15. Emily
15
EMILY
I thought stepping foot into my dead sister’s apartment and nearly getting killed by an unknown man was the most shocking thing that would happen to me today.
Turns out I was wrong.
So. Fucking. Wrong.
When Konstantin first showed up and saved me from certain death, my heart had swelled with gratitude.
When he wrenched the knife out of my hand and yanked me close to him, gratitude became doubt.
When he gagged me, flipped me on my stomach, and started tying my hands behind my back, doubt turned into fear.
When he slung me over his shoulder, his thick powerful fingers squeezing my thighs to keep me from kicking him in his muscular chest, fear transformed into something else.
Something primal and visceral.
Something that makes my thighs instinctively clamp together and squeeze.
Something that sends a searing throb between my legs.
Something that makes my toes curl and claw against the confines of my shoes.
And when he tells me that he can’t let me go, all while his icy-blue eyes pierces me to my core, and the car continues to race towards some unknown destination …
I can’t help the needy whimper that escapes from my lips.
At the sound, Konstantin’s gaze turns towards me, and I struggle against his silky tie that’s still keeping my hands bound behind my back. He cocks his head to one side and then slowly reaches over.
There’s nowhere for me to back up.
A maddening thought suddenly rushes through me. Panic and excitement suddenly wars in my mind.
Is he going to kiss me?
“Wait …” I breathe.
He can’t kiss me. Because if he does, I know I won’t want him to stop.
Even though he’d just killed a man in front of me, even though he’d just kidnapped me, I can’t help feel this dark attraction towards him.
Almost as if I want him to show me just how far he can go.
To show me how far I can go.
What the fuck is wrong with me?
But to my surprise and disappointment, he doesn’t kiss me. Instead, he reaches behind me—the weight and heat of his body temptingly cruel against mine—and in one smooth, practiced motion, frees my hands from their restraints.
As soon as my hands are free, I glance at the locked door.
“Go ahead, try.” He seems to be able to read my mind. “At this speed, the air pressure will make it almost impossible to open that door far enough before I pull you back in.”
And just like that, I know that there’s no way out.
“Let me out of this car,” I say quietly. My limbs suddenly feel heavy, and I know that it’s the adrenaline leaving my body. “Now.”
“I told you.” He shakes his head. “I can’t let you go anymore.”
Here it comes, he’s probably going to ask me again about what I’m doing in Olivia’s apartment.
However, he surprises me with a different question instead.
“Why did you leave?”
“What?” I gasp.
“Italy,” he says. “Why did you leave?”
Of all things he can ask me, he’s asking me about why I didn’t wait for him to come back?
I chew my lower lip. I have no good answers for him. Because as curious as he is about why I’m here, I’m equally curious about what he’s doing here.
“I can’t tell you that.”
“Don’t lie to me, Kitty Cat.” His expression darkens, and I feel need throbbing between my legs again.
Yep, I’m officially fucked in the head now. That’s the only explanation.
“It bothered you that I didn’t stay,” I say, my mouth working as fast as my brain. “Didn’t it?”
He doesn’t respond, and I have my answer.
“Why?” I ask.
“I’m the one asking questions here.”
I look away, but I can still feel his gaze peeling back the layers of my mind, everywhere and nowhere. I know there’s nothing and nowhere I can hide from him. I can hear him in my head even as the two of us sit here in silence.
“Where are we going?” I break the silence.
The car’s tires crunch over gravel as we turn off the highway. Lifting his head, he motions out the windows.
I tear my gaze away from him just in time for the roar of a jet engine overhead to drown out all other sounds. And that’s when I realize where we are.
The airport.
Oh God…
The tendril of dark excitement starts to snake around my core, wrapping its tentacle around my mind and squeezing until there’s no other thought other than the same fantasy that refused to leave my mind since we danced the night away in the Amalfi Coast.
Konstantin laying me down to the floor and ripping my clothes away as his searing lips trace my body. His thick powerful fingers forcing my legs apart so that his tongue can explore me. The weight of his muscled body against mine, his cock filling me up until I can’t take it anymore.
I clench my jaws and swallow as another warm drop of desire trickle between my legs.
That had been a reckless fantasy.
And now, it seems dangerously close to becoming reality.
The car rolls to a halt. When it comes to a stop, the driver steps out and Konstantin follows. I try to stay back, but Konstantin yanks me out of the car.
The cacophony of the airport is overwhelming, and I realize that I can scream as loud as I want out here, and no-one will hear me.
The driver mouths something that I can’t catch, and then bounds up the stairs towards the jet.
“No! No! No!” I dig my heels into the asphalt. “You’re not taking me on that!”
“Not afraid of flying, are you?” Konstantin asks as he tugs me behind him.
“I’m afraid of you!”
“That almost hurt my feelings, Kitty Cat.”
Good. I think savagely. But I know better than to say it out loud at this point.
I have no idea where this man plans to take me, but I’ve read watched enough true crime documentaries to know that the moment your kidnapper takes you to a second location, your chance of survival drops to almost zero.
And I have a feeling that even in the best of circumstances, I’ll have a hard time surviving being alone with Konstantin.
For a number of very different reasons.
I try to fight back with every step, but he still manages to force me inside the jet. The driver, with a scar on his face and narrow brown eyes, is waiting for us inside. Without asking, he hurries to close the door, sealing us in. He gives us one final look before vanishing into the cockpit.
Now that I can’t escape, Konstantin finally releases my wrist. Rubbing my arm gingerly as I back away, I watch him warily like he might lunge for my throat.
And just like all of our interactions earlier today, the thought of his fingers wrapped around my throat sends another rush of excitement and want through me.
Dammit! What’s wrong with me today?
“Are you finally going to tell me what the hell you’re doing with me?” I finally force the words out of my mouth.
He doesn’t answer.
“I’m done playing nice!” I snarl. “Answer me!”
“This is you being nice?” He points to the cut on his face, smirking.
That smirk. That stupid sexy lopsided smirk. Seeing that again makes it almost impossible for me to hate him.
Almost.
“Was I supposed to just politely let you kidnap me?”
“Stop using that word.”
“Oh, I’m sorry, do you have a better word to describe what you just did?” I throw my hands up. “Because that’s exactly what I’d call this whole experience. Also, why are you refusing to tell me one good reason why?”
With every word, I feel my anger slowly rising to the surface.
And then, I do something stupid.
I give him a hard shove.
To my own surprise, he doesn’t react. Maybe the knowledge that I can’t escape anymore is enough to restrain him.
Or, a tiny little voice whispers in the back of my head. He’s just thinking of new ways to punish you for this.
“Well?” I ask. His silence and inaction make me bolder than I have any right to be. Crossing my arm and jutting out my chin, I stare into his inscrutable eyes. “You got me on your plane. Just what the hell are you going to do to me?”
He continues to stare at me, and I long to know just what kind of twisted thoughts are turning behind his handsome face. A hundred different thoughts race through my mind in a second, each one dirtier than the last.
Which is why his answer is all the more shocking.
Because it’s the last thing I ever expected out of him.
“I’m going to marry you.”