Chapter 25
CHAPTER 25
KOSTYA
P ut me in a room with a dozen armed Russians, all half-drunk and one wrong word away from blowing each other’s heads off, and I was cold as fucking ice.
But put me alone in a room with this woman—this maddening, reckless, mouthy contradiction of a woman—and I was at a fucking loss.
“I find it hard to regret anything that has led me to this moment.”
Marina’s lips curled as she tore off a bite of warm bread, chewing as she considered my words. “What does that mean?”
“It means that if things hadn’t happened exactly as they did, you and I wouldn’t be here right now. With you eating enough food to feed a small army.”
Her bright eyes gleamed. “Are you questioning my room service ordering skills?”
“I’m questioning your nutritional decisions,” I shot back, the attempt at levity feeling foreign, unnatural .
She reached for another piece of bread, breaking it in half, the steam curling between her fingers as she lifted it to my lips. “Eat this.”
“No,” I said, even as my mouth damn near watered. “There’s no value in that. It’s simple carbs.”
Her gaze flicked to mine, challenging. “It’s amazing.”
The smug certainty in her voice had something dark and dangerous coiling in my gut. I leaned in and let my lips brush her fingertips before I bit into the bread.
Goddamn it. She was right. It was good.
A soft sound of triumph left her lips, and I fought the urge to drag her across the table and replace that cocky smirk with a gasp.
Instead, I said the one thing I knew I shouldn’t. “Do you have regrets, Marina?”
I braced myself for the answer I didn’t want to hear.
For her to tell me she regretted fucking me in that train car, and in the shower—though she hadn’t exactly had much of a choice. Or that she regretted not finishing the job when she knocked me unconscious. That she regretted not calling the police, or running further, or a thousand other things she should have done.
But she just shrugged, unconcerned, tearing off another bite of bread. “Life’s too short for regrets.” She licked a crumb from her lower lip, utterly unfazed by the weight of the conversation. “Why waste time on things I can’t change when I could be focused on living in the moment? Enjoying absolutely everything in front of me?”
I leaned in, letting my gaze drop to her mouth before meeting her eyes. “Everything? ”
The word sat between us, heavy, charged, thick with meaning.
Her lips parted slightly, but she didn’t look away.
Didn’t back down.
A slow, knowing smile curled the edges of her mouth, and fuck if I didn’t want to devour her all over again.
“Did you know my sister was cheating on you?” she asked suddenly.
The conversational shift hit me like a punch to the ribs.
I exhaled slowly, carefully. Tread lightly .
I had told Marina I would give her the truth, at least as long as it didn’t put her in danger. This truth wouldn’t. But I also wasn’t in the habit of speaking ill of the dead. Especially not someone she had loved.
But she hadn’t asked if Veronika had cheated.
She had asked if I knew .
Meaning she already did.
What else did she know?
“Yes,” I said, watching her carefully, measuring her reaction. “I knew she was with other men. I knew she wasn’t even discreet about it, despite our agreements. And I know that’s what got her killed.”
Marina didn’t flinch. Didn’t hesitate. “Tell me the truth. No lies. Did you do it?”
My answer was immediate. “No.” My voice was steady, unwavering.
I hadn’t loved Veronika. I hadn’t even been faithful to her—not in the ways that mattered. Not in the way that counted. Because from the moment I first saw her little sister I had been a fucking traitor .
I never touched Marina.
Never crossed that line.
Not when she wasn’t mine, when she was too untouched, too fucking off-limits. Not when she looked at me with those big, curious eyes.
But it hadn’t stopped me from thinking about her. Hadn’t stopped me from wondering how her lips would feel wrapped around my cock. Hadn’t stopped me from watching, from waiting, from wanting. And now, years later, after she had run, after she had fought me at every turn, I had her exactly where I wanted her.
In my world.
In my hands.
And no matter how much she tried to play coy, tried to pretend she wasn’t affected, I saw the way her pulse ticked at the base of her throat. I saw the way her breath caught when I leaned in.
She wanted me. The way I had always wanted her.
Marina inhaled slowly, her fingers curling against her lap as if she were bracing herself.
Because she knew .
Knew the answer as well as I did.
Because Veronika might have been my wife, but Marina had always been my obsession.
And now? Now there was no one left to tell me I couldn’t have her.
No contract to keep us apart. No thin veil of morality stopping me from taking her the way I had wanted to for years.
She belonged to me.
She just didn’t realize it yet .
“I may not have loved Veronika,” I admitted, “but I wouldn’t have killed her. It wasn’t a love match. It was a contract.”
“Did you hate her?”
I hesitated. The easy answer was yes. It would have made everything simpler. But it wouldn’t have been the truth.
“No.” The word came out lower than I expected.
Marina’s gaze sharpened. Calculating.
“I was disappointed,” I said finally. “I had certain expectations. Hopes. I thought we’d at least have a functional partnership. When that fell apart, I let it go. But I didn’t hate her.” I leaned forward, my voice dropping, darkening. “Though I am furious at the situation she’s put you in.”
That part was true.
Veronika had been reckless, and now Marina was tangled up in a game she had no business playing. A game that would get her killed.
“She didn’t know,” Marina said, her voice quieter now. “I told her sleeping with another mafia boss was stupid. Especially one from a rival family. I told her she was wasting an incredible opportunity by making poor life choices, and she was.” She exhaled, jaw tightening as if she hated herself for still caring. “But she never would have given me that bag if she knew it came with strings.”
I studied her. The careful way she said that bag instead of the money. As if she were still trying to separate herself from it, as if she hadn’t already drenched her hands in the blood Veronika left behind .
I tilted my head. “Do you know what those strings were?”
“No.” A flicker of unease crossed her face. “The only thing I know is that she said if anything happened to her, I needed to take the money and run. So that’s what I did.”
She ran.
And I chased.
I raked a hand through my hair, the full picture coming together piece by piece. Veronika had known she was playing with fire. She hadn’t protected herself—but she’d tried to protect Marina .
And she had sent her right into my hands.
Marina studied me, then asked, “If you knew Veronika was cheating, why didn’t you ever say anything?”
I felt the weight of that question settle between us.
“Every time I threw her in your face,” she continued, her voice quieter now, “you could have told me she was sleeping with other men. You could have shut me down. But you never did.”
I looked at her, my pulse steady but thick with something darker.
“She was your sister,” I said simply. “You loved her. I didn’t know you knew about her affairs, and I didn’t want to trash her memory in your eyes.”
Something shifted in her expression.
Not quite softness—something worse.
Something dangerous.
“Oh…”
That tiny fucking sound, barely even a word. If Marina ever realized how helpless I was when she looked at me like that, I was fucking ruined .
I leaned in. “If you knew what your sister was doing, then why didn’t you use that information against me?”
Her lips parted slightly, her pulse flickering at the base of her throat.