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I shrugged, trying to look unbothered. “Oh well, no stone left unturned, and all that. Thanks for the water and everything. I shouldn’t take up any more of your time,” I said, sliding off the stool and gripping my bag to my chest.
Kon watched me, expressionless. “You’re leaving me?”
“I need to get on, and erm, you know…meet someone. I don’t have all night,” I said, cringing inside at the utter horror of the words coming out of my mouth. Kon watched me back away, a look of consternation on his face.
“Nice to meet you, really – it was nice,” I called, and with that, turned tail and dashed toward the dancefloor. God, the ground really never opened up and swallowed you alive when you wanted it to, did it?
CHAPTER4
Konstantin
Iwatched Hana leave, fighting the growing sense of possession and want roaring in my blood. This was karma of some kind, I assumed. I’d fucked up with my sister, and the universe was putting Hana in front of me, so I could understand the error of my ways. Yes, I’d sheltered Kat too much, but she’d had no idea of the kind of enemies I had. She was my only living relative and had to be protected at all costs. I wasn't lying to Hana. I was uncouth, uneducated, brutal, and more beast than man half the time. My body was riddled with scars and tattoos and the evidence of the violent life I’d lived. I’d kept my sister untouched as long as I could, which to me, was the greatest gift I could have given her.
I lost my own innocence at the tender age of twelve when my father’s latest girlfriend had decided to show me the ropes. I could still remember the feeling of hot tears pressed into the pillow. Now, I fucked like an animal; bit and scratched and chewed my way through women who wanted that. Sweetness wasn’t what they came to Konstantin Ivanov for. I obliged because seeing their disappointment was worse than seeing their bruises.
My eyes followed Hana through the crowd. She was out of her depth here. The club was packed with hardened Ivanov men. She had to be watched, to be safe. An angel like that in a place like this wasn’t right. I should have kicked her out, but the thought of her wandering around Brooklyn at this time of night alone worried me too.
But if she was really determined to find a man for tonight, a dark and hot feeling of fury went through me at the idea of it being someone but me. She deserved more than me, but it was too late. She’d let me in, and like the hunter I was, I wouldn’t let her out of my sight.
I followed her through the crowd.
She was standing on the edge of the dancefloor, her hips swaying. There was something about her awkward movements and sweet curiosity that turned me hard as a rock. This woman wanted someone to induct her into the halls of the experienced, and I’d already decided, it would be me.
I touched her back and she jumped. As she turned, I took her heavy bag from her, peering inside. Advanced Equations. My girl was smart. It had already been obvious, but this confirmation made me only more curious about her.
“Come on then. You won't find someone you like in this rabble,” I said, leaning in close to her.
She pulled back, looking at me with blown pupils, her pulse pounding madly in her neck.
“Meaning?”
“Meaning, I’m taking you home, pumpkin,” I told her.
She frowned and shook her head stubbornly. I wanted to suck her pouting lower lip.
“Home to my place,” I clarified. Her expression transformed and a grin came across her face. Fuck, it was like seeing the sunrise for the first time. Something moved in my chest at being on the receiving end of that pure, unsullied joy.
“If you’re sure that you want it to be me,” I added, finding I was holding my breath somehow.
She nodded immediately, without even a second’s hesitation. “I want it to be you,” she said simply.
Fuck, her confident confession knocked the wind out of me a little.
“Then let's get out of here.”
* * *
My apartment satabove the club and felt very similar. Truthfully, it reminded me of the houses of the women my mother would clean for when I was younger in Moscow. Dark brocade wallpaper and rich furnishings decorated the place, polished wooden floors with Persian rugs, and paintings by Ivanovsky dotted the walls in ornate frames. It was a nostalgic way to live, but the past had always been better to me than anything I lived now, so I remained in it.
I wasn’t like the other powerhouses of New York, with their centuries-old mansions, and antiques, designer suits, looking like they walked out of a GQ editorial. For one, I was younger than most of them. The next-gen was coming for the old guard, and I enjoyed the way I made them squirm. Most of all, my tattoos and combat boots, ripped jeans and torn t-shirts made them place me in the wrong box. They underestimated me every single time, and I enjoyed it when they realized their mistake, too late, of course. It was always too late. The Song family would find that out tomorrow. I wasn't planning on hurting the sister, nineteen was too green, and she was a girl to boot. It was very unlikely she’d spilled blood, or deserved to suffer for her brother’s arrogance. I simply wanted the Song boss to swap my sister for his. Katya would be mad as hell at me for the arranged marriage in Moscow, we didn’t exactly communicate well, but, I’d take her wrath, to know she was safe.
Hana looked around my apartment with wide eyes. Her body was delicious, small, and tight in all the right places. She even made sneakers work with a glittering minidress somehow. She had that kind of beauty, the one that women can spend millions on, and never achieve. Effortless grace, evident goodness, and an ability to shine like the fucking sun.
“What do you think?” I wondered, closing the door behind us, and locking it. My men were standing guard, but it was unnecessary, really, seeing as you had to enter the club to get to the door, and there were a whole lot of Ivanov men around.
“It’s beautiful. It feels old-worldly,” she muttered and shot me a glance. “Do you like history?”
I blinked at her, impressed by how perceptive she was.If I had an hobby I enjoyed, it was history.
