Page 9 of The Bratva's Innocent Forbidden Bride
It was a failure, but I could regroup. Use this new situation to my advantage somehow. Couldn’t I?
I had no choice. I was stuck with Konstantin, literally stuck with him. One thing I was fairly certain of was that he wouldn’t harm me, at least not the Kon I knew. The Kon I thought I knew, anyway. If he was involved with my father’s disappearance, then I didn’t know anything.
The very man I was obsessing over flung open the door, filling the space with his huge body. I nearly fell back onto the bed, but stayed swaying on my feet, holding my arms across my chest to keep the red blouse from flopping open. He did a quick perusal of me, his face set in stone, but somehow still causing me to feel hot everywhere his eyes landed.
“If you want dinner, it’s on the table,” he said, turning and leaving.
Also, leaving the door open. Not much of an invitation, but I realized immediately that I was hungry. Starving after the insane day I just lived through. And that was something to be positive about, still being alive. It would also be a good idea toscope out the rest of the apartment for escape routes or anything I could use as a weapon, so I hurried after him out of the bedroom.
I had barely noticed anything on my ignominious way in, but I gaped all around me now. I was no stranger to wealth, but my father wasn’t one for anything opulent or fancy, and we lived simply in our giant mansion. This place was the dictionary definition of opulent and fancy, sleek and modern, but also packed with artwork and furniture that might as well have been sculptures. and rounded out with a stunning view of the city skyline outside the wall of windows.
I found myself moving toward the lights winking on all over the inky night sky and placed my hand on the sliding door leading out to the balcony. We were dizzyingly high above the ground, so there was no way out. Still a breathtaking view, though.
As I glanced all around, Kon snickered from where he leaned against the bar leading into the kitchen. “Don’t bother,” he said. “There’s a guard in the entryway outside the front door, another at the elevator in the parking garage, and a team patrolling the perimeter.” He pointed to the hallway leading to the front door. “Camera there and one outside on the balcony.”
“Is that all?” I asked sarcastically, trying to hide my disappointment. “Well, it’s a beautiful prison you have set up here.”
“It could just as easily be a not-so-beautiful one,” he said, voice ripe with meaning I understood all too well.
Not the Kon I thought I knew.
“Come on,” he said, his tone lightening. “I didn’t make these dumplings, so you can be assured they’re delicious.”
He must have had a Russian cook, because the dumplings both looked and smelled scrumptious. I was so nervous about trying to get into Riku’s lair that I skipped lunch and hadn’t eaten anything since early that morning. I sat down and waited for him to nod at me before digging in, causing him to chuckle at my enthusiasm.
“I wondered if you still liked that,” he said, pouring me a glass of wine.
As if I’d drink alcohol around him. “Still my favorite. Wait, how did you…?”
“Sofiya always made sure her friends had the foods they liked.”
I nodded. “She was always sweet like that. Good memory though,” I said, wondering if he wanted to be buttered up.
“I always remember things that can be useful one day.”
I lowered my voice to mimic him. “Might need to kidnap that one someday, better take note that she likes lamb dumplings.”
His roar of laughter caught me off guard. It was so infectious, I joined in, somewhat awkwardly. And oh, goodness, was his smile something else. I wasn’t used to being the center of attention, least of all by someone larger than life like Kon. When he stopped laughing, I asked what his sons were up to, and we had something that resembled a civil conversation. Maybe even a pleasant one.
Was I a prisoner or not? All that talk about guards and cameras, but now this nice meal and friendly chitchat.
“So what have you been up to?” he asked as he got up to grab a pint of ice cream out of the freezer for dessert.
Was he seriously asking me that? I stared at him, and he rolled his eyes. “Besides getting yourself into mortal danger, I mean.” He shook his head as he scooped out some caramel swirl into two bowls. “I still can’t believe you were wearing that and trying to—” he cut himself off, as if the subject ruined his appetite.
He slammed the bowl down in front of me but left his portion on the counter, and his eyes were dark again, steely gray. Leaning back in his chair, he crossed his arms, as if waiting for me to say something to defend myself.
Like he was waiting for me to thank him.
“You honestly think you did me a favor by abducting me off the roadside, don’t you?” I asked, a fresh burst of anger blotting out any desire to keep things friendly.
“If you mean the rescue I pulled off when the head of the Yakuza was within seconds of grabbing you himself? Then, yes.”
He really meant it. Every word. He was so assured that he was right and I was wrong, and I never wanted to punch anyone more in my life.
“Despite what your father did,” he added when I remained silent.
I jumped up so fast my chair toppled over. “Do you really believe Papa screwed you over?” I demanded, kicking the chair for good measure since I didn’t dare kick Kon. Some of my fire was doused when his dark eyes didn’t even flicker. He was stone cold, staring at me.
