I feel very much on the outside.
Then, across the length of the plane, I catch sight of Kon. His hair is askew, like he’s been running his hands through it, and his expression is serious as he lowers his phone from his ear.
One of his men approaches, and speaks and I don’t catch the question. Kon nods and replies in Russian, and as the man smiles and thanks him, Kon heaves a sigh, resting his forearms on his knees. Then, as though he feels my regard, he looks up and our eyes meet.
He too, is alone.
“Taylor.” His lips make the word, but I don’t hear it over the buzz of everyone else on the plane.
He crooks his finger, just as he did last night, and he mouths the command, “Come here.”
And all my body can remember is how that first word felt vibrating against my neck in a demand or a plea as he stroked into me with his cock and rubbed my clit, expression all dark hope and savage focus. “Come.”
I go to him as though dancing steps I’ve been practising for years. I weave and slip between the girls I’ve lived and worked with, and Kon’s men who are looking on with amusement and getting involved with the celebrations.
Then finally I’m at Kon’s side. His gaze flits to the seat next to him, an unspoken command, and I sink into it.
I can’t believe we’re sitting here, next to each other, when he’s beeninsideme. We had that heart-pounding night, and there’s an energy between us. Awareness.
I’ve seen this man naked, seen his tattooed body and the scars that curve around the sharp black lines. I’ve felt him come. I’ve been in his power, and he used it gently on me.
It still blows my mind that a man like him even exists.
“Your sisters will be at the airport to meet you,” he says abruptly.
“You said they sent you, so I guess you’ve seen them. How are they?” I attempt to sound unworried, but it’s been a long time. Anything could have happened to them just as it did to me. “Are they…” I grasp for the right question. “Well?”
“Yes.” Kon’s eyes are as liquid blue as the sky outside the window of the plane. My pussy throbs unexpectedly at the memory of the way his pupils expanded when he was inside me, the dark rims all that remained. “When I last saw them, they were both well and happy.”
There’s a reserve in his manner that catches at me.
“But…” I supply.
“They live in London,” he continues, even as his expression says, “You got me.”
I suck in a breath. That’s dangerous. “But they’re cared for?”
He pauses. “Loved.”
“That’s good.” I’m not jealous or confused. At all.
There’s a silence, and I catch snippets of other conversations. Eager excitement about arriving in London.
I, on the other hand, am inexplicably torn in a new direction. When we get to London. I’ll see my sisters. And this man who I’ve shared so much with in just twenty-four hours will disappear. I’m not important in his life like he is in mine.
I guess this feeling of being close to him is like a fan and a celebrity. It’s only a crush, because it’s been so long since anyone has been kind to me.
“And love? You said…” It’s almost a self-destructive urge to know about my sisters’ happiness.
“The eldest?—”
“Hayley,” I supply.
“Is with a man named Maxim Zaitsev.”
My eyebrows raise. Oh no. No no no.
“Russian.” Kon nods slowly. “He’s the kingpin of Greenwich.”
