Chapter Nine
Alina’s POV
I shouldn’t tremble in front of him.
I repeated the same thing in my head like a mantra with an urgency that was akin to desperation as Konstantin entered the library and started moving towards me. That didn’t mean my body listened.
I should have stepped back or left the library the moment I saw him approach.
But the defiance his look always brought up in me skyrocketed at the thought of him catching on to my slip of tongue a few hours ago.
That was a good explanation for my staying put even as he came closer.
But if I were being honest with myself, it wasn’t the full truth.
I didn’t just remain in my spot because I wanted him to see that I wouldn’t flinch in his presence.
I stayed there instead of moving away because my body wanted to.
I couldn’t find the will to leave or even take a step away from him.
I was furious at myself for allowing him have this effect on me. I hated it.
But what I hated more was that this wasn’t the first time.
It had always been like this. I could count the number of times I’d met him on a single hand, and yet, there was no time I didn’t feel a fragment of something.
Something that I couldn’t exactly describe but was somewhere between confusion and attraction.
Even when he was just near me, I felt it.
I had always refused to acknowledge it with the hope that it would just fade away, like any other thing. I didn’t talk about it (not that Ruslan was the best person to talk to about his boss’s boss), didn’t even think about it in a bid to keep it from becoming real.
But he showed up and, instead of stepping away, I stayed there, letting him invade my personal space.
This man was the one who killed Siroc.
Yet, as he came in, his eyes weren’t those of the monster that killed Siroc. The eyes looking into mine were stormy as usual, but also tired. Like he was warring with a monster that was much bigger than himself. The air of rough confidence that seemed to always surround him was notably absent.
The anger and hatred I felt towards him faded just a little.
When he eventually stopped moving and stood in front of me by the window, I prayed to the powers that be that he didn’t notice the trembling of my body. I scrambled for something to say, anything at all, but it didn’t work.
“You really loved him?” he asked, surprising me with both the coolness of his voice and the randomness of his question. “He was older than you. He was a criminal.”
“I didn’t know what love was back then. Not that I never told him I loved him. I did so many times. But then I said it like a girl to a man who was making her happy. Siroc was the only person in the world who cared about me. And you killed him.”
Something about his expression became even more weary, made me wish I hadn’t said it. I was practically annoyed with myself for going there.
But it’s the truth.
And then I was annoyed about the fact that I felt the tiniest bit of unease about it.
But the silent and steady gaze he gave me instead of a sharp remark softened me inside, and I went on.
“Siroc was five years older than me. I still remember my surprise when he paid me a compliment the first time we met. We were friends, good friends, for a long time. We were nothing more than friends. Then when I was almost nineteen, we became a thing. He always made me feel loved. He was always so attentive, so giving. And it was in his giving that I started to notice when he began spending more than usual. He always said it was just extra pay at work. There was even a time we fought about it. I realized he was involved in shady things, but I didn’t know what exactly. ”
I heaved a sigh before continuing.
“I found out about the extent of it on the afternoon of the warehouse raid. I was furious. I was angry at myself for not forcing him to spill the details to me earlier. But mostly, I was angry at him for not telling me before. I went to the warehouse that evening with the intent of breaking up with him since he had proven to be someone I couldn’t trust,” I explained, my voice dropping to a whisper as I added, “But I didn’t get that chance. He was killed.”
The library was silent again, but there was a shift in Konstantin’s expression.
It was the first time Konstantin and I had spoken like two human beings, not captor and captive. I also realized it was the longest normal conversation I’d ever had with him.
“How about your parents?” he inquired, breaking the silence.
I took my eyes off the window to find him staring at me, apparently waiting for my response.
“My dad and mom died in a car crash when I was 10. The authorities sent me to an orphanage. Life at the orphanage was nothing like I was used to—in fact, it was hell in the beginning because I couldn’t imagine living without my parents—but it was okay.
When I was 16, the superintendent tried to abuse me. So, I ran away.”
Is it just my eyes, or Konstantin’s jaw just clenched?
“I ran into Siroc. He protected me after that.”
I couldn’t bring myself to go further. I was already opening up old wounds too frequently. So I turned to leave.
He caught my wrist. I took in a breath, shocked. His touch was firm enough to stop me but not hard enough to be painful. But it was all shades of uncomfortable because that single contact sent a jolt through me. Then he let go immediately.
“You’re under my protection now.”
I blinked up at him, unable to think of a fitting answer.
“We’ll be going to New York soon.”
I nodded and walked away, out of the library.
Every step I took away from the library increased my urge to turn back.
To say it was upsetting would be an understatement.
But it felt like the little conversation I had with Konstantin only exacerbated the unwanted and totally annoying sliver of whatever-it-was.
Hastening my steps in case my unreliable mind decided to lead me back into the library, I opened the door to my new room and entered.
Only the dim lights were on, and I liked it that way.
The bald man and someone who was clearly one of those under him had led me here earlier in the afternoon, according to Konstantin’s promise.
My things, namely the few clothes Ruslan had helped me fish out, had been moved to the room during the wedding, and I had no idea until I saw them in the wardrobe.
The bald man also informed me of my new freedom to move around the house, but not without a subtle warning to stay on this floor and not wander beyond it.
Shortly after they left me in the room, Ruslan came knocking, and that marked the end of my exploration of the space, from the black-tiled bathroom to the large dresser and wide bed.
I had asked him not to ask about the wedding as I ate the lunch he brought for me.
He suggested showing me around the floor after my meal—and that was how I found the library.
The serene air around the tall shelves of categorically arranged books made the large room feel calm to me.
So calm that I’d informed Ruslan of my intention of staying back at the library for a while longer.
I ended up staying there until night crept up on me.
In hindsight, I should have just stayed in my room.
My fingers swept the edge of the bed, feeling the softness of the white cotton covers as I headed over to the wardrobe on the other side of the bed.
As I changed out of my dress, my mind wandered to how the night would have gone if my groom had been someone else.
But that image didn’t last for two seconds before I was picturing the real groom.
Okay, I’m done!
In the sleeveless white cotton nightgown with a square neckline accented by inset lace, I sat at the edge of the bed. I looked over my shoulder to the window on my right, appreciating how I no longer had to stay in a room with no windows.
I couldn’t stop my mind from drifting again.
The Konstantin I talked with tonight was different from the heartless killer I hated. He was more…ordinary. While I did all the sharing and telling, he seemed and felt open. It made me wonder if there was a different version of him, a more humane version, somewhere inside.
But that was not everything on my mind during and even after our small talk. Our proximity made me realize how handsome his dark brows and chiseled face were. His shirt, which was no longer covered with a suit jacket, gave me a hint of how muscular his arms were.
I shouldn’t be thinking about this.
Shaking my head, I crawled into the bed until I was right at the center. I spread my arms to either side of my body, something I hadn’t been able to do in the former room. If I couldn’t walk the streets freely yet, I could at least enjoy a normal bed.
I’m married.
Aside from my worry about how complicated my situation was, another issue nagged at me. It was worried that the anger and hatred I had towards Konstantin might not displace this unnamed feeling his presence always brought.
I mustn’t let myself get carried away.
But, just as I made the resolve, a voice in my head told me I might not have a choice.
Unsettled, I screwed my eyes shut.
The sound of gunshots became more frequent, danger clear in the atmosphere as people scurried left and right. Walking more rapidly, I got to the front of the warehouse, my eyes landing on the numerous bloodied bodies.
A hand grabbed mine, pulling me away from the crossfire.
“Alina! You have to leave here! Let’s go! I'll protect you!”
But I stayed rooted to my spot, my eyes on the inside of the warehouse like I was looking for something. The person pulled harder, hijacking my attention from the warehouse.
“Let’s go! Now!”
I turned in the direction of the voice. My eyes met his blue ones.
Konstantin Lobanov.
I woke up with a gasp.
What kind of dream was that?
Konstantin pulling me out instead of killing Siroc?
Whoever said dreams lacked substance and were only a figment of our thoughts was damn right. Because the dream I’d just woken up from was such a fucked-up example.
Even as I dismissed the dream, I was angry at my mind for allowing thoughts of him at all.