24. Natasha
24
NATASHA
M y heart feels as though it’s intent on leaving my chest to exit the room with Killian, and I watch in stunned silence as his broad shoulders clear the doorframe and he disappears into the hall.
What is wrong with me?
I can’t tell if what’s between us is real or if he’s just toying with me. It feels dangerously close to being real. And if it is, I’m even less sure that it would be a good thing.
Pushing shakily off the wall, I quickly pull myself back together and follow him.
My family is waiting on the other side of the door, slack-jawed, all three sets of eyes following the Irish mafia boss as he and his guard stalk arrogantly toward the entry. And when the elevator doors slide closed behind them, the silence that follows is agonizing.
Slowly, Tatiana and my father turn to look at me, bafflement written plainly across their faces.
“What the hell was that?” my father asks. “Why is he still alive?”
One of Tatiana’s perfectly shaped eyebrows arches as she silently asks the same question, and my mother’s soft gaze sweeps over me with keen interest. Heat pools in my cheeks, and I scramble for a reason that won’t completely expose my inner turmoil.
“I couldn’t kill him without destroying my cover—I mean, half the building saw him arrive, and he had his guard with him, right? Powerful as we are, I don’t know that we would get away with taking out the Irish mafia boss unscathed. So I thought it best to continue playing the soft-spoken young lady he expects me to be.”
My father’s face darkens. “Does that mean you entertained his idea of getting married?” he presses. After all, if I weren’t going to murder Killian—if I were just another young, innocent Bratva princess—the match really would make sense. To protect my family if nothing else.
It’s an offer any number of other mafia families would consider seriously. And if I had a father who followed tradition more closely, Killian’s proposal might not be considered outlandish at all. But I’m not just some weak young damsel who expects her fate to be dictated by her father. And for that, I’m grateful.
“Hardly,” I scoff, though I can no longer deny that my attraction to Killian is getting out of hand. “I told him in the most polite, ladylike way I could manage that he could drop dead.”
My father chuckles, the storm cloud evaporating from his expression as he seems to fully accept my explanation. “Good girl. And tonight, you’ll help him achieve that goal, right? No more failures, Natasha. I don’t know why he left so abruptly tonight or chose not to speak with Tatiana. But I’m tired of his antics.”
“Yes, Papa,” I agree, glancing toward my sister.
And dizzying embarrassment washes through me as she points subtly toward her lip, indicating that my lipstick is smeared. I run my finger quickly around the edge of my lip, then wish my family a quick good night before turning on my heel and making a beeline for the stairs.
Heart hammering, I race to my vanity mirror as soon as I reach my room. And though the signs are subtle, I can see how disheveled Killian’s kiss left me. Strands of hair have fallen from my braid. The color of my lipstick has crept down my chin just the slightest bit. I wonder how much of it I transferred to Killian’s lips without noticing, and mortification blossoms in my stomach at the possibility that Tatiana observed that as well.
Collapsing onto my vanity chair, I bury my face in my hands. What am I going to do? I’ve lost control of the situation. And not just that. My feelings for Killian are completely nonsensical.
Sometimes, I feel such burning anger toward him, I could easily follow through on my orders to kill him. But if I really break it down and assess what’s driving those feelings, it’s not loyalty to my family. It’s not my desire to protect them.
It’s plain old ugly jealousy—jealousy that his intentions might be focused on the wealth and power he could gain for blackmailing me—not because he actually wants me. Jealousy that Killian could seek my sister’s hand in marriage since he’s already gotten what he wants from me. But then, he’s shown no interest in her at all. And even after sleeping with me, he continues to come back for more.
That might prove the most dangerous part of all. Because the relief that comes from witnessing his preference for me is entirely unacceptable. I shouldn’t want him to want me. I shouldn’t care when he tells me that, someday, I’ll be his.
And yet, just replaying the dark promise in my memory sends a shiver of anticipation up my spine.
I’m broken, damaged, a liability to my family if I can no longer serve my purpose.
All because I’ve caught feelings for the worst kind of man.
Killian King is trouble, and I’ve walked right into his snare.
“You alright?”
I nearly jump out of my skin at my sister’s assessing tone, and when I turn, dropping my hands from my face, I find her leaning against my door jamb, her arms crossed as she braces with her shoulder.
She pushes off from where she’s been watching me and casts a glance over one shoulder before stepping inside and closing the door behind her. “You want to tell me what’s really going on?” she suggests.
“It’s nothing,” I assure her, though my voice is falsely high, giving me away instantly.
“Natasha,” she says skeptically.
I should know better than to lie to my sister. She understands me better than anybody, and I suspect she’s worked out a lot more than she’s let on.
“What?” I ask innocently, still clinging to my false innocence in the hope that she’ll drop it.
But she’s doing that big sister thing—the one where she plops onto the foot of my bed as if to silently say that she’s willing to wait as long as it takes to get the truth out of me.
Sighing heavily, I let my shoulders slump in resignation. She’s not going to buy what I’m selling.
“What’s going on between you and Killian?” she presses when I don’t start talking right away.
“I…” I bite my lip and meet her eyes apologetically. “I might be developing feelings for him,” I breathe. My cheeks heat until I’m sure I must be the color of a beet. But an immense wave of relief washes over me to finally admit it. Out loud. To someone other than myself—or the man who’s so single-mindedly determined to make me face the truth.
“Well, don’t,” she says bluntly. “I know it might feel good to be attracted to somebody—and sure, he’s handsome and witty. But those emotions will only cause trouble for our family. Killian might be charming, but he’s a smug bastard who’s just trying to manipulate us. Why do you think he asked to speak with you instead of me?”
My instincts tell me that it’s because he sincerely prefers me over my sister. That his attraction to me isn’t out of convenience. But I hesitate to voice that. Not just because I don’t want to admit how far I’ve let things go with Killian. I also trust my sister. I know she sees things more objectively that I can sometimes. And she’s a true strategist. She was born to see the bigger picture and all the moving pieces.
“He did it to throw us off our game,” she continues when I don’t say anything right away. “To hopefully cause division between us by making me feel inferior or to elevate your sense of self-worth. Not that either of us give a damn about who gets married first or any of that nonsense, right?”
She smiles conspiratorially, and I give a soft laugh. She’s not wrong. I’ve never even given marriage a second thought until a certain brazen Irishman came barging into our lives.
“Of course, we would assume Killian would go for me simply because, traditionally speaking, a man who marries the eldest daughter inherits the lion’s share of her father’s empire. That’s the main reason most men would propose to me. But Killian’s smart—I’ll give him that. He recognized the opportunity in subverting expectations. He sees you as a vulnerability because you wouldn’t anticipate a proposal. You’re younger, so you haven’t had to fend off nearly as many. And therefore, you would be an easier target if he could get you alone in a room.”
I can think of a few other reasons why Tatiana’s received the lion’s share of proposals. But all the same, her logic is painfully sound. And what’s worse—it was dangerously close to being effective. Killian truly knows what he’s doing when it comes to manipulating me.
He’s not just coercing me into sleeping with him. He’s convinced me that I want it. And that he wants me . He’s sorely mistaken if he thinks he can make an easy target of me. But then, hasn’t he already? Because the emotional turmoil raging inside if me is more than just about feeling used. It’s the fact that, somewhere along the way, I started falling for him. And I did it without even noticing.
I can’t let those unexpected, unwanted feelings control me.
“You’re right,” I agree. “Tonight was just another way he tried to manipulate our family. I was stupid for even entertaining the idea that I could care about that arrogant jerk.”
Rising from my bed, Tatiana pulls me up from my seat and into a hug. “Don’t be too hard on yourself. Catching the attention of a man like that…I get why it would be easy to think it’s something more.”
Giving my sister a tight squeeze, I appreciate her words of wisdom—and reassurance. Still, I find my resolve wavering. I don’t know what’s wrong with me. I’ve never questioned where my loyalties lie before.
But every time I picture Killian, my chest aches at the notion of ending his life.
I need to pull myself together. I can’t keep messing around.
And if I don’t do this tonight, I’m not sure I’ll ever find the strength to kill the man I’m falling for.