Page 17 of Konstantin (Marinov Bratva #1)

CHAPTER FOURTEEN

EMILIA

The jet is sleek and black, waiting on the tarmac like a predator in a suit. Looks like it has something in common with its owner.

Konstantin’s hand grazes mine as he silently takes my suitcase, the brush of skin sending a current through me. I climb the steps with his presence right behind me, heat prickling down my spine. There’s a sound—low, primal—and I can’t tell if it’s him or the jet growling to life beneath us.

Once I step into the cabin, I’m surrounded by pure luxury.

A bright-eyed blonde in a tailored uniform greets us at the top of the steps with a practiced smile. “Welcome, Mr. Marinov. Ms. Monroe. May I get you two anything to drink?”

Before I can answer, Konstantin’s voice slides in, smooth and razor-sharp. “I’ll take care of her.”

He presses up behind me, his hand resting lightly, yet possessively against my hip like he’s staking a claim. A rush of heat radiates through my chest, furious and unwanted.

I’m not his. I never will be. But my body hasn’t gotten the memo.

Not when his palm lingers a second too long. Not when his lips are so close to my ear, I feel the brush of his breath.

“Take a seat,” he demands.

And suddenly, I’m not sure if the tightness in my chest is nerves…or anticipation of what’s to come.

The scars on my arms throb, like they want to remind me that he knows my secrets, the ones I never talk about. I hate that he does, that he forced me to give him something I wasn’t ready to, but it doesn’t change anything between us.

I slide into one of the white leather seats, crossing my legs and meeting his gaze with the kind of calm I don’t quite feel. It’s a challenge. A performance. Like I belong here. Like his world was always meant to be mine.

His mouth lifts slightly, and there’s something in his eyes that sharpens. Something that says he sees more than I want him to.

Then I stupidly wonder again if anyone’s ever loved him. Truly loved him. Would someone miss him if he disappeared? Cry for him? Ache for him like he was worth mourning?

Would anyone miss me ?

Sure, Nate would. Gerardo and Fiona too. Maybe even Riley. But that’s not what I mean. I want someone to miss me like their world’s been ripped apart. I want to be remembered so deeply it ruins them.

I’ll never have that, will I?

I drag in a long breath. Is this what happens when someone’s starved for affection? They start craving it from the most dangerous people?

But falling in love, having a family of my own, is absolutely not in the cards for me. I’m far too messed up for that. With the kind of mother I had for a role model, I’d be a disaster .

A bitter laugh scrapes the back of my throat. Guess therapy’s been working better than I thought. At least I can recognize how fucked up I am.

“What’s so amusing?” His voice slices through my thoughts, dragging me out of the spiral.

He stands at the minibar, pouring himself a drink. His eyes lift, catching mine across the cabin. The moment our gazes collide, it’s like he’s commanding me in place without even touching me.

“Nothing.” I push my hair away from my face and sit straighter.

His smile curves, slow and knowing, like he can read the lie right through me. “You drink coffee?”

Only when I’m being seduced by a Bratva kingpin.

“Not usually. But I’ll have one. Splash of cream, one sugar.”

He lets out a low chuckle, rich and smooth, the sound curling through me like a thick vine.

As he pours from one of the silver pitchers, the scent hits me first: rich, bitter, and far too inviting.

With both drinks in hand, he turns and settles beside me, closer than necessary, and offers me my cup.

Our fingers brush, barely a graze, but it sparks something low and hot inside me, undoing the control I’ve been clutching to like a lifeline. His eyes latch on to mine, and I swear he can feel the shift inside me.

I bring the cup to my lips, desperate for a distraction. The warmth of the coffee grounds me, the bitter strength of it anchoring me just enough to pretend I’m unaffected.

But it still tastes like him. Dangerous. Addictive. Impossible to ignore.

He continues to watch, like he’s trying to memorize the way I react to every little thing.

The seatbelt sign dings softly overhead, and within minutes, the jet lifts into the sky with barely a tremor. I force a slow breath through my nose, keeping my posture composed while lowering my mug .

Nothing bad is going to happen. It’s just a trip. He’s not taking me somewhere to kill me.

Well, at least I hope not…

But to be on the safe side, I sent messages to both Riley and Gerardo before I left. If anything happens, they’ll know where to look.

“Relax, Ms. Monroe.” His palm, warm and heavy, settles on my thigh like it belongs there. “Are you nervous?” Thick fingers cinch around my flesh. “If so, I have a few ways I can help.”

“I’m sure you do.” I sound composed, but my body is a traitor, a pulsing need unfurling from the weight of his touch.

I glance down at his hand, broad and possessive, and silently thank myself for not wearing a dress. Or maybe curse myself. It’s hard to tell the difference right now.

He shifts slightly, angling toward me with an ease that feels more like a stalk than a gesture. “It’s a short flight. We’ll be in Chicago soon. You’ll sit in on the meeting, take notes. And after that…” His eyes glint. “The evening is ours.”

I should ask what that means. What his version of “ours” includes. But the words catch in my throat when his gaze drops to my mouth, remaining there like he’s already tasted it.

Then slowly, his thumb sweeps across my lower lip.

Awareness ignites within me. The move is both intimate and greedy. Like he’s claiming space he hasn’t earned, but fully intends to take.

“Just enjoy yourself,” he murmurs. “Don’t fight it so hard. It’s not good for you.”

“And you know what’s good for me?” I try to come off indifferent, but his fingers grip my thigh tighter, and suddenly the silence between us thickens, humming with something unspoken.

“Of course I do. I know everything.”

I should pull back. Say something sharp and deflect. But I don’t move. I stay perfectly still, every nerve lit up as his mouth hovers over mine, close enough that one breath would erase the space between us.

The plane suddenly jolts, a sharp burst of turbulence throwing me off-balance, and I surge forward.

His arms are around me in an instant—steady, firm, anchoring me like he’s done it a hundred times before.

But it’s not the strength of his grip that undoes me. It’s the way he’s looking at me. Like I’m his.

“You alright, katyonak?” The affection in his tone hits me hard as he tucks a loose strand of hair behind my ear.

Kitten. That damn word again. I looked it up the last time he said it. I told myself I hated it…but something about the way he says it makes my chest hit with a twinge.

“I’m fine.” I shift slightly, putting space between us as I reach for my coffee, but it does nothing to douse the wildfire burning under my skin.

I shouldn’t want him. It’s a betrayal to everything I took an oath to stand against.

But the truth is, I can’t deny the way he makes me feel.

And the scariest part? I’m starting to think I don’t want to.

KONSTANTIN

The elevator opens directly into the penthouse suite of the hotel, perched on the top floor with unobstructed skyline views. The space exudes sophistication: dark marble floors, black velvet accents, and gold-trimmed furniture.

But none of it compares to the woman stepping in beside me. Strong. Mysterious. Inescapably alluring. And apparently, she’s exactly what I’m looking for. Or so my heart tells me.

Life is a funny thing. One second, I was fine being alone. Then she appeared, and suddenly, I could see it: waking up beside her, fighting for something more than vengeance and blood.

But love in my world? It’s no different than death. It costs you. Destroys you.

And if I claimed her, t ruly claimed her, things wouldn’t get easier. They’d get worse.

Still, I’ve never been one to flinch from fire.

And Tessa Monroe? She’s the most dangerous flame I’ve ever touched.

Her heels click against the floor as she walks in, her eyes taking in the space with a mix of awe and apprehension.

She doesn’t trust me. She’s smart not to.

But that doesn’t stop her eyes from drifting to me when she thinks I’m not looking. And I witness the battle within her. Like she’s despising herself for wanting something she knows is wrong.

But I see it. I see everything. That flicker of hunger she tries to bury beneath all that stubborn resolve.

She wants me. Maybe not with her mind, but her body knows what’s good for her.

That’s the unfortunate thing about attraction. It’s primal. Uncontrollable. It doesn’t ask for permission. And no matter how hard you fight it, once it takes hold, it drags you under.

My attention zeroes in on her, those tailored dress pants clinging to her curves like they were stitched with my hands in mind, just begging to be stripped off. But now isn’t the time to imagine all the ways I’ll have her on her knees. That will have to wait.

“Where’s my bedroom?”

I gesture toward the narrow corridor with a flick of my wrist, while my men roll in our luggage. “Let me show you.”

She follows close behind, but the second I open the door, she brushes past me like she can’t wait to get rid of me. I laugh to myself at the absurdity of it .

“Thanks. You can go now.” She pops an irritated brow.

I step in further, my finger trailing up the bare skin of her arm. “I would…” My lips twist. “But that’s going to be difficult…since this is my bedroom too.”

She stops cold, her eyes popping wide. “I’m sorry, what?”

I move in closer, our bodies aligned like puzzle pieces meant to break, my fingers curling around her nape with just enough pressure to remind her who’s in control. Her lips part, pupils flaring in response.