Page 37 of The Bratva's Innocent Forbidden Bride
He made a point to only speak about insignificant things, and I went along with it for the moment. He had obviously put some effort into this treat, and I had to admit I was relaxed, at least physically. He had me rolling with laughter at some story about his little niece, and we got into a silly tussle about whether she was a great-niece or a grand-niece.
“Either way, it makes me sound old, so I’m just calling her my niece,” he said, clearly waiting for me to tell him he wasn’t old at all.
Despite being twice my age, I’d never think of him as old again. “You’ve still got some stamina.”
“I’ll show you stamina,” he said, hoisting me in his arms.
I squealed, thinking we were heading back to the bedroom, but he carried me up to the rooftop pool where two massage tables were set up under the shade of the potted palm trees. Kon dropped his robe and strode proudly to one of the tables, then turned and asked if I’d rather swim a little bit first.
How could I answer when I was staring at all those muscles, especially now that I knew exactly what that body was capable of making me feel.
“Uh, well, you’re supposed to wait a while after eating to swim,” I said.
The massage therapists silently worked out the kinks while we lay face down, side by side. Once Kon reached out his hand to touch mine, which had fallen off the table in my ecstasy. All I could do was moan.
“Not too bad for being stuck at home, is it?” he asked.
“Your smug tone is tensing my shoulders up,” I murmured, making him laugh. “But, no, this isn’t too bad.”
“Just wait,” he said.
How was he going to top this? I’d been to plenty of lavishly catered meals, but none especially for me. Only for me. I was so stuffed, all I could do was laze in the pool after the massage was finished and the therapists rolled their tables away. Suddenly, I wasn’t so self-conscious about being buck naked around Kon.
Maybe it was because I was slowly but surely getting addicted to the way his eyes glimmered as they traveled over my bare skin, or the way he casually stroked my arm as he swam past me. But mostly it was because if I put on a swimsuit, he might put one on, too. Then I’d lose that glorious view.
I only got out of the pool when my fingers and toes were shriveled like pale raisins and flopped into one of the lounge chairs, sprawled out under the sun as if I’d never worn clothes in my life.
“What happened to my little prude?” he asked, splashing me when he shook the water out of his hair.
“You know exactly what happened to her,” I said. “But, oh, doesn’t that sun feel good?”
“Would you want to stay in LA?” he asked.
I turned to look at him and frowned at the serious note in his voice after we’d been teasing each other all morning. Whether or not I stayed in LA depended on too many things to just blurt out an answer, no matter how much I loved the never-ending sunshine.
“Would you?” I asked instead of having to search my thoughts too deeply.
“It sometimes feels like the family I have here has been neglected,” he started, pausing when I sniffed.
“They’ve done fine for themselves.”
“Yes, but we’re all so close in Moscow, and I only see this lot once or twice a year. It might be time for a change.”
“Well, I’d miss my job,” I said. “And I don’t know what…” I trailed off, not wanting to bring up what Papa would want me to do. I absolutely couldn’t think of Papa while I was lazing around naked with Kon, the man who was hunting him.
“Don’t,” Kon said, reaching for my hand. “Don’t beat yourself up.”
“How did you know?” I asked.
He laughed bitterly and didn’t answer. Was his own conscience acting up? That would mean he had one. The sun was too warm, and he kept his hand firmly clasped with mine as he asked me about the textile trade. Did I really want to be a weaver? Or was I more interested in the business side?
“You know my niece Mila is passionate about fashion and fabrics. And my great-niece? Grand-niece? Nat has an art gallery where she displays her works sometimes.”
Why was he telling me this? “What if I did want to be just a weaver?” I asked. “Does everyone have to claw their way to the top of an industry to be considered a success? What if I’m happy at my loom?”
“Then that would be enough,” he said without hesitation. “As long as you weren’t lying to yourself.”
Hmm, that was too much food for thought, and I closed my eyes, drifting off to sleep in the waning afternoon with Kon’s hand in mine. Too many thoughts or emotions might topple the cozy feeling that enveloped me, and I was worn out from barely any sleep the night before and swimming for an hour.
