Page 20 of Twisted Fate

A few hours later, Sophia joins me on the patio for breakfast, served by our private butler.

I’ve already had three cups of coffee—more than I normally consume—and I’m almost unnaturally awake.

I hear Sophia’s footsteps as she approaches, and look up to see her wearing a pair of loose, tan linen pants, gold and leather sandals, and a sleeveless dark green button-down top, her hair in a loose braid.

A few pieces are flying around her face in the light breeze that’s wafting past us, and my fingers itch with the desire to reach out and push them behind her ear.

“I have a plan for us today,” she says without preamble, as she sinks down across from me.

The butler brought out her breakfast already—a plate of sausage, eggs, and fruit, with a side of orange juice and coffee.

There’s a basket of muffins between us, and Sophia reaches for one, tearing off a piece as she looks out over the view beyond the patio.

“Oh?” I raise an eyebrow. “When did you have time for that?”

“After you went inside last night.” She looks back at me, pinning me with her sharp green gaze.

“You don’t want to be intimate with me—fine, Konstantin.

But this is still our honeymoon, and I want to spend time with my husband.

” She draws in a breath and lets it out again.

“I want to go on a safari excursion. Actually, we are going on a safari excursion. I booked it last night. Just us and a guide.”

Both of my eyebrows shoot up at that. “A safari?”

“We’re in the Serengeti,” she says tartly. “It seemed like the most appropriate way to spend our time.”

It’s on the tip of my tongue to refuse. Why, I don’t know, other than that she’s telling me what to do—and I don’t like it.

But there’s no real reason for me to tell her no—and I think I see, under her sharp gaze and prickly tongue, a sincere desire to connect with me.

To spend time together, as husband and wife.

I’ve already denied her the intimacy that I’m sure she expected. I can at least do this.

“Alright,” I agree, and I see the flash of surprise on her face before she quickly stifles it. “What time do we head out?”

“Just before lunch. They’ll send a packed lunch with us.

It’s a whole afternoon thing.” She goes on to describe the trip, and I have to admit, it sounds like an interesting way to spend an afternoon.

She’s right about one thing—whether or not I would have chosen to come on this trip, we’re here. I might as well enjoy it.

We meet the safari vehicle at a side road out of the resort, just before noon. It’s a rugged Jeep modified for off-road excursions, open on the sides to provide unobstructed views of the wildlife. The driver and guide, a local man named Omari, greets us with a warm smile.

I help Sophia into the Jeep, my hand lingering on her waist a moment longer than necessary.

I swear I can feel the heat of her skin sinking into mine, even through the fabric, that sugary, floral scent of her perfume filling my senses, made somehow more intoxicating by the heat.

She glances back at me, the tiniest smirk at the corner of her lips, and I quickly withdraw my touch.

She’s fucking impossible to resist.

I slide in next to her, acutely aware of how close she is. My thigh brushes briefly against hers, and even through two layers of fabric, I feel a jolt from the contact.

What the fuck is wrong with me? Is two years of celibacy enough to make me this feral?

I thought I was past that. I’m hardly old, at thirty-eight, but I’m certainly not rabid over women any longer, the way I was in my youth.

I have control, discipline. I haven’t fucked a woman in two years not because I don’t need or want sex, but because I’ve had more important things on my mind.

So, how is it that Sophia seems to have completely undone that in a matter of days?

I grit my teeth, gripping the side rail of the Jeep as it lurches into gear, heading out toward the grasslands of the park.

The motion jolts me closer to Sophia, my thigh brushing against hers.

The contact sends a jolt of awareness through me, despite the barrier of our clothing, desire crawling down my spine.

I feel her tense, too, and I see her hand flex around the guardrail on her side of the Jeep as she turns abruptly to look away from me.

I can feel the desire shimmering between us in the dry, hot air—thick as syrup, tense as a wire waiting to snap.

It’s on both sides—only she doesn’t seem to be fighting it.

She wants me to give in, and I can’t quite figure out if it’s because she truly wants me, or because she has some ulterior motive—because she wants to control me through my desire, the way my father controls me through my position in the family.

I’m not about to take the chance to find out.

As we set off, leaving the resort behind and heading out into the vast expanse of the Serengeti, Omari points out various landmarks and explains the route we'll be taking. “We’ll head to the watering hole,” he explains, as the Jeep bounces over the rough terrain.

I see Sophia push a piece of hair away from her face that’s stuck to her cheek, damp from the heat.

“This time of morning, many of the animals gather there.

With luck, we might see elephants, zebras, even lions. "

Sophia leans forward, and I can see her expression genuinely brighten. “I’ve always wanted to see elephants out in their natural habitat. Not just at a zoo.”

“Then today might be your lucky day, Mrs. Abramov,” Omari says with a bright grin. “A large family group frequents this watering hole. You might even see some babies.”

Sophia lets out a small gasp, and I bite back a smile.

She seems softer like this, more natural, and I have to fight to keep from letting myself be drawn in by it.

There’s a part of me that, from time to time, has longed for a partner.

A woman that I would choose for myself, who I could laugh with, talk with, share a life with.

Love . And every now and then, like at our first meeting, I see a glimpse of Sophia that makes me wish we’d met under different circumstances—that makes me wish I could have chosen her, so that maybe she could have been that for me.

“Look, over there!” Omari calls out as we near the watering hole, interrupting my brooding. “Elephants, just as I promised.”

Sophia and I crane to look at the same moment—my shoulder bumping into hers as the Jeep slows. My arm grazes her breast, soft and warm under the fabric of her dark green shirt, and I grit my teeth as I feel my cock swell instantly. She would feel so fucking good against me .

I blink, refocusing on the vista in front of us.

It’s truly magnificent. A herd of fifteen or so elephants stands around the watering hole, from the colossal adults to tiny babies that cling close to the sides of the elephants that must be their mothers.

Despite their size, they move surprisingly gracefully, dipping their trunks into the water and then raising them to their mouths.

“They’re beautiful,” Sophia breathes, her face alight with wonder as she leans in for a better view.

I can’t help but agree with her, though I don’t say anything.

She looks as if she’s lit up from the inside as she takes it all in—her eyes glowing, her hands braced on her knees as she leans forward.

She looks captivated by the sight, truly happy for the first time, and an odd ache pangs in my chest.

What would it look like if she were always this happy?

I’ve never made anyone happy in my life. I’ve made people bleed and scream and cry, disappointed my father often, and, on occasion, made him proud. I’ve hurt and killed and maneuvered, planned and plotted, but not once in my life can I remember ever truly making anyone happy.

I’m honestly not sure that I’d know how.

Omari hands us each a pair of binoculars, in case we want to get a better look, as he stops the Jeep completely at a respectful distance.

There’s more than just elephants at the watering hole—a pair of giraffes and two zebras with a foal—and I hear Sophia’s sounds of wonder as she scans the landscape with her binoculars before setting them down again.

It’s beautiful—all of it. I feel that sharp ache again as I imagine sharing it with someone that I chose to bring here—someone who wasn’t part of this marriage of convenience that I’ve been coerced into.

“This is incredible,” she murmurs, as we watch the pair of zebras herd their foal away from the watering hole, trotting off into the distance. “Thank you for agreeing to come here, Konstantin.” She glances over at me. “It’s really amazing to get to see this.”

Before the words are even fully out of her mouth, I’m already searching them for some insincerity, some ulterior meaning.

She sounds genuine, but I can’t bring myself to believe that this woman might really be grateful that I gave in to the honeymoon—especially given the friction between us over our sleeping arrangements.

I can’t get past the idea that she’s still trying to lure me in, to get my guard down.

When I don’t respond, she looks away from me, her mouth tightening ever so slightly before she turns her attention to Omari.

They start up a conversation about the elephants as he puts the Jeep in gear, continuing past the watering hole and on to the rest of the safari.

Omari points out a group of giraffes coming from the west, and Sophia leans forward, asking questions as we drive.

I watch her—her animated expression, the smile on her face, and I have to remind myself that this woman is on my father’s side, not mine.

That letting her in—letting myself give in to the feelings she’s stirring in me—would be no different than shooting myself in the foot.