Chapter 5 Konstantin
Konstantin
The house is full of activity. Baking, wrapping presents, endless conversations in Russian and English blending together. Christmas music plays from every room. The smell of cinnamon and pine is everywhere.
I'm stuck on a business call in Dimitri's office, dealing with a shipment problem that should have been handled yesterday.
"I don't care about the weather," I tell Mikhail, keeping my voice low. "Find another route. Handle it."
"Boss, the roads are—"
"Not my problem. Make it work."
I end the call and lean back in the chair. Being pakhan doesn't stop for holidays. It doesn't stop for family gatherings or Christmas or the fact that I have the woman I've been obsessing over for eleven months sleeping in my bed.
There's a soft knock on the door.
"Come in."
Jemma pokes her head in, looking uncertain. "Sorry. Your mom said you were in here. I can come back."
"No." I stand immediately. "Come in. Please."
She slips inside and closes the door. Her hair is down, slightly messy, and I want to bury my hands in it.
"Everything okay?" she asks.
"Work. Nothing important."
"You run a criminal empire. I'm pretty sure it's all important."
"Not as important as you."
She blushes. Even after everything we've done, she blushes when I say things like that.
"Your family is very..." She searches for the word. "Intense. In a good way. But I needed a break from all the... warmth."
I almost smile. "Too much Russian hospitality?"
"Your mother tried to teach me how to make pirozhki. I failed spectacularly. There's dough everywhere." She holds up her flour-covered hands. "I think I'm banned from the kitchen."
"Unlikely. My mother loves you."
"She loves the idea of you having a girlfriend. There's a difference."
"No. She loves you." I walk over to her, take her flour-covered hands in mine. "Everyone does. You fit here."
"I'm pretending, Konstantin. We both are."
"Are we?" I pull her closer. "Because it doesn't feel like pretending anymore."
She looks up at me, her expression uncertain. Vulnerable. "What are we doing?"
"Right now? I'm trying to figure out how to get you alone for a few hours."
"Your family is everywhere."
"I have an idea." I release her hands and grab my coat from the chair. "Come with me."
"Where?"
"You'll see."
I lead her downstairs, grab her coat from the closet, and help her into it despite her protests that she can dress herself. Then I take her hand and pull her toward the back door.
"Kostenka! Where you going?" My mother appears from the kitchen, covered in flour and wielding a wooden spoon like a weapon.
"For a walk."
"In the cold? Is snowing!"
"We'll be fine, Mama."
"You take her outside, you keep her warm! She is too skinny, she will freeze!"
"I'll keep her warm."
"And don't be gone too long! We have dinner at six! And you need to help Dimitri with the—"
I close the door on her protests.
Outside, the air is crisp and cold. Fresh snow has fallen overnight, covering everything in pristine white. The sun is starting to set, casting everything in golden light. Christmas lights from the house glow softly behind us.
"Where are we going?" Jemma asks.
"Nowhere specific. I just needed to get away from the chaos." I keep her hand in mine as we walk down a path that leads into the woods behind the house. "And I wanted you to myself for a while."
We walk in comfortable silence for a few minutes. The only sounds are our footsteps crunching in the snow and the distant sound of music from the house. The woods are beautiful—evergreen trees heavy with snow, everything quiet and peaceful.
"This is nice," Jemma says quietly. "It's been a long time since I've just... existed somewhere without stress."
"That's the problem with me, Jemma. I saw that you were stressed and I hated it. I want to lock you up and keep you safe, but I also want to give you everything you've ever wanted."
"What do you think I want?"
"Safety. Stability. Someone who sees you." I cup her face with my free hand. "Someone who chooses you. Every day. Without hesitation."
Her eyes are welling up. "Konstantin."
"I know this started wrong. I know I took your choice away. But I'm giving it back now." I lean my forehead against hers. "Stay with me. Not because you're scared or confused or caught up in the situation. Stay because you want to."
"I do want to," she whispers. "That's what scares me. I shouldn't want any of this. But all I want is to stay with you."
"I love you."
The words are out before I can stop them. Before I can think. Before I can do the smart thing and keep my mouth shut.
"What did you just say?"
"I love you." Now that I've said it once, I can't stop.
The words pour out of me like I've been holding them back.
"I've loved you since the first time you smiled at me in that coffee shop.
Since you looked at me like I was a person instead of a threat.
I've been in love with you for months, and I'm done pretending I'm not. "
"Konstantin, we barely—"
"Don't." I cup her face with both hands.
"Don't tell me we barely know each other.
I know you read romance novels on your breaks.
I know you hum when you're concentrating.
I know you tuck your hair behind your left ear when you're nervous.
I know you keep your apartment at seventy-one degrees because you're always cold.
I know you drink chamomile tea before bed and watch baking shows when you're anxious.
" I search her eyes. "I know you, Jemma.
Maybe not everything. But I know enough to know I love you. "
She's crying now. Actually crying. "You can't just fall in love with someone you've been stalking."
"And yet I did."
"That's not how love works!"
"Then tell me what this is." I take her hand, press it against my chest where my heart is racing.
"Tell me what to call this feeling. Because I've never felt it before.
This need to protect you, to make you happy, to keep you close.
This absolute certainty that I would burn down the world if it meant keeping you safe. "
She's staring at me, tears streaming down her face. "That's obsession."
"It's both." I lean down, my mouth close to hers but not quite touching. "It's love and obsession and possession all tangled together. And I'm not sorry for any of it." I close the distance, kissing her softly. When I pull back, she's looking at me with wide, vulnerable eyes. "Say it back."
"I can't."
"Say it. Even if you don't mean it yet. Even if you think I'm insane. Say it."
"I—" She swallows hard, and I can see the war in her eyes. Fear and desire. Logic and emotion. "I love you."
"Again," I demand.
"I love you." Her voice is stronger now, more certain. "I love you and I'm terrified and I don't know what that means but I love you."
I kiss her again, deeper this time. Claiming. When I pull back, we're both breathing hard.
"Thank you," I murmur against her mouth.
"For what?"
"For being brave enough to say it. For being here. For not running when you had every reason to."
"I tried to run. You kidnapped me."
"Best decision I ever made."
She laughs. It’s watery and slightly hysterical. "You're completely insane."
"And you love me anyway."
"Yeah." She wipes her eyes. "I really do. What's wrong with me?"
"Nothing." I pull her into my arms, holding her close. "Absolutely nothing."
We stand there for a long time, just holding each other in the snowy woods while the sun sets and the world goes quiet around us.
Finally, she shivers. "We should probably head back. Your mother will worry."
"Let her worry." But I start walking back anyway, keeping her tucked against my side. "One more thing."
"What?"
I scoop up a handful of snow and shape it quickly.
She sees what I'm doing and her eyes go wide. "Don't you dare—"
I throw the snowball. It hits her shoulder, exploding in a puff of white.
"Konstantin!" She stares at me in shock. Then she grins. "Oh, you're dead."
She bends down, makes her own snowball, and throws it at me. Her aim is terrible—it goes wide by at least two feet.
"Pathetic," I tell her.
"I'm from Vancouver! We don't do snow sports!"
"Clearly."
She makes another one. This time it hits my chest. She does a victory dance that's so cute I want to tackle her into the snow and kiss her senseless.
"Better," I concede.
"I'm a natural!"
I make another snowball. She squeals and runs. I chase her, and we end up in a full snowball fight that devolves into me tackling her into a snowbank and both of us laughing like idiots.
"I'm freezing," she gasps.
"I told you I'd keep you warm."
I pull her up, brush the snow off her coat, and we head back to the house. By the time we reach the back door, we're both soaked and shivering and grinning.
My mother takes one look at us and throws up her hands. "You take her in snow! She is wet! She will catch cold!"
"She's fine, Mama."
"Upstairs! Both of you! Hot shower! NOW!"
We escape upstairs, dripping snow the whole way. In our room, I lock the door and turn to Jemma.
"Shower?" I suggest.
"We're going to be late for dinner."
"I don't care."
I strip her out of her wet clothes, then my own. In the shower, the water is hot and perfect. Steam fills the bathroom as I wash her carefully, taking my time.
I work shampoo through her hair, massaging her scalp. She leans back against me with a contented sigh.
"This is nice," she murmurs.
"What is?"
"Being taken care of. I've been alone for so long. Since my parents died, it's just been me. No one to lean on." She turns in my arms. "You're the first person in years who's made me feel like I matter."
"You do matter. You're everything." I tilt her face up. "I meant it, you know. I love you."
"I know. I love you too. Even though you're an insane criminal who kidnapped me."
"Especially because I'm an insane criminal who kidnapped you."
"Maybe," she says, but she's smiling.
I kiss her under the spray, water streaming over both of us. The kiss turns heated fast. My hands slide down her body, relearning every curve. Cupping her breasts, thumbing her nipples until they're hard peaks.
"Konstantin—"
"I need you," I murmur against her mouth. "Need to be inside you."
"Then take me."
I turn her around, press her hands against the tile wall. "Like this. I want to watch the water run down your beautiful body while I fuck you."
"Yes—"
I slide my cock through her folds, coating myself in her wetness. She's always ready for me. Always wanting. I push inside in one slow thrust, watching myself disappear into her pussy.
"Fuck," I groan. "You feel so good. So perfect."
"Move," she gasps. "Please move."
I start fucking her, slow and deep. The water streams over us as I take her against the shower wall. One hand on her hip, the other reaching around to play with her clit.
"This isn't just fucking anymore," I tell her. "This is making love. Do you feel the difference?"
"Yes," she moans. "I feel it."
"Fucking is about possession. About claiming." I thrust harder. "This is about showing you how much I cherish you. How much I need you. How completely you own me too."
"I own you?"
"Completely." I lean forward, my chest against her back, my mouth by her ear. "You don't think this goes both ways? I'm yours as much as you're mine. Maybe more. Because I've been yours since the moment I saw you."
She's pushing back against me now, meeting my thrusts. "I love you," she gasps.
"I love you too. So fucking much." I work her clit in circles, feeling her getting close. "Come for me, my love."
She comes with a cry, her pussy clamping down on me. I follow right after, burying myself deep and filling her with cum.
We stay like that for a long moment, both shaking. Then I slowly pull out, turn her around, and hold her close under the spray.
When we're clean and dry, I carry her to the bed. She's wrapped in a towel, her hair damp, her skin flushed and glowing.
"We're going to be late," she says, but she's already reaching for me.
"I don't care. Let them wait."
I unwrap the towel slowly, revealing her body inch by inch. Then I lay her back and start kissing my way down. Her neck. Her collarbones. Between her breasts.
"What are you doing?" she asks breathlessly.
"Worshipping you." I take one nipple into my mouth, sucking gently. "Every inch of you."
I work my way lower. Kiss her stomach. The inside of her thighs. Finally, I settle between her legs and lick through her folds.
"Konstantin!" She tries to close her legs but I hold them open.
"Let me taste you. Let me make you come again."
I work her with my tongue, alternating between long licks and focused attention on her clit. She's writhing, her hands fisting in my hair.
"I can't—it's too much—"
"You can. Give me one more."
I slide two fingers inside her, crooking them to hit that perfect spot. My tongue continues its assault on her clit until she's shaking and crying out my name.
When she finally comes down, I kiss my way back up her body and push inside her again.
"I love you," I tell her as I start moving. "I'll never stop loving you."
"I love you too," she gasps, wrapping her legs around my waist.
We move together, slow and deep. Not frantic like that first night. This is intimate. Connected. Real.
When we both come, it's together, her eyes locked on mine.
After, we lie tangled together. I can hear voices downstairs—dinner has probably started without us.
"We really need to go," she murmurs.
"Five more minutes."
"Your mother is going to kill us."
"Worth it."
She laughs and kisses my chest. "Yeah. Definitely worth it."
We eventually drag ourselves out of bed and get dressed. When we head downstairs, the entire family is already seated for dinner.
Everyone stares at us.
"Sorry we're late," Jemma says, blushing.
Dimitri smirks. "I'm sure you were very... busy."
My mother beams. "Is fine! Is fine! You are young! You are in love! Come, sit, eat!"
We sit, and under the table, I take Jemma's hand.
She squeezes back.
And for the first time in my life, I feel completely at peace.
I have her.
She loves me.
Everything else is just details.