The night is silent. The kind of silence that feels heavy, pressing against the walls of my home.


    I lie in bed, the soft hum of the fan the only sound. Sleep has been elusivetely, my mind a whirlwind of ns and fears. Tonight, however, exhaustion finally ims me, and I drift off.


    But good things neverst.


    A sudden noise jolts me awake.


    The hairs on the back of my neck prickle with unease as I try to listen for the sound again. It was low, a creak of some kind. Hell, it could be the floorboards. The house is pretty old. Still, my hand slides beneath the pillow, fingers wrapping tight around the grip of my gun.


    The bedroom is swallowed in darkness. No moonlight. No streemps outside. Just a void closing in from all sides.


    But as my eyesight adjusts, I swear I see something.


    A shape in the far left corner of the room. Broad. Motionless.


    My thumb clicks the bedsidemp on. The warm glow floods the space, and I nearly drop the gun.


    Konstantin Marinov is seated in the leather armchair like he owns the ce. ck dress pants, ck loafers, the top few buttons of his shirt undone like he’s just stepped out of a boardroom. Except it’s midnight, ording to the clock on my wall.


    His eyes are calm. Patient. Hungry. But it’s the ck leather gloves on his hands that send a fresh spike of fear through me. Because gloves mean no fingerprints. And if he’s here to kill me, he wouldn’t want to leave evidence behind.


    I steady my voice, gun still in hand. “What the hell are you doing here?”


    His mouth curves into that signature smirk, the one that makes my nipples pebble beneath my thin white tank top—and God help me, I make no move to hide it.


    “I apologize for startling you, Ms. Monroe,” he drawls, words thick with dark amusement. “I only came to make sure you’re alright. The DeLucas—the ones behind the hotel incident—are still out there. And I’d hate to lose such a…valuable employee.”


    “I’m alive. You can go now.”


    Please get the fuck out of here because you make me suffocate.


    “I think what you meant to say is, ‘Thank you, sir, for watching over me.’”


    That’s definitely not what I meant.


    He rises slowly, like a panther about to pounce. “And you’re wee, by the way.”


    Presumptuous asshole.


    “As you can clearly see, I’m fine, so you can leave. Breaking into my home in the middle of the night isn’t just inappropriate. It’s insane.”


    “Are we back to pretending the other night never happened?”


    The closer he gets, the heavier the thud of his footfalls bes, and the more I contemte whether shooting him between his eyes right now would be all that bad.


    “The other night was a mistake. A one-time mistake. That’s all.”


    “Mm.” He settles beside me, removing one of his gloves with slow precision. “No, malen’kaya. That was just the beginning.”


    Reaching out, his fingers brush a few strands of hair from my face. The gentleness is terrifying and alluring all at once. It’s what makes him so much more dangerous. Powerful.


    How can he so easily be both monster and man in the span of a breath?


    “Look, you need to go,” I whisper, but the wordsck conviction, thin and useless against the tension crackling between us. “I need sleep. Okay?”


    But he makes no attempts to move, fingers lingering on my skin, dragging heat through every nerve, making my stomach twist and my pulse thrum like a warning I’m too tired to fight. All I want is to close my eyes and give in, to stop resisting this dangerous pull between us.


    But I can’t afford that. Not with him. Not when everything I am is built on keeping him out.


    And the more he touches me, the harder it bes to fight whatever this is.


    “I’m sorry, but I’m afraid I can’t do that,” he says. “Your safety is not negotiable.”


    “I can take care of myself. In case you forgot, I took care of you too.”


    His stormyughter rattles through the walls. “I will admit, you can handle yourself with a weapon.” His hand slides to my jaw, and my breath stutters. “But luck runs out. Next time, you could be outnumbered. And I won’t risk that.” His fingers tighten just slightly, eyes searing into mine. “Not with you.”


    Not with me?


    The words resonate, sharp and disorienting.


    Why?


    His gaze dips to my mouth like he wants more of what he’s already tasted. My skin hums, alive with anticipation, every inch of me pulled taut with desire.


    “Why do you even care what happens to me?” The question slips out, barely a breath.


    A slow smirk curves his lips, equal parts threatening and devastating. “Now, that’s the million-dor question.” His thumb glides across my lower lip, sending a tremor down my spine. “I don’t have an answer. All I know is you’re the only brand of poison I want bleeding through my veins.”


    He leans in, so close I can taste his breath, mintced and maddening.


    “And when I want something, I grip it with a tight fist until it’s either mine or dead.”


    “You’re such a romantic,” I whisper, even as my body begs me to stop pretending I don’t want to be his.


    A flicker of amusement shes in his gaze. “That’s what they tell me. Now be a good girl for me and go get dressed.”


    I jerk back, eyes turning to slits. “I’m sorry, what?”


    The trace of yfulness in his expression vanishes, reced by something colder. Sharper. Deadly.


    “I suppose I should rify what’s about to happen.”


    My spine straightens, every nerve sparking to life. “What are you talking about?”


    “There’s only one way to guarantee your safety.”


    “And that is?”


    “You move in with me.”


    Iugh, harsh and disbelieving. “Yeah, no. I’m fine right here. If you’re feeling protective, get me a bodyguard. Hell, post a sniper outside my window if it helps you sleep, but I’m not moving in with you.”


    The back of his hand glides down my cheek. “It seems you’re under the impression this is a negotiation.” His tone hardens. “At no point did I offer you a choice, Ms. Monroe. Now get dressed before I decide to do it for you.”


    “You’re fucking insane!”


    “Yes, and?” His eyes gleam with zero remorse. “Would you rather I not care? Leave you here to die? The DeLucas have a bounty on your head. Do you think I have no conscience?”


    I scoff. “Do you really want me to answer that?”


    On top of everything else I’m dealing with, I now have the DeLucas to worry about? Great…


    Konstantin, of course, is too calm about it all. Like dragging me out of my bed in the middle of the night is perfectly rational. I guess for him, it is.


    He exhales slowly, like I’m the one being unreasonable. “In case you’ve forgotten, my men were murdered while we slept. I won’t let you be next. You saved my life, Tessa. This is how I repay you.”


    I clench my jaw. “I never asked you to, so consider us even. You don’t owe me anything.”


    His smile widens, slow and dark, like I’m some unruly pet refusing to heel. The arrogance radiating off him could suffocate a room.


    “Go put on some clothes,” he goes on. “We’re going home.”


    I bristle. “I am home. You are trespassing.”


    His features spiral with cold fury. “Get dressed. Now.”


    I cross my arms, blood boiling, my chest tight with anger and something else I don’t want to name.


    “No.” I refuse to waver. “Leave.”


    For a heartbeat, silence stretches between us like a loaded gun. I can feel it—the moment the tension shifts.


    What is he going to do? Grab me? Force me?


    I hate him. I hate that a piece of me wants him to do it. Wants the control, the fire, the possession that only Konstantin knows how to deliver.


    But that’s the problem, isn’t it? He’s not just dangerous to the people chasing me. He’s dangerous to me.


    Because if I’m not careful, I might stop resisting. I might start letting him win.


    He mutters something low and sharp in Russian, too fast for me to catch, before stalking straight to my dresser like this is his home, not mine.


    My stomach knots.


    Yanking open the top drawer, he pulls out a pair of ck leggings and a cotton tank top.


    I freeze. “How the hell did you know where those were?”


    He doesn’t answer.


    My blood turns cold.


    Shit.


    He’s been here before.


    When? How many times? Was I asleep? Has he touched my things? Watched me?


    He could’ve nted a bug. A camera.


    A shiver rips down my spine, but I shove it down. I sweep for bugs every night. I scrub every inch of this ce. I would’ve found something.


    Wouldn’t I?


    Still, I can’t be sure anymore. I have to be careful from now on. That is, if I evere back to this ce. God knows I’ll probably end up dead in his mansion. Probably fed to the pigs I’ll never get to meet.


    When he tosses the clothes into myp, waiting for me to strip, a bitterugh escapes me.


    “Turn the hell around, Marinov, and stay like that until I tell you otherwise.”


    His gaze dips to my mouth and lingers. That arrogant smirk tugs at the corner of his lips as he towers over me, like temptation in human form.


    “I like it when you’re bossy,” he murmurs.


    A pulse of need tightens in my core, unwee and infuriating. God, I hate that he can do this to me. That my body reacts even while my mind screams danger.


    I roll my eyes, and he finally turns around, giving me his back. But even facing away, he radiates control.


    Still, this…this is good. It might look like I lost this round, like I gave in, but this is the opening I’ve been waiting for.


    What if he didn’t do it?


    The thought hits like a tsunami, mming into me with no warning or mercy. My fingers freeze against the hem of my shirt.


    What if you’re wrong?


    No. That’s not possible.


    Is it?


    I squeeze my eyes shut, chasing away the doubt sinking its ws into my gut. I can’t afford to believe in that. I can’t afford to believe in him.


    Not when Konstantin Marinov is the monster I’ve built this entire mission around.


    But monsters aren’t supposed to kiss like he does. And they’re definitely not supposed to make you feel like maybe, just maybe, you’re not alone in the dark.


    “You can look now.”


    He turns, eyes gleaming with satisfaction, then casually pulls out his phone, types something, and slips it back into his pocket like this is just another day for him.


    Not even a full minuteter, two of his men walk into my bedroom, rolling in a ck suitcase like they’re bellboys at some luxury hotel.


    My mouth drops open. “Are you kidding me?”


    One of them heads toward my dresser.


    “Don’t touch my underwear,” I snap, ring.


    Konstantin smirks, utterly unfazed. “Don’t worry, malyshka. I’ll handle that personally.”


    “This is insane,” I mutter under my breath.


    “This is good,” he corrects with a wicked grin, pulling open the top drawer.


    Without shame, he begins cing my bras and panties into the zippered pocket of the suitcase, as if it’s the most natural thing in the world, while his men head for the bathroom, carrying a duffle.


    My face burns, but I refuse to give him the satisfaction of seeing me flustered. Still, the way he handles my most personal items, like he already owns every inch of me, sends a twist of desire and dread curling in my stomach.


    The men return from the bathroom and give Konstantin a nod.


    He extends his hand to me, and I just stare at it for a second, like maybe if I blink hard enough, I’ll wake up and this will all be some bizarre fever dream.


    But it’s not.


    With a resigned sigh, I ce my hand in his, and he leads me out of the house.


    As I lock the door behind us, something cold and final sinks in my chest. My nerves tighten with every step down the stairs, each echo of our footfalls slicing through the quiet of the night.


    And when I spot the ck Rolls-Royce SUV waiting at the curb, it hits me.


    I’m not just leaving my house. I’m leaving my life.


    And walking straight into the belly of the beast.


    Konstantin opens the passenger door, but before I can climb in, he steps in behind me, his body pressing against mine. He nts his hands on the roof of the car, caging me in, heat radiating from him like fire, licking at my skin and curling into my spine.


    Then his mouth—God, his mouth—dips low to the shell of my ear, his breath fiery and deliberate. “I haven’t been able to stop thinking about you.”


    My eyes close, soaking in the moment like it’s the only thing I’ve ever wanted to hear.


    He waits, like he wants me to say it back. Like he needs me to.


    But I won’t. Even if it’s the truth.


    “It’s alright, Ms. Monroe. One of these days, you’ll reciprocate.” His lips graze the crook of my neck, and I almost groan in pleasure.


    “Don’t hold your breath,” I whisper, letting my head fall back against the hard ne of his chest. “You might be waiting a while.”


    Heughs, a low, dark sound that feels like sin itself. “You’ll find out soon enough that I’m a very patient man.”


    And somehow, that scares me more than anything else.


    His fingers trail along my hip, dipping lower, until they press between my thighs, right where I’m already throbbing for him. One thick finger drags upward, rolling over my clit through my pants with expert precision, like he already knows my body better than I do.


    “Ty moi ray i moi ad.” Every syble is rough and revering.


    He rubs me with maddening control, his pressure devastating me, and I nearly cry out. But before the sound can tear from my throat, he pulls back and opens the car door all the way, like he didn’t just unravel me with one hand.


    He helps me in, his touch now infuriatingly polite, the ghost of his fingers still burning against me.


    I try to gather myself, to reim some scrap of dignity, but it’s useless. My body has already sold itself to the darkness.


    And the worst part? I’m not sure I want it back.<hr>


    Less than an hourter, we reach his estate, an endless stretch ofnd extending in every direction, wild and empty. The car glides down a long, doublened road nked by towering trees that shield whatever’s lurking beyond their shadows.


    When we reach a sharp curve, the path opens to a towering iron gate. Two guards stand on either side, rifles slung over their shoulders like an unspoken warning. They don’t hesitate when they see him. Just a nod, and the gate swings open.


    We roll forward again, deeper into his world, until the trees give way to a mansion sorge it looks more like apound. It spreads across thend like it owns it.


    I don’t know why anyone needs that much space. But I guess I’m about to find out.


    He definitely has a taste for grandeur. Towering white columns sculpted into angels nk the entrance, their stone eyes casting judgment even in the dark. Two of Konstantin’s men stand guard at the front, their postures rigid despite thete hour.


    It’s just past two in the morning when we pull into the circr drive, headlights washing over a collection of colorful sports cars already parked outside. Of course he has an entire fleet.


    He steps out and rounds the car, opening my door like we’re on a date and not whatever twisted arrangement this is. Ever the gentleman.


    “Wee home, Ms. Monroe,” he says, offering his hand. “I hope it’s to your liking.”


    I take it, ignoring the way his touch sends a shiver up my arm. “It’ll do.”


    He chuckles low, and we start toward the massive doors.


    One thing’s painfully clear: if I’m supposed to uncover something in this fortress, I’m going to need more than a n. I’m going to need a miracle.


    The moment we step inside, I notice the lights are on. Every single one. Which is strange, considering the hour. I assume he has staff, but shouldn’t they be asleep by now?


    We move through the grand entry into a sprawling den, the gleam of a chandelier spilling light across the polished floors. And that’s when I see them.


    Three men are already there. Two of them are dressed in ck from head to toe. Clean-shaven, broad-shouldered, sharp-eyed. They look a lot like Konstantin. Same height. Same imposing, dangerous aura.


    But it’s the third man who makes my breath hitch. He rises slowly from one of the velvet chairs. Older, shorter, kind-looking…and unmistakably wearing a priest’s cor.


    What the hell is a priest doing here?


    My instincts scream that something isn’t right. Every part of me itches to turn and bolt. But I already know there’s nowhere to go.


    “What’s going on? Why is there a priest in your den? Who are those guys?”


    No one answers.


    Then Konstantin takes a step forward. A step closer to the end of my life as I know it.


    Because he’s either gonna kill me…or much worse.


    “They’re witnesses,” he says casually, like we’re talking about a birthday party.


    “Witnesses to what?”


    His smirk widens, dark and predatory. “Our wedding.”


    The words hit like a fist to my chest.


    I stumble back, pulse roaring in my ears. “You’re out of your goddamn mind!”


    “There’s no need for dramatics, Ms. Monroe.” His tone is maddeningly calm, while I’m anything but. “This is the only way I can ensure your safety. As my wife, you’ll be untouchable.”


    “This is insane! You can’t do this.”


    “Why not?” He stalks forward, eyes burning withmand. In one swift move, he grips my chin, forcing my face up to his. “Who’s going to stop me?”


    “I don’t want a husband,” I grit out. “Especially not one like you.”


    His gaze res at that, something vicious twisting in his expression.


    “You could do worse.” His thumb glides ever so slowly over my mouth. “And let’s be honest…you’ve already had worse.”


    His arm wraps around my waist, dragging me flush to his chest. I feel every hard line of him, every ounce of power.


    “So let me tell you how this is going to go. Father Pasha will marry us. And my cousins, Maksim and Dmitri, will serve as witnesses.”


    Konstantin’s grip tightens.


    “You will stand beside me and say yes. Because if you try to run, you won’t get far. And if you disobey…” He leans in, mouth brushing the shell of my ear, words dropping to a deadly whisper. “I’ll chain you to me like my favorite essory, so tight you’ll forget what freedom ever felt like. You choose, Tessa.”


    His words echo like a gunshot in my skull. This isn’t protection. This is ownership.


    But as I look around—at the priest calmly flipping pages in his Bible, at the two cousins watching like this is their Friday night entertainment, at the guards posted like gargoyles, I realize…


    There’s no way out.


    My fingers twitch at my sides. My stomach flips.


    Think, Tessa. Think.


    I could scream. I could make this difficult. But what would that get me? A tighter leash?


    Or worse, him deciding I’m too much trouble to keep breathing.


    I swallow while my heart won’t stop hammering.


    But the truth punches through the chaos: this might be the best move I have.


    If I’m his wife, I’ll have more ess. I can use that.


    Even if it means selling a piece of my soul in the process.


    Fine. You want to drag me into this hell? I’ll walk in smiling and burn you from the inside out.


    “You’re an absolute psycho. How the hell do you think forcing me into this is how you protect me? What world do you live in?”


    “Are you really asking me that?” His knuckles roll down my cheek, and I almost wonder what kind of husband he would be.


    A savage in the bedroom and a saint outside of it? At least to the woman he loves.


    Except he doesn’t love you. Sure, maybe he cares, but you’d be as good as dead once he learns who you are, so enjoy this marital bliss while you can.


    “This is what I want,” he says, voice low and final. “And whether you admit it or not…a part of you wants it too.”


    “No, I don’t.” My re narrows.


    He steps closer, crowding my space, dark eyes burning with ruthless certainty. “It doesn’t matter. This is happening, because I need to keep you safe. And I’ll do it with or without your permission.”


    “You’re an asshole even when you’re trying to be chivalrous. You know that, right?”


    “You’ll soon learn it’s all part of my charm, Mrs. Marinova.”


    Why did that just sound so good?


    Oh my God. Fiona and Gerardo are gonna lose their shit once I tell them about this.


    I nce over at the priest and his cousins as they discreetly move to the far end of the room, giving us space.


    “Will you grant me a divorce once the DeLucas are dealt with?”


    “Sure,” he replies smoothly. “Unless, of course, you find yourself enjoying this marriage.”


    Iugh, sharp and bitter. “Yeah, that’s never going to happen.”


    He tsks under his breath, a yful but dangerous glint in his eyes. “Such little faith.” His thumb lightly traces my chin, and without warning, his mouth hovers closer. “I could be a very good husband, you know.”


    His lips brush against mine, and the world tilts, thest of my resistance slipping away. My hands instinctively find his biceps, solid and frustratingly addictive. I want to rip his shirt off and climb him like a tree…which would be bad, considering I suck at climbing and would probably fall t on my ass.


    Still, I bet he’d catch me and tuck me against his broad chest…


    Focus, Emilia. Jesus.


    “How is this marriage going to work?” I push off of him. “If you think you’re going to have me followed or chauffeured around like some rich bitch, think again.”


    Heughs. “Fine. Please, wife, enlighten me on what you’d like this marriage to look like.”


    The moment he calls me “wife,” it hits me like a physical force. My heart skips a beat, a rush of heat flooding my body.


    It’s just a word, but the way he says it, so possessively…it sets something in motion inside me. Something I’m not sure I’m ready to confront.


    “I don’t want to be followed.”


    “That’s fine.” He shrugs.


    “Really?” This can’t be that easy.


    “Yes. There are other ways.”


    Here we go…


    “What other ways?”


    “I can always put a GPS in you.”


    “I’m sorry, what?”


    “How else can I keep you safe?” He gathers my hand in his and kisses the top of it.


    “This is insane.”


    “You keep saying that. But it doesn’t have to be bad for you. All your life, you didn’t have anyone protecting you, not really. I know you’vee to depend on yourself, and that’s important. But now you have me. You have a whole family who would die for you. Don’t you want that?”


    Yes…


    He makes it all sound like a fairy tale, like he’d give me the family I’ve always wanted to have, but we know that fairy tales are all a lie.


    “None of this is real. Once you’ve taken care of my death threat, I’ll just be your assistant again. I don’t mean anything to you.”


    A crooked smile spreads on his face. “You underestimate the power you have over me.” He kisses the tips of my fingers, and that sweet gesture, those words, send a shudder through me. “You’ll have everything you could ever want. Just behave, and the rest will go smoothly. And imagine how fun it will be when I’ll get to enjoy seeing you at work, then every night in my bed.”


    His bed…


    God, there’s no way in hell I’ll ever be able to resist him.


    “I’m still working for you?”


    “Of course. You’ll have some time off to adjust to your new life, but there’s no one better than you.”


    I stare into the eyes of the monster I can’t escape.


    This is a nightmare. But I have to y along. For Nate. Let Konstantin think he owns me. Because the truth is, the closer he pulls me in, the more power I have to destroy him.


    Yet the more power he has to destroy me too.