Staring down danger over a tea party is a great reminder that life loves throwing curveballs when you’re least prepared. But on the bright side, I think I’m finally sure he’s six-foot five.
I swallow the lump in my throat as those muddy, red eyes penetrated through my very being, sending electricity shooting down my spine.
I could see the way his gaze swept over me even with the man in front of him still speaking to him. It’s like he was weighing my every secret. It’s scary, I want to look away, but I can’t.
As they say, the most dangerous connections are the ones that make your skin crawl in fear and your body to heat in arousal.
“Evangeline . . .”
It’s both disgusting and confusing. I can’t believe he, a total stranger, would be able to make me feel so small under that lethal gaze.
“Evangeline . . .”
My heart hammered wildly. My hands, trembling despite my efforts to keep them steady, clenched into tight fists on the new dress my father paid for. Is he seeing me do that? Does he think I’m afraid of him now?
His gaze was intense, almost predatory and it’s making my skin crawl and tingle at the same time. Who is he, really?
“Evangeline!”
I jolt at the voice just beside my ears and I turn to one of the women who called. “Are you even listening?” The Mayor’s daughter snapped her fingers right in front of me and somehow pulled me out of my hazy state.
I wipe the side of my lips. I know I wouldn’t drool but I really can’t trust my body after what that man did with it with just his gaze.
“I said I’m planning to ask him out.” She smirks at me as though I’d get jealous. Maybe, she’s right. Maybe not.
“Perfect, then go on.” I smile and tried to remind myself what I came here for. “So, where did your father go?” I clasp my hand right in front of me, trying to stay calm. I can feel his gaze on my body. It’s inducing both fear and precum.
“S-scotland . . .” she stammered, still confused.
“Oh, that’s great. Isn’t he like building a casino in Tverskaya?” I asked.
“Yes, I’m going to be one of the shareholders. Twenty percent.” This time, her lips form a crooked smile.
“Any idea about the casino? Who’s going to invest in it? You know, maybe I’ll try to invest as well.” I ask as casually as I can. Taking a soft sip on the tea they’ve brought. What I truly need is a shot of tequila from that hot gaze that’s heating up my entire body.
“The Congressman, the co-founder of Eden, someone from Italy and—wait a fucking minute!” she shakes her head from answering all my questions and glares at me. Shit, did she notice I was prying too much?
“You’re you okay with it? That I’m asking him out?” The Mayor’s daughter grumbled.
Okay, she did not notice. But what the hell? Is she stirring up trouble on purpose?
I shrug, “Why not? Like you said, he’s hot.” I beam and if I could see smoke coming out of their ears and nostrils, I would assume they’re fuming.
Well, I was known to be the best woman in stealing men. That’s just because I need them for info, but it’s not like I have anything to gain from ‘that’ dangerous man.
The women looked at me with wide eyes while the Mayor’s daughter clenched her hands on the table cloth.
My mind drifts back to myself being stuck in that closet. “But I think I hear he’s about to be engaged.” I mutter unconsciously. “Aha!” They all instantly stand up with fingers pointed at me.
“I knew you were jealous! I-I . . . I was just trying to ask someone out and y-you . . . think I’m not that worthy of him, don’t you?!” tears began to collect in the corner of her eyes and my brows furrowed.
“What? I didn’t. I just—” I heard them talking about an engagement while being stuck in his goddamn office.
I can’t say that.
“See? You can’t even come up with evidences! He’s not engaged, he never will and you’re the one stirring up stories to-to—I don’t know—seduce him, maybe!” She screams right in my face. The others instantly stands up to follow her, glaring at me as they console the crying Mayor’s daughter.
Goddamnit, I’m tired of this shit. The heavens hate me, that’s for sure.
“Wait!”
“Just sit the fuck down. They were right about you.” The nicest one among them who came to greet me to my seat earlier glared. Now everyone hates me, yipie!
“O-okay . . .” I push the hair out of my face and glanced at the other table. The strange man, Konstantin Morozov, huh? If you’re the one who’s messing this up for me, I’ll make sure to pay you back with fucking force.
I cannot let my Mom starve.
He raised his brows and the coldness on his face intensified as he crossed his arms on his chest, muscles bulging out of that long sleeves. “Look what you did.” He mouthed and I instantly whip my head away.
What a jerk.
I stood up from the table and called a waiter. “A shot of Tequila, please.” I sighed.
“But it’s a tea party . . .”
“I know. Now, please get me a shot of Tequila.” I mutter. She shifted her shaky glance at me and nodded, albeit confused.
I look back at the bathroom, when will they be back?
A few minutes later, the waitress came back with a teacup in hand. It had the same design as all the cups on the table. “I said a shot of—”
“It has Tequila on it.” She whispered. I nodded, taking the hint, and took a sip.
Time ticked.
And ticked.
Suddenly, I felt dizzy. My senses were shutting down, but I heard the clicking of stilettos heading back from the table. My gaze turned hazy. I could already tell where it was from.
The Tequila was spiked, and it was spiked with hardcore sleeping powder.
I wasn’t an amateur to not tell the difference after being with so many men around me upon my father’s orders. The waitress put something on it. But what’s the reason, why would they—
“Now, now. Stop crying. Drink something-here—” I didn’t hear them coming beside me but they took the cup with the tequila in it for the Mayor’s daughter’s hiccups. Her face was puffy from crying.
“No!” I stood up and instantly shoved the cup away from their hands and it came shattering down the ground.
“What the fuck is wrong with you?!” They all turned to me, more serious this time. I swallowed the lump in my throat. Why is it always me?
I could feel the hot gaze on me turning cold as I look back at the man. He’s disappointed at my actions. “That drink-that drink was . . .” spiked, by your own maids? Is that even believable?
“That drink was what?! We knew we shouldn’t have invited you!”
“That drink was . . . mine.” I mutter. If they want villainess me, then let’s just let them have it.
“Fuck you, Bennington. You’re nothing but a bitch.” She mumbles and tears begin to build up in the corner of my eyes.
I am. I probably am.
“I-I’m sorry . . .” I reached out to them and they all stepped back. The Mayor’s daughter turned around and ran away, “I’m sorry if I’m not good enough then, Eva!” She yelled and wiped her tears while running.
It didn’t take long for her to bump into something, or someone though. With my nauseated state, I still found myself looking up at the intense presence that surrounded our table.
It was him. Konstantin Morozov was making his way towards our table when someone got in his way. Or in other words, the weeping Mayor’s daughter bumped into him.
Shit, shit, shit. I don’t think this will end well. I’m pretty sure this mansion being the Mayor’s will do nothing if he wreaks havoc in here, which I am a hundred percent sure he will.
“I-I am so sorry! Oh God!” She squealed in excitement, yet tried to conceal all this with a cry for pity. However, it didn’t take long before her petty crush turned into her biggest fear when Konstantin Morozov glanced down at her shivering state.
“Get the fuck away from me.” He growls and all four of us, including the business man he was talking to earlier, staying in his seat, silenced.
“W-what?” The Mayor’s daughter stuttered.
Anger was flowing out of him in waves as he advanced towards our table, particularly where I was. His bloody eyes were situated on me and I just know I’m going to die.
Oh my god, Oh my god, Oh my god. I should have asked for another mission from father. I couldn’t have goddamn know he’s going to be here, at a freaking tea party!
Konstantin Morozov pulled something out of his jacket and handed it to the Mayor’s daughter.
“Wipe those tears and bring little daddy here or I’ll be the one bringing his lawyer’s head to Scotland to deliver the message.” He growled, and with shivering hands, the Mayor’s daughter accepted the handkerchief.
My knees instantly buckled in fear. I wonder if she still likes him after hearing him say that?
The question didn’t last long when all of a sudden, those crimson eyes turned to me. My breath came in sharp, uneven gasps as he marched towards me.
“And you-” he leaned over beside my ear. I could smell the expensive cologne wrapped around him as well as the smell of cigarettes, a mix of fear and something more dangerous coiling in my chest.
“You’re going to have to tell me why you were sneaking inside my office closet.” I inhaled a sharp breath at his deep, raspy voice tickling my ear.
Shit, shit, shit. I should go, maybe I’ll try to call my driver and—
“And don’t you know not to run away from predators, sweetheart. We like the hunt, and once I find you, you’re going to be killing yourself just to have a merciful death.”
Oh God, please help.
The car ride feels like getting shoved between a live wire and a ticking time bomb. Leonid’s on my left, fidgeting like he’s got caffeine for blood.Konstantin’s on my right, legs spread, arms crossed, brooding like he’s plotting world domination—or someone’s death. Probably mine.I reach for the window latch just to breathe, because the tension in here is thick enough to bottle and sell as an aphrodisiac to desperate housewives. As I lean slightly, my arm brushes his. Hard. Muscle and heat and everything I shouldn’t be thinking about.His voice comes low. Mocking. Dangerous. “You that desperate to breathe near me, zayka?”I freeze. Of fucking course. Before I can bite out a retort, a lollipop hits his shoulder. Leonid doesn’t even blink. “Stop flirting with her, old man.” I snort so hard I choke on my own spit.Konstantin turns slowly, red eyes narrowing on his brat of a cousin like he’s one sarcastic comment away from putting him up for adoption. “Say that again,” he says.Leonid gr
I should’ve drowned myself in the bathtub the moment the words “trio date” left my mouth.Because now, I’m standing in front of the damn closet, regretting everything about my life, my choices, and most of all, this stupid idea.I mutter curses under my breath as I dig through the mess of silk and lace in my section of the closet, trying to find a dress that doesn’t scream “please choke me with daddy’s money” or “take me hostage.” Something nice. Something normal. Something that’ll make me blend in while being third-wheeled by a bratty child and my emotionally constipated captor-husband.And just when I think I’ll finally get three minutes of peace, I hear his voice.“I need to grab a suit.”Konstantin’s tone is dry. Casual. As if he hasn’t avoided stepping foot in this room for weeks like the fucking plague.I whip around. “You have another goddamn closet. Use that.”He shrugs, already walking in like this is his space. Like he didn’t say on our honeymoon night that he couldn’t stoma
The lounge smells like chlorine and sugar. Leonid’s curled up on the far end of the long cream couch, his stupid tablet on his lap, and for once, he’s not scowling at me like I just kicked his puppy. I sit on the opposite end, legs tucked under me, a little awkward.The sun from the giant glass doors spills across the marble floor and catches in his dark hair. We’ve been here the entire afternoon. God, the things I do for this kid already. He keeps pretending he’s not looking at me. But he is. Every few seconds, his eyes flick up from his screen and shoot me a weird little glare that isn’t really a glare.“What?” I mutter, quirking a brow. His lips purse.“You don’t sit like a normal adult.”Okay. That’s . . . new.“Sorry,” I say with a snort, stretching one leg out and resting my arm over the back of the couch. “Is there a formal seating posture you’re expecting from your soon-to-be pool buddy?”Leonid’s head jerks up. “I didn’t say you could swim with me.”“You didn’t not say it,” I
I’m in Konstantin’s office in a heartbeat. I don’t know why I did that. Maybe I just wanna know why. Fuck, what do I even came here for? I slam his fucking desk. Papers, folders, a pen cup—everything jumps.“Was it because of the allergy?” I snap, eyes drilling into the back of Konstantin’s head as he types something on his laptop though I didn’t just barge in like a lunatic. “The reason you told me to ‘get the fuck away’? Was it because Irene’s skin condition is contagious?”He doesn’t flinch. Not even a twitch. He just closes the damn laptop with a slow, deliberate motion that pisses me off more than if he had just screamed at me. Then, he leans back in his chair, fingers steepled, and looks at me as though I’m a fucking puzzle he already knows how to solve. His lips twitch into a smirk.“Why? Did that get you wet, kotyonok?” His red eyes trail down slowly, unapologetically. “Knowing I was protecting your delicate little skin?”I blink. Blink. What the actual fuck? I mean, I stormed
The hallway’s silent when I pass through it. Not that it’s unusual—this place is built like a fucking mausoleum, all polished floors and pristine chandeliers, so quiet you can hear your own regrets echo off the goddamn marble.I don’t bother going back to the office tonight. Carlos didn’t say anything, but I know he’s starting to notice how often I work overtime. It's not as though I enjoy swimming in spreadsheets for fun, but . . . it’s easier than going back to a cold room where a certain red-eyed psychopath sometimes sleeps.I head straight to our bedroom. I use that word lightly. It's more his territory than mine, like a cage I’m allowed to dress pretty in. He’s not there. Of course he’s not.I stare at the empty side of the bed—the one I don’t touch, don’t breathe near, don’t even let the blankets wrinkle toward. Still perfectly made, as no one even exists on that side. He’s probably still with her. Irene.My throat tightens. It shouldn’t sting. Not after everything. Not after th
I don’t like kitchens. Not because I can’t cook—hell, I probably cook better than all these trust fund brats who think butter is a seasoning—but because kitchens remind me of nights sneaking scraps into my room like a goddamn rat. Because no one was allowed to feed the Bennington princess. Not unless Father wanted something.And right now, standing in front of a marble counter with Irene’s syrupy little fake smile three feet to my left, I am very aware of two things: Number one, I’m going to win this stupid, passive-aggressive competition. Number two, I’m going to enjoy every second of it.Leonid’s voice screeches from the dining room like an air raid siren. “I want sweet and spicy! Like last time!”Jesus. Someone get the kid a lollipop and a muzzle.“Of course,” Irene chirps, brushing a curl behind her ear as if she’s on a baking show instead of orchestrating low-key psychological warfare. “He just loves a sweet glaze with a little kick.”I hum. “I’m sure he does.”My knife slices th
This is my lunch. The banana is halfway to my mouth when I pause. I don’t know why I chose this. Maybe because it’s easy, or because it won’t sit heavy in my stomach and remind me that I’m not supposed to eat like a normal person. Whatever the reason, I unpeel it absently, my fingers moving on autopilot as my thoughts drift back to the letter I left for my father. Sarcastic. Spiteful. A big middle finger in perfectly inked calligraphy. A smile tugs at the corner of my lips as I slide the banana between them, sinking my teeth in. The taste is dull, bland, but at least it isn’t dry like the toast I forced myself to eat yesterday.I suck the fruit into my mouth, rolling my tongue over the tip as I chew slowly. Maybe I should have added a postscript. Something like: By the way, Father, go fuck yourself. I chuckle but it is cut off when a sharp throat clearing behind me slices through my thoughts. I freeze, mid-chew, eyes widening as a heat prickles up my spine. Oh, for fuck’s sake. I alr
I jolt upright the second I hear his voice. “So this is where you went.”Fuck. Konstantin stands at the doorway, arms crossed, sharp eyes cutting through the dim room like a goddamn scalpel. His tone is flat, unimpressed—but the tension rolling off him? Not so subtle.Next to me, Leonid stirs, groaning as he turns over in his sleep. His tiny hand is still clutching my dress tight. My body stiffens. If he wakes up like this, he's going to throw a fit big enough to shake the damn mansion.I glance at Konstantin, whose expression flickers with something unreadable before settling on annoyance. Of course. With a lazy tilt of his head, his red eyes sweep over me, then down to the brat attached to my dress like a leech. The corner of his mouth twitches. "Tsk."Then, in that deep, infuriatingly smooth voice, he mutters, “Get up, you little shit.”My head snaps toward him so fast I nearly dislocate something. “What the fuck is wrong with you?” I hiss, reaching over to shake Leonid awake as ge
I sit there, silent, forcing the soup down my throat as the entire table practically sings Irene’s praises like she’s the second coming of Christ. I really shouldn't expect anything from this household.Leonid, who has spent the entire meal kicking the table leg and slurping obnoxiously on his soup, gasps dramatically. “I told you! I told you Irene is the smartest! She’s like the best at everything. You’re just jealous, aren’t you, Evangeline?”I slowly place my fork down, my lips curving into something dangerously close to a smile. Not the pleasant kind. More like the kind a person wears when they’re watching a house burn with their enemy still inside. Jealous? I should be. I should feel something. But I don’t.I have long since accepted that my ideas, my efforts, my existence will never be credited to me. Irene will always be the saint. The intelligent, graceful, kind-hearted woman that everyone adores. And me? I’m the scandalous wife. The walking embarrassment.Konstantin says noth