Page 13 of Twisted Fate

Disbelief washes over me. In an instant, I can see my carefully laid plans fraying at the seams, on the verge of falling apart. Panic starts to build in my chest, all of my own reservations forgotten in the need to get this night back on track. "Separate... I don't understand. We're married."

"On paper, yes." He takes a sip of his drink, watching me over the rim of his glass. "But as I was trying to tell you earlier, this marriage is a business arrangement, Sophia. Nothing more."

Anger flares in my chest—not because I want him, but because this complicates everything.

I hadn’t planned to kill him tonight, but it was meant to be the start—the first night that would bring him into my bed again and again, until his guard would be lowered enough on our honeymoon that I would be able to strike.

This was supposed to be the easy part. I wasn’t supposed to have to convince my husband to share my bed.

He’ll change his mind on the honeymoon, I tell myself. But my pulse is fluttering in my throat for a different reason now.

"What about children?" I demand, grasping for the argument a real wife would make. "Your father will expect an heir."

Konstantin nods, taking another sip of his drink. "And when the time is right for that, we'll... address it. But not tonight."

I stare at him, genuinely bewildered. Most men in his position would be eager to bed a new, beautiful wife.

Especially one they seem attracted to, as he clearly is to me.

I saw it in his eyes the first night we met, felt it in the way he moved when he was close to me.

He was cold to me tonight, but I assumed that was because he resented being forced to marry me.

I’d assumed that this—the wedding night—was the only part of the entire ordeal he would be enthusiastic about.

A consolation for having to marry me—that at least he’d get to fuck me.

"Is there... someone else?" I ask, a new possibility occurring to me. He might have a mistress, a woman he actually loves. But if he did, surely Kane would have uncovered it. That’s not the sort of thing that could slip past him.

He laughs, the sound short and humorless. "No. No one else.”

"Then why—" I can’t wrap my head around it, and I can see my path ahead rapidly becoming more complicated. The last thing I need is for this mission to become more difficult.

Konstantin’s jaw tightens, and he takes another sip of his drink.

"Because, Sophia," he interrupts, his voice hardening, "I don't mix business with pleasure.

And make no mistake, this marriage is business.

My father chose you for reasons of his own—money, perhaps, or some connection your guardian has, or a desire to control me through his choice of a bride.

Whatever his reasons, they serve his interests, not mine. "

He sets his glass down and crosses to where I stand, still stunned by this turn of events.

He's close enough that I can feel the heat of his body, smell the hint of rum on his breath. My body reacts to his closeness, warmth spreading through me. I feel, against all odds, a flicker of disappointment that he’s turning me down.

It’s been a while since I’ve been with someone—and never someone who looks like Konstantin does.

I was looking forward, I suppose, to a little pleasure of my own.

"So we'll play the parts assigned to us," he continues, his voice lower now.

"In public, we'll be a happily married couple.

The future of the Abramov Bratva. But in private.

.." He steps back, putting distance between us.

"In private, we'll remain at a distance. Until such time as I decide that I’m ready to produce an heir. "

"I see," I manage, my voice cool. "And you're telling me this now, after the wedding, when it's too late for me to object?"

His eyes narrow slightly. "Would you have objected? If I had told you this was the arrangement?"

I hesitate, thrown by the direct question.

"I... don't know." Of course not. But I would have had time to make a different plan. I thought he was a man like any other man, easily led around by his dick. I thought that all I needed was to make him so addicted to the pleasure I could give him that he’d let all his defenses down.

Konstantin throws back the last of his rum. “I think you do," he says flatly. "I think you would have gone along with whatever was asked of you. Because that's what women like you do, isn't it, Sophia? What you've always done."

My gaze meets his, as hard and flinty as I’ve ever seen Kane’s. In this moment, I’m not Konstantin Abramov’s wife, I’m Nicholas Kane’s adopted daughter. And I want to tell Konstantin exactly what kind of woman I am.

But I bite my tongue.

"You don't know me," I snap instead, allowing my frustration to come out in a way that will make sense to him. That won’t be suspicious.

“No, I don’t,” he agrees. “I don’t need to.

All I need is for you to play your part—the dutiful mafia wife in public.

I don’t care what you do in private, as long as you’re faithful.

You’ll give me an heir when the time comes, and you’ll play the mother to whatever degree you wish.

I’ll give you all the comforts you desire, and we’ll both be satisfied. ”

I notice he doesn’t say happy . Satisfied was the word he chose.

“I could satisfy you tonight.” I raise an eyebrow, and Konstantin chuckles coldly.

“I’m sure I’ll enjoy myself greatly when I decide to come to your bed, Sophia. But it will be when I decide.”

In that moment, I’m fully aware of what all this is about.

It isn’t the separation of business and pleasure—or at least, not entirely.

It’s more about him exercising control where he can, grasping for power in this situation.

He’s been told to marry me, and he couldn’t avoid it, not without angering his father and weakening—or maybe losing—his position.

But he can control when he takes me to bed.

“Isn’t someone going to want to see bloody sheets in the morning?” I challenge. “Isn’t that some mob tradition?”

Konstantin chuckles. “My father suggested it, but that’s one tradition I refuse to participate in. Why, Sophia?” His eyes narrow, searching my face in a way that makes a shiver run down my spine. “Are you telling me you’re a virgin?”

My heart patters unsteadily in my chest. “You could find out.”

He chuckles. “You’re not going to convince me, Sophia. Now, I’m tired. I’d like to retire for the evening.” His tone is firm, brooking no argument. I’m being dismissed, and I don’t fucking like it.

Not one bit.

"Fine," I say, lifting my chin. "If that's how you want this to be, I suppose there’s no changing your mind. But don't expect me to be happy about it."

He raises an eyebrow. "I wouldn't dream of it."

He gestures to the adjoining door. "Your room, Sophia. I'll have someone check on you in the morning, see if you need anything before we leave for our honeymoon."

The honeymoon. Relief washes over me that he’s not altering that plan, too.

I’m reminded of where we’ll be off to in the morning—a week at a luxury resort in the Serengeti, just the two of us.

I can’t imagine he’ll have gotten us separate bedrooms there.

I’ll have plenty of opportunities to seduce him there, where he’ll be less guarded and more vulnerable to my charms.

“Thank you,” I say stiffly, heading toward the door. I glance back once to see him watching me stonily, his expression giving away nothing—not if he regrets letting me leave, or if he’ll spend tonight with his hand wrapped around his cock, thinking about how it could be buried inside of me instead.

“Don’t mention it.” Konstantin pauses. “Good night, Sophia.”

I take a deep breath, refocusing. This isn’t the end, it’s only the beginning. A hiccup, yes, but not one that I can’t overcome. It’s only the first night, and I’m adaptable.

A good assassin has to be.

I smile at him, my hand on the doorknob. “Good night, Konstantin.”