The sun glints off the Mediterranean, casting its golden hues across the water, but I can’t seem to focus on anything other than her. She’s leaning over the side of the boat, her hair whipping in the breeze, and for a moment, I let myself watch her without interruption. She’s beautiful, perfect in every possible way, and all mine.
I don’t approach her immediately, letting the sound of the water crashing against the hull fill the space between us, wanting to hold on to this view of her just a little longer.
When I’ve had my fill, I step up behind her, the soft swish of my shoes on the deck the only sound that follows. Her body jerks when Ie close, like she’s waiting for me to do something, but she doesn’t look back, her eyes locked on the horizon.
“How are you enjoying yourself so far, Mrs. Marinova?” I easily mask the frustration that’s been gnawing at me since before we even flew here.
Something doesn’t sit right. Why did the DeLucas want her dead? What is she to them?
“It’s beautiful here.” She finally nces over her shoulder, forcing a smile that does nothing to erase the obvious stiffness in her body.
I know she knows I’m not my usual self. I haven’t hidden it. Let her wonder. The more nervous she gets, the better chance she slips.
Her eyes flick to me quickly, a tense energy surrounding her like a me. My fingers run up and down her arms before I tug on her hips, spinning her around.
“Tell me something…” I continue to touch her, craving the contact.
“What?” Her mouth jerks into a barely there smile.
“Had you heard of the DeLucas before I mentioned them?” The question hangs in the air while I watch her closely.
Her face remains neutral, though her posture goes rigid almost instantly.
She’s hiding something.
“No. Should I have?” A soft smile spreads, appearing with little effort.
I can’t tell if she’s lying. But I don’t press.
“No. Don’t even worry about it. Probably a mistake.” I lean down, close enough that my breath brushes against her ear. “An associate of theirs mentioned he might have known you. I told him he must’ve been wrong.”
Sheughs, but it doesn’t sound right. It’s too sharp, too high-pitched. “Yeah, I don’t think that name rings any sort of bells. Sorry.”
She throws her arms around me, resting her cheek against my chest, but I know she’s not trying to get close. She’s hiding.
I’ll find out what my little wife is keeping from me, and I promise, there will be a reckoning.
Pushing back a fraction, I motion for one of my men, and he appears, cing a small square velvet box into my hands.
“What’s that?”
“A gift.” When I open it to reveal the thin diamond choker inside, she eyes it curiously, like it’s going to detonate.
Though that would actually be a clever weapon. I may need to look into that.
“Wow. That’s…uh, generous.”
“Anything for my wife. Now turn around. Let’s see how it looks.”
When she does, I gently remove the choker from the box, cing it around her slender neck. She turns to show me, and for a moment, I can’t tear my eyes away. My gaze drifts from the ne to her face, and in this instant, I realize something deep in my chest.
I want this marriage to work, more than anything. I want more with her than I’ve ever had with anyone. For that to happen, she’ll have to trust me, and I’ll have to trust her. Though trust is hard toe by.
But from the way she makes me feel, the way she shifts something deep inside me, I know I don’t have much of a choice.
No matter what happens, I’m not going anywhere.
And neither is she.<hr>
EMILIA
The soft nk of silverware and the murmur of the sea beyond are the only sounds surrounding us. The private terrace juts out from the restaurant like a secret candlelit oasis over the edge of the world.
A breeze kisses my bare shoulders, warm and scented withvender and salt, but all I can think about is earlier, when he asked me about DeLuca. That wasn’t a coincidence. He knew something, and I have to find out what.
My deception is slowly starting to catch up to me, and I haven’te close to finding out if he was involved in Nate’s case or not.
From across the small table, I nce at Konstantin, sitting like sin incarnate in dove gray, his shirt unbuttoned just enough to hint at the body I know too well now. His forearms rest casually on the table, one hand cradling his winess, the other teasing the stem absently as if he’s not entirely focused, but I know better.
He’s always watching. Always calcting.
I smooth my hands down the sleek white silk of my dress, feeling its cool glide against my thighs, trying to ignore how tightly strung my nerves are.
“The view’s amazing,” I say, ncing out at the golden lights twinkling across the French Riviera, the water ck and endless beneath the stars.
He tilts his head, a smirk tugging at the corner of his lips, and it’s as though whatever was making him cold earlier is gone. “My view’s even better.”
My pulse kicks up a beat. Would a man who’s thinking about throwing me into the ocean bementing about how much he likes me?
I almostugh to myself, because of course this man would.
“You look beautiful tonight, Mrs. Marinova.” That familiar warmth spreads through my chest like wildfire.
God, when he’s like this—rxed, flirty—it’s so easy to forget who he is. What he’s capable of. So easy to pretend I’m just a wife out to dinner with her husband. Not a federal agent embedded in a monster’s world. Not the sister of a man whose life hangs in the bnce.
“I’m sorry I’ve been a bit distant today. I’ve had a lot on my mind.”
His confession has me sitting straighter, focusing on every word.
“Is everything okay?”
“It will be.” He reaches for the bottle of wine, pouring himself another ss while I sip on an iced tea. “Once I’ve gotten rid of the problem.”
“The problem?”
Do you mean me? The DeLucas?
My God, I wish I could read his thoughts.
He eyes me for a long moment, forcing the invisible walls around me to tighten.
“The one making everything moreplicated than it should be,” he finally answers.
My stomach twists.
Well, shit. What does that even mean?