Page 33 of Bratva's Innocent Obsession
“I know what you mean,” he replies, low and hoarse. “I fought for everything when I was younger. It all happens too easily now. I have this urge for something to be difficult. To fight rather than be given.”
My breath is stolen by his words. He has a different, but dare I think it—complementary—desire to mine.
“I’m just…” My voice breaks and Kon’s sharp gaze takes in my expression, and then the room around us, and shifts, screening me from sight with his wide shoulders.
“What’s happening, Taylor? Tell me.”
“I…” I swallow down a sob because the way Kon moved to protect me and lowered his voice in earnest enquiry.
It’s still difficult to spit out why this beautiful, joyful event that I’m incredibly lucky to be here for at all, is making me sad.
“I just really want someone to hold me,” I confess, voice barely above a whisper.
Kon’s expression hardens, and my stomach drops as his gaze darts to the side.
I’ve messed this up. No one wants the upset girl snotting on their tux.
“Go out to your right, past the bar.” His voice is low and urgent. “Pretend to be going to the toilet. Go. Now.”
And he says it in such a way that I obey without thought, making a path through the crowd around the bar. Apparently even billionaire mafia bosses enjoy free booze.
I get to the cool of the back corridors, and I’ve paused beside the ladies’ room, unsure what to do, when Kon comes striding towards me from the opposite direction. Then his fingers grasp mine and he spins on his heel, taking me with him. He’s so tall that my arm is at a right angle and his is straight down as we hold hands.
Down one corridor, then the next. He twists a door handle viciously and drags me into the room, and pulls me into his arms as soon as the door is shut silently behind us, as though it’s him that needs this not me.
“Zhizn moya,” he murmurs as I’m enveloped by his body and pushed against the door.
It’s only when I lean into him like a cat that I realise he has cupped the back of my head and is stroking my hair.
I let my eyes close and accept the comfort of his solid warmth. He’s so big and strong and his hand at my waist feels like he’ll never let me go.
“I thought…” The gentle firmness of his touch is so reassuring.
“Tell me,” he says into my hair, and there’s a press on my crown as though he’s kissed the top of my head.
“For years I dreamed about what it would be like to see Hayley and Payton. I imagined we’d be the same as when we were kids, just bigger. It would be the three of us against the world. But they’ve moved on. I’ve been missing for too long, and they’re both getting married and I’m left behind.”
He makes a low rumbling noise in his chest. Sympathy, maybe?
“And I’ve changed too,” I confess in a whisper. A painful confession. “I’m not …”
“You are, you are, zhizn moya.” Kon is holding me tighter, even though he can’t know what I was going to say.
I’m not like them. I’m alone.
I didn’t have my sisters when I needed someone, and now I’m isolated and broken, and I think maybe the only person who understands is a man twice my age, who my new brothers-in-law warned me off, and my sisters are worried will bring back bad memories. A man who even now is probably risking being shot by the groom by being here with me.
Hidden. Secretive. Forbidden. The man who awakened all my sensual desires.
“It’s okay. You’ll find a new relationship with your sisters.”
“I’m the odd one out. I thought it would be enough for me that my friends from the ballet were safe, and I was reunited with Payton and Hayley.” It seems so greedy to want yet more on top of that. A husband. A family. Maybe to teach dancing. Fun in my life and books on my own shelves, rather than raiding my sisters’ collections like a thief.
Kon. Most of all, I think I want Kon.
“Don’t cry,” he says, voice so sad it almost breaks me further open.
I go to say I’m not crying, but the wet on my cheeks as Kon releases my hair and wipes under my eye with his thumb just makes more tears seep out.
