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Chapter 62 – Constantine
Rosy dawn fingers paintedthe sky in vivid hues as Talia stepped out of the town car and arched her back. “We’re home,” she said with a yawn.
At my insistence, she’d slept for a few hours in one of the Russian’s opulent guest rooms when Black had conference called me with Webber. There was never a moment’s rest for the security guru but it was part of the reason Spyder Security was the best. It had been a late night tracing the assassin’s client. Our best guess was that it was the devil, trying to take me out before I could end his son. With no clear-cut answer as to who hired the bastard, it was our only logical conjecture.
After getting nowhere with the situation, I was tired of being Viktor’s guest. While we toasted our friendship over a glass of chilled vodka that went down smoother than water, I’d made my goodbyes in the last hours of the night. Unfortunately, that meant I’d woken Talia too early, and while she’d been purposely cheerful for me and my cousin’s sakes in the car, her lids were still heavy.
Adrian stalked straight into the house, but I hung back, holding out my hand to my bride. “Let’s change. The priest will be here at eight, and I want to be ready for him.”
“I don’t have anything black to wear.” Talia chewed on her lip.
“Yes, you do,” I muttered. “That black lace thing.”
Talia winced. “Oh, yeah. Right. I hate that dress,” she whispered.
“Why?” I was curious now.
With a shake of her head, Talia said, “I’ll tell you later.” She cut a look down the beach, but the Russian envoy that had taken my sister’s remains and would also dig her grave wasn’t visible from the house. “How much do we owe the Bratva?” she now asked.
“A lot, but we’ll speak of that later.” As worry scrunched her brows, I added softly, “The debt to the Bratva prince doesn’t bother me. In fact, I think we were fast on the way to an unbreakable friendship.”
“Friendship,” Talia mused, the word ending on another yawn.
“Something I believe I’m now capable of,” I murmured roughly, tugging on her hand.
“I think so.” Talia trailed beside me into the villa. The cool gray of morning filled the space with an empty quiet. Neither of us dared to breathe as we climbed the staircase. Talia pulled away at the top of the breezeway, but I gave my head a small shake. I’d ordered the house staff to move Talia’s things before all hell had broken lose. That had been just a few short mornings ago...a lifetime given what had happened.
Not breaking the silence, we entered the master suite. At the closet door, I pulled her into my arms. “I have a lot to apologize for, princess.”
“You don’t, Constantine.” Her vigorous head shake made me pause.
Cupping her face, I tilted her chin up so she looked at me. “I do. You’ve been nothing but humble despite my tempests. I don’t deserve your loyalty, but since I still hold it, I’ll move heaven and earth to retain it.”
Her dark eyes glittered, and that devious little tongue darted out to wet her lips, making me focus on the movement. “Taking your wrath felt like penance. My family’s sins run deep.”
“But they’re not your sins, Talia. That’s what I need your forgiveness for,” I insisted.
“You have it and more. And now it’s my turn to make a confession.” As the words fell from her lips, she pulled away and entered the closet. She pulled a black dress out and took off the protective plastic bag. It was expensive, the material rich. I couldn’t help but notice how her fingers shook. Holding it up, Talia cleared her throat. “Do you know what this is?”
I started to speak but stopped short. Eyes narrowed, I took in the high neck, the lace that would creep up to her throat. The sleeves were long, the length modest. That wasn’t a little black dress for the club. No, it was a statement of mourning.
I knew without a shadow of a doubt how regal my bride would look in it.
“That is what you were going to wear tomyfuneral.” My observation hung between us.
Talia didn’t drop my stare. The word fell as a whisper. “Yes. I wanted something that flaunted my victory when I could look at my father and show him that I was ready to take on the role of heir. Constantine, I want this thing destroyed. It can’t be worn, and I have nothing else black for the funeral.”
“Wear it.” I shocked us both by saying that.
“Really? Isn’t that a bit gruesome?” Talia stammered.
I shook my head. “No, because it will still symbolize your victory, Talia. Iryna’s death isn’t on your hands...but I want to be your prize. A prize you’ve won—with hard fighting, I might add.”
Talia blinked rapidly, but let out a short, harsh breath. “Yes, Constantine. Yes, you’re my prize! Okay, I’ll wear it, but I’m burning the dress after the funeral.”
