Page 37 of Thorns of Lust
KONSTANTIN
Ared mist covered my vision.
My brain cells were burning faster than the breaths I inhaled in an attempt to calm my rage.
I had been watching her. Stalking her. Waiting for the right moment.
A day was coming when she’d find that which belonged to me. What belonged to Marchetti. What belonged to every goddamn criminal on this planet. And that alone put her life in danger. Unfortunately, some fuckers didn’t know the meaning of patience.
Like the goddamn Yakuza.
I had just returned from California. My driver dropped me off in the French Quarter. Then I spotted her. I had two of my most trusted men tailing Tatiana since Adrian’s death. The moment I got out of the car, the men fell back while I walked on foot, following the woman who still seemed to be mourning her late husband.
It had been over six fucking months. It was time she moved on. He wasn’t worthy of her. He was a peasant; she was a queen. He was treacherous; she was loyal.
Fuck, how that irked me. The fucker wasn’t worth the ground she walked on. Definitely not her tears. She deserved better. She deserved the whole goddamn world.
The stars in her eyes were gone. But I vowed the day I left her in that hospital bed that I’d take the stars from the night sky and put them back where they belong. In her eyes. I’d see them in her eyes again if it was the last thing I did in this life.
Completely oblivious to her surroundings and lost in her thoughts, Tatiana sipped from her flask. It wasn’t hard to guess what was in there. I hated that she developed that habit, but that wouldn’t last. Not once I got her where I wanted her - in my home and in my bed.
After all, I’d waited a long time for her. Adrian was a fool and his fuck up was my gain. The moment I learned his true identity, he was a dead man anyhow.
And then the goddamn Yakuza got to her. Dared to touch her. The one I said was off limits. Only I was allowed to torture her, and my kind of torture would produce screams of pleasure, not fear.
They’d knocked out Yan and Yuri, the two bodyguards that always trailed behind her, which left her vulnerable. My own men fell behind, per my instruction, since I intended to watch her myself.
A mistake I wouldn’t repeat.
After I handled the fucker and he laid passed out on the ground, I met Tatiana’s gaze. Her pale blue eyes widened and her breath hitched. She watched me, searching my face and something in her expression had me pausing.
Waiting.
“Are you okay?” I asked her again, worried that asshole hurt her and I came too late.
“Yes,” she croaked, gripping the bunch of her dress. She looked beautiful. Like the Grace Kelly of the twenty-first century. Then as if she realized she sounded too weak, she added. “I had it handled, thank you very much.”
There she is,I thought satisfied. My fearless queen.
Tatiana Nikolaev wasn’t a woman to cower. She was just as stubborn as her brothers and just as impulsive. Her life was one of impetuous decisions and reckless actions. She lived her life to the fullest. As if it was her last day on Earth.
It had to be the reason I couldn’t handle seeing the light leave her eyes. Seeing my mother executed left a mark - on both Maxim and myself. Seeing Tatiana end up the same way would break me. Although I feared if the news of her connection to Adrian’s chip spread, she’d end up like my mother.
Unless I married her before anyone found out.
The most important question was did she work with Adrian, and, if so, how much did she know?
“You better get back to the busy street,” I told her softly. “I’m going to wait for the cops.”
As if. I’d have my men shove this fucker into a van and then I’d teach him a lesson.
She watched me warily and I held my breath. Did she recognize me? For the past seven years, she had been a constant whisper in my mind. When I finally learned her identity, it turned into a downright obsession.
I knew her favorite foods. Her favorite book. Songs. Designers. You name it, I knew it.
She frowned. “Have we met before?”
I let out a sardonic breath, annoyance flaring in my chest. Jesus Christ, this woman! I’d been obsessed with her for years and she didn’t even remember meeting me. That night in the gazebo fueled my obsession, and she had no fucking clue that it was me who was buried deep in her tight pussy as she moaned, begging for me.
