35. Natasha
35
NATASHA
I catch sight of Killian’s right-hand man out of the corner of my eye. But I don’t turn my head as my cheeks start to flame. As grateful as I am that he appears to be standing guard, a barrier to stop anyone from walking in on us, I hate the very real possibility that he heard what just took place.
And my core clenches at the exhibitionist display. Arousal coats the inside of my thighs, making my clit throb at the reminder of my passionate encounter with Killian.
But the guilt that twists my gut overrides it.
I move quickly back through the event space, racing down the stairs until I’m in the ballroom once more.
My eyes meet Tatiana’s as soon as I walk through the door. And from the look on her face, I know she knows. And she’s disappointed in me. Because once again, I chose Killian over my family. Only this time, I didn’t even try to kill him.
I just let him have me.
And God, it was the best feeling in the world.
I sense him moments before I feel his shoulder brush mine. And then Killian’s beside me, steering me with his commanding presence.
“Dance with me, Miss Sokolov?” he requests, his tone light and formal—like a gentleman who’s only just approaching me for the first time.
My stomach quivers at the thought of being in his arms, of having our bodies pressed close together once more after what just happened. But in this public space, with countless people within earshot, I can’t refuse him without sounding blatantly offensive.
And seeing as it’s my parents’ charity ball, declining to dance with one of our guests would be nothing short of rude.
“Of course, Mr. King,” I say, my response coming out breathier than I would like.
Electricity jolts up my arm as his hand slips into mine so he can guide me onto the dance floor. No one else seems to notice anything out of the ordinary.
But I can sense Tatiana’s death glare on the back of my head, and I know she’s seriously debating murdering Killian right here and now—or perhaps telling our father everything. I glance nervously toward my parents, fearful that she’s leaning toward the latter.
They’re both caught up in a conversation with the governor, however, which means I have some time to fix the situation I find myself in.
“Marriage isn’t a death sentence, you know,” Killian says softly as his arms form a strong frame around me.
And he sweeps me around the dance floor.
My feet move from muscle memory, allowing my mind the freedom to assess just how I should handle the conversation he’s clearly not willing to let go.
“I never said it was,” I say stiffly, fighting the way my chest squeezes as he refuses to take no for an answer. Because as much as I wish he’d never mentioned the idea of marriage, now, I can’t get it out of my head.
And it fills me with such intense longing, it nearly knocks me off my feet.
“Then say yes,” he presses, his green eyes dancing as he baits me yet again.
“Killian, I can’t .” And what hurts most is the realization that, if the world were without so many complications and rivalries, I might actually want to say yes.
Because, try as I might to fight it, my feelings for Killian are undeniable. I love the way he makes me feel. I love the person I am when I’m with him. And I don’t just yearn for him sexually. I want him by my side all the time. Because he makes me laugh. He leaves me giddy with excitement. And when he looks at me, I feel like I’m the only woman on earth.
“You can , Natasha. All you have to do is say yes. And I can see it in your eyes that you want to. You feel it too,” he presses, sending butterflies erupting in my stomach.
And despite myself, I feel my walls starting to crumble. I’ve never wanted something so badly for myself—to just let go and trust that Killian will fix this. But I don’t know that I have it in me to betray my family like that. And without a doubt, that’s how they would perceive it.
My father might never forgive me. Tatiana certainly wouldn’t. Not when marrying Killian would call into question all our hard-fought battles for independence as women in a man’s world.
And after everything my father has done to ensure we will be the ones to rule when he steps down…it would be like spitting in his face.
“Killian…” I murmur, the knot in my throat making it hard to breathe. Because turning him down again is going to be the hardest thing I’ll ever do. And my greatest fear is that I’ll live to regret it.
I let the silence linger, savoring my last moments with him before I obliterate whatever this is between us. And in that peaceful quiet, I take in what a good dancer he is. How naturally we fit together as we move around the dance floor.
It’s terrifying how right this feels.
And for one fleeting moment, I can see the future Killian has in mind.
The happiness we might find together. I know I shouldn’t want it, but I do.
I want it with such a deep, aching need that it steals my breath away and brings tears to my eyes.
Then I catch sight of Tatiana. Her expression is stony as she weaves across the dance floor toward us, ignoring any man who pauses in an effort to engage her. She’s had enough—she’s seen enough, and she’s on her way to give me a harsh dose of reality.
But just as she reaches us, her lips parting to unleash a fiery lashing, the violent report of gunfire shatters the romance of the evening.
My heart stops, my body seizing as I tense instinctually. And Killian and I both duck at the same time. While I pivot, searching for the source of the horrible sound, Killian’s arm wraps around me bringing me beneath the protective cover of his body.
Then come the screams.
Bloodcurdling and filled with horror, a swelling chorus of agonized cries split the air inside the crowded ballroom.
It takes me less than a second to pinpoint the pack of armed men flooding the charity ball—Italians, led by none other than Don Lucian Agosti.
My stomach plummets as my eyes land on his face, etched from stone and focused with laser intent. He’s cutting a path straight toward my parents, who now hover near the side of the stage, waiting for the speech they were ready to give as they welcomed their guests.
Papa’s arm is wrapped protectively around my mother’s shoulders, pulling her close—just like Killian is doing for me. And my heart stops when I see the future before it unfolds.
The results of this bloody surprise attack that was clearly planned.
“No!” I scream as Lucian’s men mow down the guards standing between him and my father.
And as the bullets rip through the bodies of my father’s loyal men, making them jerk and convulse on their way to the ground…
Two bullets find their way into my father’s chest.
Horror grips me, draining the blood from my face as I watch my father’s stunned expression. His arm tightens around my mother, instinctively attempting to remove her from the danger. And his eyes track toward me and Tatiana.
For a fleeting moment, our eyes meet across the sea of screaming guests.
And my father sees it—he sees everything. Me in Killian’s arms, his nemesis using his own body to shield me from harm. Intense relief washes across his features.
Then my father falls lifeless.
My mother screams, the sound so broken and devastated that it rips a sob from my chest. And she turns to look at the love of her life lying dead at her feet, agonizing loss twisting her beautiful features.
But her pain is over in an instant as another bullet slips between her shoulder blades and exits through her chest. A crimson riot explodes from her chest as her heart quite literally shatters.
Then she collapses on top of my father. Both parents stolen from me in a matter of seconds.
“Papa!” Tatiana screams beside me, and when I turn my head toward her in a daze, I find her hand covering her mouth, her eyes wide with horror.
“Shit!” Killian snarls.
In my shell-shocked haze, I look up at his handsome face in confusion. Then I follow his blazing eyes back toward the bloody massacre where my parents lie slaughtered.
But that’s not what Killian cussed about.
It’s the fact that, with my parents dead, Don Lucian has now turned his gaze upon me and Tatiana. And he’s stalking toward us with ice-cold intent.
“Move, Natasha. Move!” Killian growls as he hauls my rigid body backward toward the exit.
My heart stops as, for a moment, I’m terrified that Tatiana might get left behind. Our father’s men are all dead, lying in bloody heaps on the ground. And while I might have momentarily frozen in shock and horror, Tatiana doesn’t have the same combat skills as I do.
She’s never been a physical fighter, choosing instead to wage war with her words. And while she’s the most effective debater and negotiator I’ve ever met, I don’t think that’s enough to save her in the midst of this bloodbath.
“Tatiana!” I call, searching frantically for her.
Then her fingers are lacing with mine, and I realize Killian’s man Lance is serving as her shield.
“We have to go. Now!” Killian shouts over the panicking crowd.
Then he steers us toward the exit, allowing the mob to carry us part of the way.
But rather than getting swept up in the general mayhem that could easily end up with us trampled, he and Lance haul us toward the lesser-known emergency stairs toward the back of the building.
Intense gratitude floods my chest as Killian takes charge because I’m so numb from the agonizing loss of my parents that I can’t quite see straight, let alone think in a straight line.
Vaguely, I catch the sound of someone sobbing inconsolably, and I look to Tatiana, worried that she might be falling apart.
But to my astonishment, aside from being as pale as a ghost, she’s not crying.
Instead, her blue eyes are filled with such intense concern that it overrides her unbearable grief.
“Breathe, Natasha,” she says softly, giving my frigid fingers a firm squeeze.
Then it hits me—I’m the one making that awful noise.
My lungs burn as I realize I’m hyperventilating, and horrible tremors rack my body.
“I’ve got you, love,” Killian murmurs, his strong arms holding me in one piece when otherwise I would surely fall apart completely.
Lance shoves the metal stairwell door open with a bang, and he leads the charge down the stairs, raising a gun he shouldn’t have possession of at an event like this because we insist on disarming everyone.
Tatiana follows close behind him with me and Killian bringing up the rear.
But as we reach the first landing, everyone stops short.
We’re cut off by no less than five of Lucian’s men. All armed.