Page 22 of Twisted Fate

VALENTINA

T his mission was never going to be simple, but it was at least supposed to be fucking straightforward.

Marry Konstantin Abramov. Kill him. Get the information Kane promised me. Move on with my fucking life.

Instead, nothing about this mission has been straightforward. The marriage part happened smoothly enough, but nothing since then has been according to plan, starting with my husband’s self-enforced vow of celibacy until he decides he wants to knock me up.

Then, even my attempt to get him alone—with only a guide to worry about—went off the rails, thanks to that busted radiator and a curious lion.

We eventually got back to the resort without further issue.

The lion didn’t appear again, and another Jeep showed up to take us back, with effusive apologies from our concierge that manifested in comped room service for the night and a bottle of champagne—which I took back to my room without bothering to consult Konstantin.

The room service came in handy, since he didn’t speak to me for the rest of the night, other than to tell me that he was tired and that I’d be on my own for dinner.

And truthfully, for once, I was fine with it.

I wasn’t going to kill him that night, and I wanted to be alone with my thoughts and my frustration.

Room service was spiced game bird and wild rice, and I picked at it as I sat out on the patio by the pool, waiting to see if Konstantin would appear.

He didn’t, not even when I took an evening swim, wearing the same skimpy black bikini, just on the off chance that his brush with mortality today would make him feel differently about missing out on the chance to fuck his new wife.

It didn’t. I swam alone, with nothing but the sounds of the grasslands at night to keep me company, and then went to bed early, utterly exhausted.

Now, I reach up to adjust one of the straps of my black, floral-print cocktail dress as I survey the resort’s open-air pavilion and look for Konstantin to come back with our drinks.

I’ve barely seen him today—I don’t know what he got up to after our shared breakfast, but it very clearly involved avoiding me.

I ended up going to the spa after a while, just for something to do.

He did agree to come to the resort-wide cocktail party with me tonight, possibly just to head off another argument. He definitely didn’t seem excited about it.

I don’t need him to be excited about the resort, I think grimly as I look around, trying to keep a pleasant smile on my face.

I need him to be excited about me. I’ve never had so much trouble holding a man’s interest—or seducing him, for that matter.

It should have been easy to fuck Konstantin into a stupor, get him to drop his guard enough to let me go in for the kill, but instead he’s proving both intractable and highly resistant to my charms. It’s both frustrating and insulting, and it almost makes me want to kill him more.

I shift in my high heels, tapping my nails against the cream linen tablecloth of the high-top next to me.

The pavilion is lit by soft, glowing lanterns that send a golden haze over the small gathering of wealthy guests, and the quiet music blends with the murmur of conversation, occasionally punctuated by laughter.

It’s not so much different from the dozens of other events I’ve been to—very much like it, other than the view.

We’re surrounded by the grasslands on all sides, the orange glow of the sunset having given way to the vast, star-studded night sky.

I’m not here to enjoy the view, but I can’t help but be affected by it. I’ve never seen anything so beautiful, and I’ve been to plenty of places in the world. I love Miami, but the night sky here is something else. The view of the stars alone makes it stand out.

The hairs on the back of my neck prickle, and I turn to see Konstantin approaching, blond and handsome in his tan linen suit.

He must have done something outside today—his skin has the ruddy glow that comes from being out in the sun.

As he walks toward me, a drink in each hand, I can see eyes turning his way.

Even here, among so many wealthy and powerful people who have no idea who he is, he commands attention.

Just by walking into a room, his presence alone makes everyone want to look at him.

I’m not immune to it, either. I feel a warm stirring in my belly as I watch my husband walk toward me, his suit tight in all the right places, tailored perfectly to him but still tugging slightly at his biceps and powerful thighs.

My lips press together briefly as I shove off that other frustration—the one that comes from having expected to get to take this man to bed, and having been repeatedly rejected.

It almost seems like a shame to have to kill something so gorgeous. Like shooting that lion out on the safari today.

Except that lion was minding its own business, and Konstantin isn’t. At least, not enough to have not made enemies like Kane—enemies who want him dead rather than see their territory shifted and their way of life changed.

In that respect, Kane is the lion, I suppose.

I watch Konstantin approach, unable to not appraise him in the way that I’m used to appraising a target.

I can tell from the lines of his clothing that he doesn’t have a weapon on him, in deference to the strict rules of the resort.

I’m still unsure as to whether or not he might have one in his room; I haven’t gotten to spend enough time there to have a chance to check.

I’m not armed either, which makes me uncomfortable, as I’m sure it does him.

The means that I have at my disposal for killing him are limited, unless I get him in bed.

I might have to resort to poison, I muse, as I watch him.

It’s not my preferred method, but it might be the only one I can reliably use.

Anywhere other than the privacy of our bedroom is impossible for a gun or a knife.

Unless I somehow get him much, much more alone than even that would allow.

I have five days. The clock is ticking, and I can hear it louder with every hour that passes, with Konstantin both breathing and not under my spell.

“Gin and tonic for you, two limes.” He sets down the copper mug near my hand, and I catch the scent of spiced rum and ginger from his glass. A lemon wedge, glistening with juice, hangs suspended on the side.

“You remembered.” I smile sweetly at him as I reach for the drink, enjoying the crisp, cool taste of it. The heat of the day has burned off by now, leaving a slight chill in the desert evening, but the dryness still lingers.

It’s hard not to want to snipe at him. He makes it too easy. But I need to endear him to me. I need to be the adoring bride, however difficult he makes it.

His gaze drifts over me, just once, taking in my dress.

It’s raw silk, clinging in all the right places, the straps so thin they could be snapped with a finger, the asymmetrical hem showing off most of one tanned leg.

A man would have to be dead not to notice how good I look in this, and I can see from the way Konstantin’s eyes darken, ever so slightly, that he’s still very much alive.

“That dress suits you.” His gaze returns to mine, carefully neutral, and I let my false smile settle on my lips.

“High praise coming from you, husband. ” I let the smallest bite tinge my words, just because he’ll expect it, and it makes me feel a little better.

“I should compliment my wife every now and then.” He takes a sip of his drink, glancing around the gathering. “How long do we have to be here?”

“We don’t have to be here at all.” I let that tinge of annoyance grow. He makes it so damn easy to be pissed at him. And any wife with half a brain would be pissed at his nonchalance, his eagerness to get away. But it isn’t doing me any favors.

I know how to seduce a man. I don’t know how to get to one who has walls like Konstantin’s—ones that aren’t just solid and high, but laced with barbed wire at the top.

“We’re here. We should enjoy the resort, right?” I take another sip of my drink. “We’re on our honeymoon. Since you don’t want to spend it in bed, I see no reason to spend all of it hiding away in our rooms.”

“Or at the spa.” Konstantin raises an eyebrow. “I saw the charge to the room.”

I smile at that. “Begrudging me spending your money, husband?”

“Not at all.” He shrugs. “I have plenty of it to spare.”

So do I. With every day that I spend around him, I find myself wishing more and more that I could tell him who I really am, if only to see the look on his face when he realizes that the woman he’s been treating so callously could match him in wealth and deadliness.

Maybe he’ll have a few last breaths before he dies, just so I can fill him in.

“Do you want to dance?” I gesture at the wooden dance floor, where a few couples are swaying to the bland music of the quartet.

It’s nothing to write home about, but if I were here with someone I truly cared about, dancing with the view of the Serengeti around us and the gorgeous night sky above would be enough to make me want to.

It’s the kind of thing a wife desperate to connect with her husband on their honeymoon would want too, I remind myself.

Konstantin shrugs, tossing back the remainder of his drink. “Sure. Why not?”

I bite back the reply that immediately comes to my lips and smile instead, giving him a look that I hope communicates just how happy his acquiescence has made me. I slip my arm into his, and I feel him tense, ever so slightly, as we walk to the dance floor.

He’s not immune to my charms. Far from it. He’s just controlled. Disciplined. I remind myself of that as we find an open space among the other couples, my heels clicking on the wooden floor as Konstantin’s hand slides to my lower back.