13. Emily
13
EMILY
My eyes squeeze shut as the knife descends, but somehow, the pain never comes. Instead, a banging sound—so loud that it leaves my ears ringing in pain—overwhelms the tiny space. My would-be murderer screams. The grip around my neck loosens and something falls off to the side.
The knife!
Adrenaline and the animal instinct to survive take over.
I pick up the knife in my left hand and, screaming, stab into the man’s face.
He shrieks and rears back up away from me, just in time for his head to explode in a shower of pink mist.
He collapses to the floor.
Dead.
Panting as my heart races at a million beats a second, I prop myself up and stare at disbelief at the person in front of me.
Familiar mahogany hair, thick on top and turning into a fade that tapers towards his long, tan neck. Ice-blue eyes. A tiny mole below his right eye that’s no longer shifting up.
He’s dressed as sharply as he was when I last saw him. White sleeves peek out from under his suit, and a heavy gold watch clings to his wrist.
Konstantin.
He quickly closes the distance between us, wrench the knife out of my left hand, and pull me up on my feet until his ice-blue eyes are the only thing I can see. The warmth of his touch leaves my knees feeling weak.
All I can do is look up at him, asking myself silently if I’m not already dead.
But he is no longer the charming man who danced with me in a hidden bar with the scent of lemons in the air.
He looks like a different man now.
A dangerous man.
All at once his eyes narrow in a mixture of fury, recognition, and something else.
Something that makes my stomach loop in anticipation and warmth pooling between my legs.
His hand tightens around my wrist, and when he speaks, that familiar deep rumble of his voice—like chocolate to my ears—wakes me up to the fact that this is real.
He really is standing here in front of me.
“Fancy seeing you here, Kitty Cat.”