The King - S.R. Jones Page 0,65

saunters out.

God, she’s fucking unhinged. I can’t believe Konstantin saw anything in her. Then again, he’s unhinged, isn’t he?

He looks at me, and I think he might be about to say something or do something, but he just shakes his head.

I shake my head too, and eat my salad. He leaves the room without another word, and I contemplate how crazy the people in this house are. The world is full of people so fucked up, us mere mortals can’t even begin to imagine the depths of their fucked-upness. I thought I was a mess, but I’m a well-adjusted normal soul compared to the people in this house.

Later that day, I decide to use the swimsuit and get some exercise. Not wanting to swim where I’ll be seen, I eschew the outdoor pool and head to the indoor one, which is in the basement but a separate part to the bit where Konstantin carries out business. He showed me which stairs to take the first day I arrived.

I put on my swimsuit, look in the full-length mirror, and wince. It’s like titty central. I look like a cartoon of myself. Ugh. I cover it with the robe hanging on the back of my door and grab a towel from the fluffy pile in the bathroom. This place is like a hotel, not a home. It’s sumptuous, but cold. A bit like its owner, I think.

I creep through the house, trying to avoid everyone, and thankfully succeed.

There is no one at the pool, and I shrug off my robe, distinctly uncomfortable with how much cleavage this swimsuit shows. My god, who buys Gucci swimwear? He could have got me something from Primark, and I’d have been happy.

This thing is high cut on the legs, with a neckline that plunges almost down to my belly button, but somehow doesn’t gape or show much more than a strip of flesh between my boobs and toward my stomach. It is beautifully made, I have to say, but it’s not me. I’m a high neck navy blue Speedo kind of girl.

I execute a perfect dive into the pool and start doing lengths. I’m almost done when the door opens and closes with a soft click that echoes in the tiled room.

Shit.

I glance up and see Vasily. He’s wearing swim shorts, and his body is big and brutal, full of lean, defined muscle and ink. He sees me and smirks.

“Hey there, Cassie,” he says with a mocking sing-song tone to his voice that I don’t like. Then he dives into the pool and swims right up to me.

I’m by the edge of the pool, and he corners me, his arms bracketing me so I can’t move.

“What do you want?” I demand.

“I think the better question is, what do you want?” He shoots back. “What’s your game here? Whatever it is, I don’t like it, and I don’t like the way you’ve got K all messed up. He can’t afford a distraction like you.” He speaks slowly, as if at times he’s searching for the words in English.

This man is the second person to insinuate I’m something more than I am to the man who is holding me here against my will. “Listen,” I say as calmly as I can, because Vasily is scary, and I don’t want to provoke him.

Konstantin is scary, but I don’t think he’ll do anything to outright harm me. Vasily? I’m not so sure. He would probably quite happily drown me and then go tell Konstantin it was an accident.

“I’m nothing to Konstantin. I’ve been brought here against my will, as you well know, and need I remind you that his pregnant concubine is here.”

He busts out laughing. “Concubine. That’s a good one. Means like a slave, no? Or a courtesan. She’s a disgusting creature is what she is, and I do not trust her either. He needs to get a paternity test, but we’re not discussing her.”

“No, but you’re discussing me, and I don’t like it.”

We both jump at the deep tones. Vasily moves away from me immediately as Konstantin prowls to the edge of the pool, hunkers down, and trails his fingers in the water.

“Enjoying your swim?” he asks me.

“Yes,” I say.

“Swimsuit fit?”

“Yes, thank you.”

Konstantin looks at Vasily. “I’m getting a paternity test as soon as the baby is born. Not that it’s any of your fucking business.”

Vasily nods and looks away first as Konstantin holds his gaze.

“Now, Vasily,” Konstantin says.

“Yes, boss.”

“Fuck off. I want a word with Cassie.”

“Yes, boss.”

Vasily