Page 86 of Konstantin
“Good girl,” I whisper.
She grits her teeth. Her defiance is so beautiful.
When it’s time for the rings, my cousin passes me a box, and I slide the engagement ring first, a large five-carat round stone. She stares at it, the glistening diamond no comparison to the beauty of her eyes.
“This is…nice.” She glances up at me, and my smirk curls as I slowly slip the platinum band onto her finger, covered in diamonds.
This doesn’t have to be pretend.
Her hand trembles slightly, but she doesn’t pull away, her eyes wild and searching as she stares up at me.
“By the power vested in me by the Orthodox Church and the laws that govern our people…” the priest says. “I now pronounce you husband and wife.”
There’s a beat of silence.
Then he adds, “You may kiss the bride.”
I don’t hesitate.
My hand wraps around the back of her neck, fingers threading into her hair as I drag her mouth to mine. The kiss is brutal, possessive. An unspoken vow sealed in hunger and fire.
I kiss her like I own her soul, like every breath she’s ever taken has led her here, to this moment. Tome.
Her lips soften beneath mine, and for the briefest second, I sense her surrender.
I pull back just enough to see the wreckage I’ve left behind. Her lips are swollen, stained a deeper red, pupils dilated with confusion, rage, and something darker. Something that mirrors the chaos I feel every time I look at her.
This isn’t just the beginning of her end. It’s the start of a war.
And I’ll fight to keep her. No matter the consequences.
EMILIA
I don’t remember walking out of the den. One second, I’m standing beneath that chandelier with a priest declaring me married, and the next, I’m moving through the halls like a ghost in my own life.
Mrs. Marinova.
The name sits in my gut like a stone I can’t swallow.
But now I’m his—at least until I can break free.
Konstantin walks beside me, a slow, confident stride as though he’s leading me to the life he’s already planned. His hand rests lightly at the small of my back, a reminder of how much power he has over me.
“You’ll get a tour tomorrow,” he says, as if we’ve just moved into our first home instead of me having been forced into this marriage. “I’ll introduce you to my staff. Show you the grounds. And you’re free to go wherever you like on the estate, of course. Unless I tell you otherwise.”
“And why would you do that?”
His eyes cut to me, a faint smirk pulling at his mouth. “Sometimes there are…things you don’t want to see. People you don’t want to hear scream.”
Of course. As if I could forget about my new husband’s murderous escapades.
Once we reach the master bedroom, he lets me inside, revealing a massive, black-upholstered bed that dominates the room, the kind with an oversized headboard and a mattress that looks softer than clouds. The curtains are a muted gray, the walls a rich charcoal, and everything smells faintly of cedarwood.
My luggage is already there, sitting like a quiet threat in the corner.
“Welcome to your new bed,” he says, as if it’s a gift.
I don’t answer. Instead, I grab my clothes and head for the bathroom, locking the door behind me. Though I know it wouldn’t stop him if he really wanted to get in.
