miserably.

I shift the gun slightly in my hands, letting the barrel wobble off-target on purpose.

“I don’t know if I’m doing this right,” I murmur, letting my voice tilt just enough to sound unsure.

Konstantin’s hands return to my waist. “Then let me help you,” he says, almost too easily. But I hear the undertone. The interest. The edge of suspicion that creeps into his voice like a thread he wants to tug.

He steps in closer. “Keep your feet apart,” he murmurs, nudging my ankle with his boot. “Balance. Straighten your spine.”

I feel every point of contact between us like a current through my bloodstream.

“You’re tense,” he adds near my ear, his breath skimming across my cheek. “Relax. You’re not about to assassinate anyone.”

I give him a small, tight smile.If only you knew.

“I’m trying,” I say, lowering my lashes.

“Let me.” His hand slides over mine again, adjusting the angle. His palm rests on my hip for a moment longer than necessary. He smells like gunpowder and something more expensive. Musk, danger, steel.

“You’ve really never held a gun before?” he asks, voice low.

I glance back at him over my shoulder. “Should I have?”

A flicker of amusement flashes in his eyes. “No. But you don’t exactly behave like a girl who grew up protected.”

“Maybe I didn’t.”

His gaze lingers. On my mouth. On my jaw. Then he steps back, giving me space to fire again.

I let the shot stray just off-center.

He lifts a brow. “You’re a fast learner.”

I shrug. “I’m motivated.”

His smirk deepens. “Remind me never to underestimate you.”

You already have, I think, but I say nothing.

Instead, I hand the gun back to him and take a step away, pretending I’m unaffected. As if my pulse isn’t thundering in my ears, as if my body doesn’t remember every place he touched.

“Thanks for the lesson,” I say over my shoulder.

But when I glance back, he’s still staring at me—like he’s trying to figure out which part of me is real.

14

KONSTANTIN

She’s good.Too good.

She walks away with a sway in her hips like she’s unaffected, like the heat between us hasn’t settled into every breath we take—but I saw the way her fingers tightened around the grip. I saw how steady her hands were.

She missed that shot on purpose.