Chapter 15 Kon
KON
It shouldn’t be a shock to see Taylor, given how much I’ve watched her since we returned to London.
I haven’t let her see me though, and the burn of Taylor’s gaze on the back of my neck during dinner was like a sunbeam that is turning my skin red, but I can’t step away from the heat because the alternative is so, so cold.
I watch her constantly. Follow her. I should forget her, and stay away, but I can’t.
At the side of the dance floor, I boil with jealous rage, and keep my distance, watching like the fucking stalker that I am. Taylor is an inattentive partner though, distracted and looking around the room.
She makes a good show, but she looks sad to me. Something in her eyes that’s hollow, even as she’s dancing with a son or cousin of someone. I’m not sure anyone else has noticed.
I don’t think she sees me, in the shadows.
When she leaves the dance floor, smiling tightly, I lose sight of her in the crowd, and my heart dips.
I can’t hide from this. I’m going to go after her.
This is obsession, and I’m obscenely wealthy, powerful, and apparently that means nothing, because the one person I really want is forbidden to me because I’m too old and too depraved for her.
Taylor.
“Kon.”
I jump as Taylor appears next to me, smile bright and eyes unsure, and suddenly I’m as stupid as a brick.
“Hi!”
I go to reach for her, pull her into my arms where she belongs, and remember just in time that she isn’t actually mine. She’s too sweet and young for me. I’d only break her.
“Thought I’d come over and say hi.” She shifts from foot to foot.
I button up my suit jacket then stuff my hands into my trouser pockets to prevent myself from cupping her face and kissing her silly.
Her smile wavers when I still don’t say anything.
“Just see how you are. You know?”
“Good.” I force the word out. “I’m good. Thank you.”
“I’m glad.” She swings her arms awkwardly, which given how graceful she naturally is, is impressive.
We stare at each other, and it’s like she’s drinking me in as much as I am her. I’m so happy to see her. I could bathe in her presence. There’s music, and sure I’d love to dance with her, hold her, and have her close, but after this time apart, this is enough. It’s life-sustaining.
“And you?” Such a conversationalist. I should take tips from Mortlake.
“Yes.” She nods.
“It’s a lovely wedding,” I observe and that’s not what I want to say.
I’m desperate to hear how she really is, and whether she’d like to meet up for a coffee, lunch, cinema night, elopement, evening of hot sex where I tell her that I can’t survive without her and I love her so intensely I make the sun look chill. Any of those would be fine.
“Did you have a good dinner?” she asks. Her gaze flicks over to where her sisters are dancing, as though she’s nervous of being seen with me.
“I was seated with Mortlake.” I make a resigned, ironic face.
She shakes her head in confusion.
“Ah. Yes. Uh. I got more conversation from his baby.” Sweet little thing. “He’s not a great conversationalist, Mortlake. Apparently, he did speak when he was trying to find his wife, and I’m not important enough to justify words. But I’m having a better evening now.”
“Good.” She shifts infinitesimally closer, looking up and me and then smoothing her perfectly in-place hair. “I’ve been wanting to see you,” she says in a rush.
My heart launches itself into my throat. Me too, I want to reply, but the blood-pumping organ where I should have an air pipe prevents me.
“To say thank you.”
Annnnddd then my heart plummets to my feet, down through my shoes, splintering the wooden floor beneath us and keeps going until it’s at the centre of the fiery core of the earth where it burns to a sad black crisp.
“There’s no need.” I sound strained.
“I only realised afterwards what a risk you took for me, and then I made it even worse.”
That’s an accurate portrayal of the situation, but hardly the whole picture since I’d have sold my soul and all my organs, to any entity willing to buy them, to get her free.
“I bet Aleksandr was angry.”
“Mm.” I make a non-committal noise.
“Something happened?” Her brows lower in concern.
“It’s nothing,” I reassure her. Nothing she should worry about, anyway.
“It’s obviously not nothing!” she squeaks.
“It really…” Her expression is so distressed I stop.
I consider lying, but there’s no point.
“He stole my jet in retaliation.” I paid a fortune for the night with Taylor, but apparently that wasn’t enough. “The shipment I sent him thinking we might be able to keep to the deal went ‘missing’, and there was a small poisoning incident for the crew as well—”
“Oh my god!” Her horror is writ large on her sweet face.
“But Russians are so bad at surface contaminant poisoning, everyone is fine. They were in the hospital in intensive care for a while, but—”
“This all happened because of me!”
“No. No,” I say abruptly. “Aleksandr was going to come for me eventually. He just wanted to make his point. Message received. I’ll stay out of his territory from now on.”
“Stick to the London Maths Club and kissing babies?” She smiles wanly.
“Yes.” And stalking her. That’s my obsession.
“You told me they were all wife guys, you didn’t tell me they were all baby guys, too,” she teases. The party goes on around us, but all I can see is Taylor, and she’s only looking at me. “They were all talking about babies over dinner. Canary Wharf’s wife is pregnant. Again.”
“Please pass on my congratulations.” I can’t quite summon a smile.
“You sound sort of… Strangled.” She furrows her brow with curiosity.
I consider for a second, then go with honesty. “I guess jealousy can do that.”
The statement hangs in the air, held up by the music—a pop song I’m too old to recognise that’s something about love—the warmth of the room, and the lines of tension between us.
“Me too,” she murmurs, and my heart skips.
“You want a baby?”
“A family of my own.” She huffs. “Not very likely. I think I’ll just end up as weird Aunty Taylor. A cat lady.”
Her bottom lip trembles, and I realise that I haven’t asked the important question here. I let her distract me with small talk.
“How are you readjusting?” I remember London being a shock compared to being part of Volk, and I had a lot more power than Taylor does. “Are you okay?” I lower my voice. “I mean, really?”