Chapter 6 Jemma
Jemma
Christmas Eve morning, I wake up to Konstantin already awake and watching me.
Yesterday in the snow, when he said he loved me, I should have panicked. Should have told him he was insane. Should have reminded him that you can't fall in love with someone you kidnapped.
Instead, I said it back.
Because it's true.
I've fallen in love with a Russian mobster who drugged me in an alley and brought me to his family's Christmas gathering. I'm in love with a man who's been stalking me for eleven months and knows what page I was on in my book during my break.
I'm in love with Konstantin Volkov.
And honestly? I'm starting to be okay with that.
It's Christmas Eve, which means tonight is the big family dinner. Yelena has been cooking for what looks like three days straight. The counters are covered in food—plates of blini, bowls of salad, platters of meat. The smell is incredible.
"Devochka!" Yelena spots me and waves me over. "Come! You help!"
"I'm really bad at cooking," I warn her. “Worse than baking.”
"Is okay! I teach!" She hands me a knife and a cutting board. "You chop vegetables. Simple! Even Kostya can chop vegetables!"
"I heard that, Mama," Konstantin calls from somewhere.
"Is true!"
Anya is already at the counter, rolling dough for something. She gives me a sympathetic smile. "Don't worry. She'll only yell at you a little bit."
"I don't yell! I give helpful suggestions!"
For the next hour, I chop vegetables under Yelena's "helpful suggestions" (which are definitely yelling). But it's... nice. Warm. The kind of family chaos I haven't experienced since my parents died.
Anya and I end up working side by side, and she starts asking questions.
"So. You and Konstantin."
"Yes?"
"How did you really meet?"
I freeze. "What do you mean?"
"I mean Dimitri told me Konstantin showed up three days ago and announced he had a girlfriend. No warning. No mention of dating anyone." She's still rolling dough, not looking at me. "And you look terrified half the time."
My heart is racing. "I'm not terrified."
"I'm not judging." She finally looks at me. "I know what these men are like. Dimitri kidnapped me and blackmailed my father before forcing me to marry him." She says it so calm, like it was a typical first date.
"And you... stayed?"
"I stayed." She smiles. "Because underneath all the possessive alpha male nonsense, he's a good man. He takes care of me. Protects me. Loves me in a way that's terrifying and wonderful all at once."
"That's exactly what Konstantin is like."
"I know. They're cousins." She pauses. "Did he hurt you?"
"No. Never. He would never."
"But he didn't exactly ask permission either."
I look at her. Really look at her. She's not judging. She understands.
"No," I admit. "He didn't ask."
"And now?"
"Now... I don't want to leave."
She nods like this makes perfect sense. "Then don't. Stay. Let him take care of you. Let yourself be loved by a man who will move heaven and earth for you."
“Dimitri and I have been married eight years." She goes back to her dough. "When you know, you know. And Konstantin knows. The question is—do you?"
I think about waking up in his arms. About decorating the Christmas tree. About him saying "I love you" in the snow. About how safe I feel despite everything.
"Yeah," I say quietly. "I know."
Yelena appears between us, carrying a tray of something that smells amazing. "What you girls talking about?"
"Love," Anya says with a smile.
"LOVE! Yes! This is good topic!" Yelena sets down the tray and grabs my hands. "You love my Kostenka, yes?"
"I... yes. I love him."
"GOOD! Because he loves you! So much! Since he sees you in coffee shop, he is different.
Happy. Less grumpy. I tell him, Kostya, you must talk to this girl!
But he is stubborn! Like his father! So I make opportunity!
I tell everyone he brings girlfriend! I know he has someone!
Mother always knows! And I know he will fix problem! He is good boy! Resourceful!"
"Did you know he would kidnap me?"
"Kidnap?" She looks confused. Then understanding dawns. "Ah. He did the taking thing. Like his father did with me."
"I'm sorry, what?"
"His father! When we meet, I say no to date. I am busy! I have job! I have life! So he shows up at my work, tells boss I am done for day, carries me out!" She's smiling at the memory. "I am so angry! But also... is romantic. He knows what he wants. He takes it. This is Volkov way."
"That's literally kidnapping!"
"Is courtship!" She pats my cheek. "You are here, yes? You are happy, yes? You love him, yes?"
"Yes, but—"
"Then is good! Details don't matter! What matters is love!" She goes back to her cooking, humming happily.
Anya is trying not to laugh. "Welcome to the family."
***
The afternoon passes in a blur of cooking and decorating and last-minute preparations. The house is transformed—every surface covered in candles and garland, the tree lit up and beautiful, Christmas music playing softly.
At four o'clock, Yelena declares we need to start getting ready.
"Dinner is at six! You must look beautiful! Go! Shower! Dress! Make yourselves pretty!"
I escape upstairs to find Konstantin already in our room, sitting on the bed in dress pants and an unbuttoned white shirt. He looks up when I walk in.
"How was cooking with my mother?"
"Exhausting. Enlightening. Slightly terrifying."
"That's accurate." He stands, walks over to me. "What did she tell you?"
"That your father kidnapped her too."
He winces. "I was hoping she wouldn't mention that."
"Is it true?"
"Yes. Though in his defense, she was being stubborn about dating him and he ran out of patience." He cups my face. "It's a family trait, apparently."
"Kidnapping women?"
"Knowing what we want and refusing to let anything stand in our way." His thumb brushes my cheek. "Including the women themselves." He kisses me, slow and deep. When he pulls back, I'm breathless.
"Go shower," he murmurs. "I laid out a dress for you." In the closet, there's a dress I've never seen before. Dark green velvet, elegant and beautiful and definitely not from my apartment.
"Konstantin? Where did this come from?"
"I had someone bring it yesterday. Anya helped with sizing."
"You bought me a dress?"
"You needed something for tonight. This one made me think of you."
I hold it up. It's beautiful. Exactly my style.
I shower quickly, do my makeup, and slip into the dress. It fits perfectly. The velvet is soft against my skin, and the color makes my eyes look bright.
When I come out of the closet, Konstantin is fully dressed—black suit, white shirt, no tie. He looks devastating. Powerful. Dangerous.
He turns when he hears me, and his expression goes molten.
"Fuck," he breathes.
"Is it okay?"
"You're perfect." He crosses to me in three strides, his hands immediately going to my waist. "Absolutely fucking perfect. But we have a problem."
"What problem?"
"I need to be inside you. Right now. Before I face my family and pretend to be civilized."
"Konstantin, we don't have time."
"We have fifteen minutes. I can work with that." His hands are already sliding up my thighs, pushing the velvet up. "I need to feel you. Need to remember you're mine before I sit through dinner making small talk."
"Your mother said—"
"My mother can wait." He finds my panties, black lace that matches the dress, and hooks his fingers in them. "Lift."
I shouldn't. We're going to be late. His entire family is downstairs waiting.
But I lift anyway, and he drags my panties down my legs.
"Good girl." He tosses them aside and turns me around, bending me over the dresser. "Watch yourself in the mirror. I want you to see what you look like when I fuck you."
I brace my hands on the dresser, looking at our reflection. Me in the green velvet dress, hiked up around my waist. Him behind me, already working his belt open.
"You look like a fantasy," he says, pulling his cock out. It's already hard, thick and ready. "Like every dark dream I've had for the past year come to life."
He runs the head of his cock through my folds. I'm already wet.
"So ready for me," he murmurs approvingly. "Your body knows what it needs."
"Konstantin, please."
"Please what?"
"Fuck me. We don't have time for teasing."
"We always have time for this." But he's lining himself up, pressing against my entrance. "Watch yourself. I want to see your face when I fill you."
He thrusts inside in one smooth stroke. I cry out, my hands gripping the edge of the dresser.
"Fuck, you feel good," he groans, his hands gripping my hips. "Still so tight. Even after three days of me stretching you out."
He starts with hard, fast thrusts that make my breasts bounce in the dress. I can see everything in the mirror. The way his face contorts with pleasure. The way my own mouth drops open. The absolutely obscene sight of his cock disappearing into me again and again.
"Look at you," he growls. "Taking my cock so well. Your pussy was made for this. Made for me."
I reach between my legs, find my clit. The combination of his cock pounding into me and my fingers working my clit has me climbing fast.
"That's it. Fuck, you're clenching around me. You're close."
"I'm going to—"
"Come. Now. Soak my cock."
I come with a strangled cry, trying to keep quiet even as pleasure crashes through me. He thrusts twice more and then buries himself deep, filling me with another load of cum.
We stand there for a moment, both breathing hard. Then he slowly pulls out. I feel his cum immediately start to leak down my thighs.
"Konstantin, I need to clean up."
"No." His voice is firm. "You're going to dinner with my cum inside you. You're going to sit next to me, smile at my family, and feel me leaking out of you the whole time. And you're going to remember exactly who you belong to."
My face flames.
"Perfect." He stands, adjusts himself, and grabs my panties from the floor. But instead of handing them to me, he pockets them. "You're not wearing these tonight."
"I can't go to dinner without underwear."
"You can. And you will." He fixes my dress, smoothing it down carefully. Checks my hair. "Perfect. You look perfect. No one will know I just fucked you."
"Except you."
"Except me." He kisses me deeply. "And that's all that matters."