Page 26 of Konstantin (Marinov Bratva #1)

CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO

EMILIA

The night is silent. The kind of silence that feels heavy, pressing against the walls of my home.

I lie in bed, the soft hum of the fan the only sound. Sleep has been elusive lately, my mind a whirlwind of plans and fears. Tonight, however, exhaustion finally claims me, and I drift off.

But good things never last.

A sudden noise jolts me awake.

The hairs on the back of my neck prickle with unease as I try to listen for the sound again. It was low, a creak of some kind. Hell, it could be the floorboards. The house is pretty old. Still, my hand slides beneath the pillow, fingers wrapping tight around the grip of my gun.

The bedroom is swallowed in darkness. No moonlight. No streetlamps outside. Just a void closing in from all sides.

But as my eyesight adjusts, I swear I see something.

A shape in the far left corner of the room. Broad. Motionless.

My thumb clicks the bedside lamp on. The warm glow floods the space, and I nearly drop the gun.

Konstantin Marinov is seated in the leather armchair like he owns the place. Black dress pants, black loafers, the top few buttons of his shirt undone like he’s just stepped out of a boardroom. Except it’s midnight, according to the clock on my wall.

His eyes are calm. Patient. Hungry. But it’s the black leather gloves on his hands that send a fresh spike of fear through me. Because gloves mean no fingerprints. And if he’s here to kill me, he wouldn’t want to leave evidence behind.

I steady my voice, gun still in hand. “What the hell are you doing here?”

His mouth curves into that signature smirk, the one that makes my nipples pebble beneath my thin white tank top—and God help me, I make no move to hide it.

“I apologize for startling you, Ms. Monroe,” he drawls, words thick with dark amusement. “I only came to make sure you’re alright. The DeLucas—the ones behind the hotel incident—are still out there. And I’d hate to lose such a…valuable employee.”

“I’m alive. You can go now.”

Please get the fuck out of here because you make me suffocate.

“I think what you meant to say is, ‘Thank you, sir, for watching over me.’”

That’s definitely not what I meant.

He rises slowly, like a panther about to pounce. “And you’re welcome, by the way.”

Presumptuous asshole.

“As you can clearly see, I’m fine, so you can leave. Breaking into my home in the middle of the night isn’t just inappropriate. It’s insane.”

“Are we back to pretending the other night never happened?”

The closer he gets, the heavier the thud of his footfalls becomes, and the more I contemplate whether shooting him between his eyes right now would be all that bad.

“The other night was a mistake. A one-time mistake. That’s all.”

“Mm.” He settles beside me, removing one of his gloves with slow precision. “No, malen’kaya. That was just the beginning.”

Reaching out, his fingers brush a few strands of hair from my face. The gentleness is terrifying and alluring all at once. It’s what makes him so much more dangerous. Powerful.

How can he so easily be both monster and man in the span of a breath?

“Look, you need to go,” I whisper, but the words lack conviction, thin and useless against the tension crackling between us. “I need sleep. Okay?”

But he makes no attempts to move, fingers lingering on my skin, dragging heat through every nerve, making my stomach twist and my pulse thrum like a warning I’m too tired to fight. All I want is to close my eyes and give in, to stop resisting this dangerous pull between us.

But I can’t afford that. Not with him. Not when everything I am is built on keeping him out.

And the more he touches me, the harder it becomes to fight whatever this is.

“I’m sorry, but I’m afraid I can’t do that,” he says. “Your safety is not negotiable.”

“I can take care of myself. In case you forgot, I took care of you too.”

His stormy laughter rattles through the walls.

“I will admit, you can handle yourself with a weapon.” His hand slides to my jaw, and my breath stutters.

“But luck runs out. Next time, you could be outnumbered. And I won’t risk that.

” His fingers tighten just slightly, eyes searing into mine. “Not with you.”

Not with me?

The words resonate, sharp and disorienting .

Why?

His gaze dips to my mouth like he wants more of what he’s already tasted. My skin hums, alive with anticipation, every inch of me pulled taut with desire.

“Why do you even care what happens to me?” The question slips out, barely a breath.

A slow smirk curves his lips, equal parts threatening and devastating. “Now, that’s the million-dollar question.” His thumb glides across my lower lip, sending a tremor down my spine. “I don’t have an answer. All I know is you’re the only brand of poison I want bleeding through my veins.”

He leans in, so close I can taste his breath, mint-laced and maddening.

“And when I want something, I grip it with a tight fist until it’s either mine or dead.”

“You’re such a romantic,” I whisper, even as my body begs me to stop pretending I don’t want to be his.

A flicker of amusement flashes in his gaze. “That’s what they tell me. Now be a good girl for me and go get dressed.”

I jerk back, eyes turning to slits. “I’m sorry, what ?”

The trace of playfulness in his expression vanishes, replaced by something colder. Sharper. Deadly.

“I suppose I should clarify what’s about to happen.”

My spine straightens, every nerve sparking to life. “What are you talking about?”

“There’s only one way to guarantee your safety.”

“And that is?”

“You move in with me.”

I laugh, harsh and disbelieving. “Yeah, no. I’m fine right here. If you’re feeling protective, get me a bodyguard. Hell, post a sniper outside my window if it helps you sleep, but I’m not moving in with you. ”

The back of his hand glides down my cheek. “It seems you’re under the impression this is a negotiation.” His tone hardens. “At no point did I offer you a choice, Ms. Monroe. Now get dressed before I decide to do it for you.”

“You’re fucking insane!”

“Yes, and?” His eyes gleam with zero remorse. “Would you rather I not care? Leave you here to die? The DeLucas have a bounty on your head. Do you think I have no conscience?”

I scoff. “Do you really want me to answer that?”

On top of everything else I’m dealing with, I now have the DeLucas to worry about? Great…

Konstantin, of course, is too calm about it all. Like dragging me out of my bed in the middle of the night is perfectly rational. I guess for him, it is.

He exhales slowly, like I’m the one being unreasonable. “In case you’ve forgotten, my men were murdered while we slept. I won’t let you be next. You saved my life, Tessa. This is how I repay you.”

I clench my jaw. “I never asked you to, so consider us even. You don’t owe me anything.”

His smile widens, slow and dark, like I’m some unruly pet refusing to heel. The arrogance radiating off him could suffocate a room.

“Go put on some clothes,” he goes on. “We’re going home.”

I bristle. “I am home. You are trespassing.”

His features spiral with cold fury. “Get dressed. Now.”

I cross my arms, blood boiling, my chest tight with anger and something else I don’t want to name.

“No.” I refuse to waver. “Leave.”

For a heartbeat, silence stretches between us like a loaded gun. I can feel it—the moment the tension shifts.

What is he going to do? Grab me? Force me?

I hate him. I hate that a piece of me wants him to do it. Wants the control, the fire, the possession that only Konstantin knows how to deliver.

But that’s the problem, isn’t it? He’s not just dangerous to the people chasing me. He’s dangerous to me.

Because if I’m not careful, I might stop resisting. I might start letting him win.

He mutters something low and sharp in Russian, too fast for me to catch, before stalking straight to my dresser like this is his home, not mine.

My stomach knots.

Yanking open the top drawer, he pulls out a pair of black leggings and a cotton tank top.

I freeze. “How the hell did you know where those were?”

He doesn’t answer.

My blood turns cold.

Shit.

He’s been here before.

When? How many times? Was I asleep? Has he touched my things? Watched me?

He could’ve planted a bug. A camera.

A shiver rips down my spine, but I shove it down. I sweep for bugs every night. I scrub every inch of this place. I would’ve found something.

Wouldn’t I?

Still, I can’t be sure anymore. I have to be careful from now on. That is, if I ever come back to this place. God knows I’ll probably end up dead in his mansion. Probably fed to the pigs I’ll never get to meet.

When he tosses the clothes into my lap, waiting for me to strip, a bitter laugh escapes me.

“Turn the hell around, Marinov, and stay like that until I tell you otherwise.”

His gaze dips to my mouth and lingers. That arrogant smirk tugs at the corner of his lips as he towers over me, like temptation in human form.

“I like it when you’re bossy,” he murmurs.

A pulse of need tightens in my core, unwelcome and infuriating. God, I hate that he can do this to me. That my body reacts even while my mind screams danger.

I roll my eyes, and he finally turns around, giving me his back. But even facing away, he radiates control.

Still, this…this is good. It might look like I lost this round, like I gave in, but this is the opening I’ve been waiting for.

What if he didn’t do it?

The thought hits like a tsunami, slamming into me with no warning or mercy. My fingers freeze against the hem of my shirt.

What if you’re wrong?

No. That’s not possible.

Is it?

I squeeze my eyes shut, chasing away the doubt sinking its claws into my gut. I can’t afford to believe in that. I can’t afford to believe in him .

Not when Konstantin Marinov is the monster I’ve built this entire mission around.

But monsters aren’t supposed to kiss like he does. And they’re definitely not supposed to make you feel like maybe, just maybe, you’re not alone in the dark.

“You can look now.”