Page 32 of Konstantin (Marinov Bratva #1)

CHAPTER TWENTY-SEVEN

EMILIA

The soft hum of the television fills the den as I sit on the couch, eyes glued to the screen while Konstantin is in a meeting.

But my mind is elsewhere. Like on the party we’re supposed to host in two days, and that nagging feeling that I’m nowhere near finding anything to help Nate.

I tried to snoop around the house earlier, but Konstantin’s men are everywhere and it felt like an impossible task. At this point, I won’t find shit for Riley to hack.

Anxiety tightens through my muscles, each breath growing harder to take.

I can’t fail. I won’t let Nate rot inside, but with every passing day, that’s exactly what I’m doing. Failing. The weight of it presses down on me, a crushing force in my chest.

I take long breaths, hoping the chaos will quiet before I spiral into panic. Instead, I think of last night. Falling asleep in Konstantin’s arms, somehow feeling at peace. Funny how the mind can make you feel safe even when you’re in the arms of your enemy.

A set of footsteps echoes, and I sit up straighter and run a hand down my face, wondering if it’s Konstantin.

Before I can wonder long, he steps in with a man covered in tattoos on every visible part of his skin, his face framed by the metal ring in his nose.

Who is he, and what is he doing here?

Konstantin says something to him in Russian as they both look over at me, and it gives me this eerie feeling I can’t put my finger on.

A maid enters, carrying a chair before placing it in the middle of the room.

“Come, Tessa. Sit.” Konstantin pats the leather upholstery.

Another spike of unease rolls through me. “Why? What’s going on?”

“Sit, Tessa.” His features harden, and I know arguing won’t help.

Reluctantly, I stand and sink into the chair, hoping this isn’t where I get executed. The man with the tattoos steps forward, his eyes scanning me briefly.

“This is Boris,” Konstantin explains. “He is here to give you a tattoo.”

My heart skips, my eyes widening. “A what ?”

Konstantin doesn’t even flinch at my shock.

“A tattoo,” he repeats, as though it’s no big deal.

“A small, black circle with a red club in the center, right here…” His fingertips glide up the back of my neck as he peers at me with that cold, unflinching stare.

“It’s for your protection. This way, my enemies will know you are mine as soon as you show them that mark. ”

I swear this man does everything with the guise of protection. If it wasn’t so annoying, it might actually be romantic.

“No.” The word bursts out of me. “I don’t want it. ”

The last thing I need is to have a piece of him etched on my skin forever. Or until I can pay to get it removed, which I really shouldn’t have to do.

But Konstantin doesn’t give me a choice. He steps closer, his fingers brushing my hair from the back of my neck.

“It’s necessary.” His voice softens, almost gentle, but the finality in it is unmistakable. “Trust me.”

“I don’t trust you at all.”

He laughs, a cold, grated sound. “It doesn’t matter, malyshka.” His hard knuckles draw down the side of my face, making my skin crawl with both desire and apprehension. “I get what I want.”

I don’t have time to argue further as the artist moves behind me, preparing his tools.

Konstantin’s fingers intertwine with mine, his grip firm as the needle starts its work, piercing my skin. The sting is sharp, but the pressure of Konstantin’s hand in mine is strangely comforting.

It’s funny, really. Or maybe not that funny. But the feeling of the needle going in, sharp and relentless, the small punctures to my skin, reminds me of something familiar.

Every time I used to cut, that moment of pain, that second when the blade would sink into my skin, was a relief. And this? It feels similar. That same burning sensation, but this time I’m not in control, and I hate it.

Every time the needle hits, I want to scream, but I don’t. Instead, I stare at Konstantin, my eyes filled with anger and something else too. Something I hate to admit.

“It’s almost done,” Konstantin says. “I’m sorry if this is causing you any pain.”

How sweet is that? He’s sorry when he’s the one forcing me to do this.

Time drags on as the artist works, the ink settling on my skin, marking me to the man I swore I’d hate. But now that hatred has somehow morphed into more of a strong dislike.

They do say marriage takes work, right?

When the man finishes, Konstantin’s gaze shifts to the tattoo, his expression tightening briefly before he leans in, his breath warm against my ear. “It’s perfect.”

The artist shows it to me through a mirror, and thankfully, it’s small. The man covers it up and steps back while Konstantin takes my hand, helping me to my feet. My skin is tender, but I can handle the discomfort.

Once we’re alone, Konstantin’s eyes rake over me, the ferocity of his stare lingering as it glides over my skin. “If you’re feeling up to it, I’d like to take you shopping.”

I frown. “Shopping for what?”

“The party. It’s time to get you a wardrobe worthy of my wife.”

A sigh escapes me. “That’s not necessary. Keep your money. I’m happy with my own clothes.”

He gives a slight chuckle. “That’s thoughtful of you to worry about my finances, but I assure you, I have plenty to spare.” A smirk tugs at the corner of his lips. “And you, katyonak, need to look the part. Otherwise, people will start talking.”

I roll my eyes, but it doesn’t stop him from leading me out of the house and toward the back of the SUV.

One of his men sits at the wheel, another in the passenger seat.

The engine whirrs to life as we pull away from the estate, his powerful hand cupping my knee, and I find an odd comfort every time he touches me.

When we finally arrive, it’s at a place that feels like it was made for people like Konstantin. Expensive, high-end, every corner of it designed to scream wealth and power.

“Mr. Marinov, I’m so happy to see you,” the woman at the front desk practically purrs, her eyes lighting up when she spots him.

Her greeting is laced with too much enthusiasm, and my irritation spikes immediately. The thought of grabbing the nearest stiletto and stabbing it through her eye is strangely tempting right now.

But Konstantin doesn’t even spare her a glance. His features remain tight, authoritative, as he strides past her without breaking his pace.

“Do you have everything I asked for?”

“Of course, sir! We have all the pieces for your…uh, wife…in the back.” Her eyes flick briefly toward me before quickly returning to him, sending him a gaze drenched in lust.

The woman’s stupidity is almost unbearable. Does she have a death wish?

Tension builds in my chest, but Konstantin’s fingers tightening around my hand draw my focus back to him.

“She’s nothing,” he says, loud enough for her to hear, the words cutting through the air like a blade.

The woman goes pale, her face reddening.

“I-I swear I wasn’t—” she stammers, but he cuts her off before she can dig herself deeper.

“You don’t speak unless you’re spoken to.”

Her eyes pop wide at the lethal tone of his voice, and a small smile tugs at my lips.

The woman clears her throat and steps back, visibly shaken, her hands clasped in front of her white blazer.

Konstantin’s arm slides around my back, tugging me close. His front presses against mine, the heat of his body making me warm all over.

“I must say…” His voice drops low and gravelly, his mouth grazing my lips. “I’m relieved to find you so jealous, Mrs. Marinova. I was starting to think this marriage wasn’t going to work.”

I throw my arms over his shoulders, a grin tilting. “Tell my husband not to be so full of himself. I wasn’t all that jealous.”

He laughs, a low, satisfied sound that sends a jolt through me. Before I can respond, his lips are on mine, gentle, yet urgent. A soft kiss that sparks something deeper.

A groan slips from him as he shifts back, his eyes darkening. “Come with me.”

Before I can react, he grips my arm, pulling me toward the back of the store and yanking me into an empty changing room.

My chest rises rapidly as he watches me, his gaze turning predatory, the air crackling between us with something unspoken.

Then, without warning, his lips crash to mine, urgent and possessive.

I’m barely able to catch my breath, our mouths colliding with such force that it’s like we’re fighting for dominance.

He groans into the kiss, his fingers threading through my hair, gripping the back of my head with an intensity that makes my pulse hammer.

This kiss…it’s wild, almost violent, like we’re both on the edge of something we can’t control.

Every second he pulls me deeper into his spell, my body responds, aching, desperate for him. His hands are everywhere, ripping at my clothes, each touch pushing me closer to the brink.

My fingers work quickly to undo his belt, dragging his pants down with urgency until his cock springs free. And in one swift motion, he lifts me in the air, my back flat against the wall, the heat between us burning hotter with every second.

With a growl, he grips a handful of my hair, his eyes on mine as he thrusts into me with punishing force.

“Oh God, yes,” I gasp, my voice breaking on the edge of a moan.

I try to stay quiet, try to be good, but he drives into me harder until silence is no longer an option.

“Louder, Tessa,” he roars against my ear. “Let her hear you. Let the whole damn world know I’m yours and you’re mine.”

His fingers slip between my thighs, stroking my clit with merciless precision. Pleasure builds like fire licking up my spine, twisting until I’m on the edge of something I can’t contain.

Each thrust sends me spiraling faster, deeper, until I’m clawing at the wall for balance.

My orgasm tears through me like a storm, wild and consuming. “Yes! Konstantin, oh God!”

“I’m the only God you’re ever going to need.”