16. Tara
16
TARA
The Dean’s office is a blend of old-world charm and modern elegance, with mahogany shelves lined with books and a sleek glass desk at the center.
He rises as I enter, his smile warm and welcoming.
“Miss Craft, it's a pleasure to meet you. Your recommendations are nothing short of stellar.”
“Thank you, Dean,” I reply, shaking his hand firmly.
He gestures for me to sit, and we discuss my academic achievements, aspirations, and the potential role at UCLA. Despite not having my final results yet, he seems confident.
“I have no doubt you'll excel. Let's proceed with setting up the formal interviews if you’re happy to do so.”
I’m buzzing as I leave his office, and the reality of the opportunity begins to sink in. This time next year, I could be lecturing here.
Happy? I’m practically floating. Is this really happening? UCLA. A real future. Maybe even a career that doesn’t revolve around secrets, puzzles, or fake names. Maybe.
My eyes land on Konstantin, standing near the glass wall, tall and sharp in his suit. He sees me, and his posture shifts—upright, alert, but relaxed in the way only someone like him can be. My heart hitches. My stomach flutters. God help me.
“Miss Craft,” the Dean says beside me. “I look forward to seeing you back here soon.”
Konstantin turns and approaches. His presence is commanding, and my heart skips a beat.
Konstantin holds out his hand to the Dean. “Konstantin Romanov. I’m a friend of Miss Craft’s.”
The Dean’s eyes light up. “Are you related to Melor Romanov?”
“He was my uncle.”
“A wonderful man. The Melor Romanov Trust has done more for this city’s hospitals and universities than most philanthropists combined.”
My brow arches as I glance at Konstantin questioningly. He meets my gaze, just for a second. No smugness, no pride. Just a soft smile and a quiet nod as he turns back to the Dean.
“And it will continue to do so,” he says calmly.
The Dean beams. “I know this is very short notice, but if you and Miss Craft have no plans this evening, I know my wife would be honored if you joined us at her charity event. It’s one of her favorites, a children’s hospital fundraiser.”
I open my mouth to politely decline. Konstantin beats me to it.
“We’d be honored.”
“Excellent! I’ll have the invitations couriered to your hotel.”
As the Dean walks off, I spin toward Konstantin. “I thought we were doing dinner and exploring L.A. nightlife?”
“Tara, you don’t turn down invitations like that if you want a job here.”
I fold my arms. “I don’t bribe my way into things.”
“You’re not. You’re demonstrating your intelligence and social awareness. It’s part of the game. Play it.”
I groan. “I didn’t bring cocktail wear.”
He flashes a grin. “Luckily, Rodeo Drive’s still open.”
He’s worse than Irina.
Two hours later, I’m staring at myself in the mirror inside the penthouse suite. I can’t believe I let him buy the damn dress. Deep emerald green, off-shoulder, cinched at the waist and flowing over my hips like silk poured over skin. It makes my hazel eyes look like polished stone. Gold flickers catch in the light when I turn my head.
I add nude heels, a gold clutch, soft makeup, and a twist in my hair. A small voice in my head whispers, You look like you belong. I’m not sure where I belong. I quickly shake off the negative thoughts.
I step into the hallway at the same time Konstantin exits his room and I freeze.
Holy God.
Konstantin in a tuxedo is… devastating. There’s no other word. The black silk lapels frame broad shoulders. Crisp white shirt. Bow tie. His hair swept back. He looks like the villain in a spy movie—the one every woman wants to kiss before she dies.
His eyes sweep over me and his mouth curves into something dangerous. “Absolutely stunning.”
My throat goes dry. I need a drink. Except—fuck. I can’t drink.
It’s going to be a long night.
We arrive at the venue just after eight. The Dean greets us like old friends, but I notice it—he’s more excited to see Konstantin. That name. That wealth. I can’t blame him. Still, he makes a point to introduce me to several of the faculty, including someone from the physics department. “Rising star,” he calls me. I should feel flattered. Instead, I feel exposed.
The ballroom is gilded elegance, every table decked in florals and glassware, crystal chandeliers reflecting golden light across the polished floors. I find a spot on the edge of the room with my club soda, feeling like a fraud in a world built for royalty.
I glance at a nearby server. Champagne sparkles on his tray.
Just one sip.
I raise my hand.
“No,” a voice rumbles close to my ear.
I jump, nearly dropping my glass.
Konstantin’s behind me, a little too close, his breath warm against my neck.
“I’ll find some apple juice for you.”
I laugh. “Grinch!”
“You’ve been eyeing the champagne like it insulted your mother.” He extends a hand as a waltz begins. “Dance with me.”
“I’m warning you,” I say, placing my hand in his. “I’m terrible.”
“I’ll make you float.”
He’s not lying.
The second he wraps his arm around me, I melt into his frame. He leads with confidence, his movements fluid, easy, like the music is coming from his body instead of the orchestra.
I forget how to breathe.
“I thought you said you couldn’t dance,” he murmurs into my ear.
“It must be you,” I whisper. “You’re a very good leader.”
“Are you flattering me, Miss Craft?”
My eyes meet his and everything else fades. Just us. Heat. Breath.
“I’m telling it like it is,” I say, my voice barely audible.
He leans in.
Then he spins me.
The moment shatters.
When he pulls me back, his voice is rough. “What do you say we get out of here and head for that night we were originally going to check out?”
“I’d rather go back to the hotel,” I lie. “I’m tired.”
He doesn’t argue.
In the penthouse, he watches me.
“Would you like me to order something to eat? You didn’t eat much at the function.”
“I’m not hungry,” I say.
For food, anyway.
“I think I’m going to shower, then sleep.”
Konstantin nods, and I don’t look at him. I’m afraid that if I do, I’m going to embarrass myself as I jump his bones. Jesus, Tara. What the fuck is wrong with you?
I’m halfway down the hall when I slip.
The floor skims out from under me. Panic hits like a gunshot. I’m falling. My hands grab air. My heart spikes as my brain screams—the baby.
Then, arms wrap around me. Konstantin catches me before I hit the ground.
I grip his waist, burying my face into his chest, trying to breathe.
“Hey,” he says. “You’re shaking.”
“If I’d hit the floor…” My voice is thin, broken. “I could’ve lost the baby.”
Silence.
His body tenses.
I look up. His eyes blaze.
“But I didn’t,” I whisper. “I didn’t hit the floor because you caught me.”
“I will always catch you, Tara. No matter what,” he says, his voice hoarse.
Then he kisses me.
It’s not soft. It’s not sweet.
It’s everything I’ve held back crashing into one hot, consuming kiss. My hands grip his jacket. His mouth moves over mine with a hunger that sets my blood on fire.
We stumble toward his room, clothes falling in our wake—his jacket first, then my wrap, his bow tie, our shoes. At the bedroom door, he starts to undo the back of my dress and stops. His eyes are dark pools of desire.
He rests his forehead on mine. “We can’t do this, Tara.” His voice is a tortured whisper. “If things were different…”
“Is it because I’m pregnant?”
“Oh God, no.” He tells me there is nothing more beautiful than a woman carrying a baby in her belly.
“Are you married?” I ask
“No.” He shakes his head.
“This is about your boss isn’t it?”
“There is so much you don’t know and so much I can’t tell you,” Konstantin whispers.
“Would you just hold me then?” I ask.
Konstantin bends and scoops me up, then lays me down on the bed like I’m a precious gem. He lays next to me and I snuggle against him with his arm around me and my head on his chest.
“This sounds like a weird question after we’ve been texting like crazy people the past week,” he snorts. “What about you?” Any broken hearts, unrequited love?”
“Do you really want to know?”
“Yeah!” He smiles. “What is your most recent heartbreak?”
“I’m not sure if I’d call it heartbreak.” I tell him truthfully.
“A passionate encounter with a stranger who drove away on his Harley into the sunset.”
Tara laughs. “You should write romance books.”
“Well what was it then?”
“He changed me. In one night.” I look at him. “I know that sounds ridiculous.”
“Life’s ridiculous.”
I stare at the ceiling. “It was just one spontaneous, impulsive night. You know the story. Girl gets stood up at an elegant bar, then in walks the handsome stranger who nearly knocked her over in the middle of the road that afternoon.”
“Mm,” Konstantin plays with my fingers. “I think I’ve seen this movie.”
I give a soft laugh and sigh. “It was just one night. It had been a really weird day. I’d just found the puzzle box, and then Gavriil and Irina asked me to…” Fuck! I nearly blurted it out. “Let’s just say it was a weird day. Then I’m rushing to get to the storage unit for my mother and nearly become a hood ornament to one of the most gorgeous men I’ve ever seen…” I squeeze my eye shut. “Fuck. Sorry.” I turn toward him. “It was a one-night stand complete with me sneaking out of his room at the crack of dawn. My first walk of shame.”
“That’s the last time you heard from or saw him?”
“Yup. He flew away to whence he came!” I sigh. “And he got stuck in my head.”
“He’s a dick,” Konstantin mutters and something flashes in his eyes but it’s gone too soon for me to decipher it. “Trust me, you’re much better off without him. In fact, if he ever crosses your path again, run!” That time, he didn’t disguise the malice in his voice.
“Are you jealous?” I tease and run my hand down his chest. I feel the muscles ripple and my lips itch to kiss and taste him.
Konstantin sucks in a breath as I let my fingers trail down his torso. “Tara!” He groans, grabbing my hand. “I can’t do this.” His voice sounds like it’s laced with pain as he drags my hand away. “We can’t do this.”
He gently rolls me onto my back and leans over me. His eyes are dark pools of desire.
“This is because of your boss!” My eyes search his.
“There is so much you don’t know.” He kisses my forehead and rests his against mine, our breaths mingling. “My boss isn’t such a bad guy. You just have to get past his rough exterior.”
It dawns on me then. “You mean this wasn’t part of your assignment from the Dark Lord you work for?”
“Tara…” Konstantin breathes and rolls over, lying on his back and pulling me into him.
I rest my head on his chest. I know I should get up and leave, but I don’t want to. I’m warm, and even though this is the weirdest night I’ve spent with a man, I don’t want to go.
“It’s okay,” I assure him. “I’m well aware I was an assignment to you.”
“Was…” Konstantin says. “Well… I have to make it appear as if it still is.”
“I understand,” I say, stifling a yawn. “You don’t want your boss to kill you for sleeping with your assignment.”
“It’s not my life I’m worried about,” Konstantin tells me. “Ruslan is not a bad guy. He’s… just…”
“A Dark Lord on a mission to ensure I don’t come between his sister and her husband,” I say, my eyes starting to feel heavy.
“That was before…” Konstantin stops what he was about to say. “I think it’s become a bit more, though.”
“Like?” I start to snuggle closer to his warmth, and his other arm wraps around me, holding me, and I don’t hear his answer as I drift off to sleep.
I wake to his phone vibrating. The early rays of the morning sun are pushing in through the heavy drapes.
He slips from the bed to take the call.
A few minutes later, he returns, eyes dark.
“You have to go.” His voice has an urgency to it.
“What?”
“I’ve booked a car for you and I’ve arranged for my jet to take you back to Vegas.”
“Why? What’s happening?” I sit up and blink in confusion.
“Ruslan Dragunov is coming. He’ll be in L.A. soon.”
My breath catches.
He helps me dress and packs my bag with steady hands.
“I know you were sent to watch me,” I say.
He looks at me. Then nods.
“It stopped being about that a while ago. I care about you. More than I should.” Konstantin repeats what he said the night before.
“Why is he coming?” I ask. “Is he after my baby now because Irina hasn’t produced an heir?”
I see his eyes widen in surprise, and I tell him, “Yes, I know about that.”
“He does want Gavriil’s baby.” Konstantin confirms. “But he wants more than that.” His voice is tight as his eyes meet mine. “You have to disappear for a few days while he’s in town. When he doesn’t find you here, he’s going to go to Vegas.”
“What more does he want?” My brow furrows while my brain is still stuck on that part of the conversation.
Konstantin’s jaw clamps and the muscle on the side ticks. “He wants you, Tara.”
My heart drops. “Why me? I’ve never met the man.”
“Yes, you have,” Konstantin’s voice lowers. “Now, please, Tara. Do you have someone you can go to and lay low until I can get him back to Russia?”
I nod. “I know someone.”
“Good. I’ll need your phone.”
I don’t even ask why; I just give it to him, as my brain is trying to work out when I met Ruslan Dragunov and why he wants me as well as the baby.
Konstantin hides the phone under the pillow and then ushers me to the elevator. At the elevator, he kisses me like it’s goodbye.
“You were an assignment. But you became something else. So much, much more. That’s the truth, no matter what happens next.”
I nod, stunned by his words, and my head is spinning.
As the doors close, Konstantin turns and pulls off his shirt.
My heart stops.
A dragon coils around his torso. I’ve seen a dragon like that before. It’s the same as Damien’s.
What am I missing? I feel like the answer is right in front of my eyes, but my brain is refusing to acknowledge it. As soon as I’m in the lobby, I’m ushered to an SUV waiting outside. As I slide into the backseat, the door closes. The SUV starts to pull off, and another pulls up.
The SUV turns to head down the drive and a man steps out of the newly arrived vehicle.
Tall. Dark-haired. Dangerous… gorgeous… My breathing becomes shallow. My eyes widen.
Damien.
My mind whirls. What is he doing here? Was it even Damien? My mind feels like it's been stuffed too full of information, information it doesn’t want to process. I know there is something I’m forgetting. My mind whirls back to that night at the bar.
I see Damien introduce himself, I’m Damien Romanov!
Romanov! My eyes fly open. The tattoos!
Later, on the jet, as the pilot hands me my shiny new burner phone, I ask him, “Does Konstantin have a brother named Damien?
”
“No. But his cousin uses that alias.”
My blood runs cold.
“Alias?”
The pilot nods.
I stare out the window as the plane takes off.
“Apple juice, Miss Craft?” The air stewardess makes me jump.
“Sorry, I didn’t mean to frighten you.”
“No, I was miles away,” I tell her, taking the glass of apple juice.
“I’m getting some breakfast ready for you.” She hands me a rolled-up magazine.
“I thought you might like to do some light reading while you wait for breakfast.”
There is something in her eyes.
Like they say, Take the magazine.
I smile and take it.
“Thank you.”
She smiles warmly and walks away.
For a while, I also thought Konstantin wasn’t a bad person.
Now I’m conflicted.
Yes, I know I was an assignment.
Yes, I know I instigated the texting.
Yes, I know what I was walking into.
Well, part of it.
My brow furrows.
But at least I know he really is Konstantin Romanov.
What I want to know is who the fuck Damien Romanov really is.
I had a one-night stand with a man who didn’t even give me his real name.
I drop the magazine as I’m so deep in thought wondering who the fuck Damine Romanov is, that I forget it’s in my hand.
I bend to scoop it up and freeze.
It’s a Russian magazine with the headline: Moscow Number One Law Firm, Dragunov Law…
”
The rest of the headline fades away as my eyes fall on the picture of Ruslan Dragunov, and my breath catches in my throat.
My fingers feel stiff, and my body goes cold, and the book roars in my ears as I find the answer to my question—Damien is Ruslan Dragunov!