Page 31 of Twisted Fate

“Where you flirted with another woman?—”

“Enough!” His hand smacks against the door next to my head, and I stiffen, suddenly very aware of how close he is to me. I could reach out and touch him, and a part of me wonders what he would do if I grabbed a handful of his shirt, yanked him in, and kissed him the way he should be kissing me.

But Sophia Moretti wouldn’t do that. Valentina Kane would. And right now, I’ve never wished so much that I could just be myself.

Konstantin takes a step back, running a hand through his hair. “Goodnight, Sophia,” he says curtly. “I’ll see you in the morning.”

And with that, he turns on his heel, and walks away.

—

Once again,he avoids me for most of the next day. I spend my morning sunning by the pool and going for a swim, before eating a light lunch and spending my afternoon at the spa again, this time getting a facial and a hot stone massage. It’s relaxing, to be sure, but it doesn’t get me any closer to my goal. And since Konstantin spends most of the day in his room, I can’t even usethe time to do recon on what weapons he might have stashed in there.

The evening finds us at the resort’s main restaurant, a beautiful open-air space with views of the savannah. The setting sun paints the sky in shades of orange and pink, casting a warm glow over everything. Under different circumstances, it might be romantic. In these circumstances, all I can think about is whether or not I’m going to use the poison stashed in my clutch. I’m down to four days after this evening, and I’m running out of time. If I kill Konstantin tonight, that gives Kane plenty of time to extract me before anyone can ask too many questions—and get the body to a mortuary that will give an appropriate report.

I glance up at Konstantin across the table.If he gets up, maybe I’ll do it then.The copper mug sitting by his hand has a fresh drink in it, perfect for slipping the powder into. He won’t even notice if I manage to do it while the drink is still mostly full.

He looks far more handsome than any man has a right to tonight, in a dark blue linen shirt that brings out the color of his eyes, the top button undone to show a hint of the dark blond hair on his chest. A gold chain lies just below his collarbones, setting off the slight tan that he’s gotten in the few days that we’ve been here.

He’s pointedlynotlooking at me. I saw the appreciation in his gaze when I walked out tonight, wearing a dark green silk slip dress that clings to my breasts and hips and shows off most of my legs, along with six-inch stilettos to make them look even longer. But he was quick to tear his gaze away, and he’s barely looked at me since.

Now, he’s nibbling idly at a piece of flatbread, occasionally glancing at his phone as if it’s more interesting than his wife.

I reach for the bottle of expensive white wine chilling in the bucket next to us, glancing over at the view as I refill my glass. We’re seated at a secluded table near the edge of the restaurant,and in the distance I can see two giraffes striding across the grasslands, moving slowly against the darkening backdrop of the sky.

“You’re quiet tonight.” Konstantin glances up at me. I shrug.

“Just enjoying the view.”

He smirks. “The grasslands, or—” He raises an eyebrow, and I roll my eyes at him.

“You’ve made sure I have no reason to bother enjoying this view.” I wave a hand at him delicately. “Why stare at something I can’t take home?”

He snorts. “You’ll be going home with me after this trip is done.”

“You know what I mean. You’re being purposefully obtuse.” I take a sip of my wine, trying not to stare at the copper mug in front of him.Just get up and go to the restroom. Anything. Just give me an opening to get this over with.

It could be easy. I’d pour the powder into his drink, give it a quick stir, he’d come back and drink it. It’s flavorless, impossible to detect. And then?—

Strangely, something in my chest tightens at the thought of what would come after that. Of his throat closing, his airways blocked, the fear in his eyes when he realized what was happening—a death that he couldn’t fight back against or stop in any way. I’ve never once felt so much as an ounce of regret or sympathy for my targets before, but for some reason, I feel a pang at the thought of watching Konstantin die.

It bothers me. The last thing I need is to suddenly become sentimental.

Our main dish arrives a moment later—a pot filled with steaming broth, rice, meat, and spices that waft into the air and make my mouth water, along with another plate of flatbread and bowls for us to spoon our portions into. The waiter sets it downbetween us, and I watch as Konstantin picks up his mug, taking a long gulp of his drink.

I could go to the bathroom myself, I consider. I could get him a fresh drink from the bar on my way back, pretending to be a doting wife, and put the poison in it then, bringing it back to him. It could work?—

I know I’m grasping at straws. But with only four days left here, and no sign of Konstantin being swayed at all by my charms, I’m starting to feel the pressure.

Our waiter moves away, and I start to shift in my chair, reaching for my clutch. But before I get up, a movement in my peripheral vision catches my attention.

A different waiter is approaching our table, his gait slightly off. There's something about the way he's walking—a tension in his shoulders, a deliberateness to his steps—that triggers warning bells in my mind.

And then, as he nears our table, I notice the slight bulge under his jacket. Not a hidden pack of cigarettes for his break or a bottle of wine being snuck away, but a shape I recognize—a shape that I feel sure is a handgun.

My blood runs cold. I don’t have the slightest idea why, but I feel sure of what I’m seeing—that someone else is trying to kill Konstantin.

Fuck.I have seconds to decide what to do. If I let this play out, Konstantin will be dead—but I know Kane. He won’t accept the mission being completed by anyone’s hand but mine. He’ll jump at the chance to say I failed, to say that I haven’t earned the information this mission was meant to give me, and he’ll keep me working for him for another year. Longer, maybe, since I will have failed at this job.

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