noted.
I didn’t see myself as someone who shied away from the truth. In this moment however, I would have done anything to believe the lie, to be ignorant and blissful.
Being swept up in the fibs and falsehoods had never been who I was. I walked around this world I had been born in, able to see into the shadows and know exactly what I was looking at.
It wasn’t the blessing you would think.
The word punishment came to mind, bringing with it a tirade of memories.
My father’s strong fist, head hitting a wall; my uncle’s slap, my cheek stinging; Thaddeo’s grip, my arm aching.
I knew deep in my bones, in my primordial ooze, that Konstantin would never lay a hand on me.
But violence wasn’t the only way I could be hurt.
I came to the sudden and horrible realization that not only did Konstantin hold my freedom in the palm of his hand, but he also held the ability to hurt me.
And with one single movement, he could curl his fist and crush my heart into pieces.
Ironically, it was Tatiana who was able to drop me off at the Russian Bathhouse. She was heading to a pediatrician’s office, with two bodyguards of course, and was happy to go on a short detour past the baths.
“Don’t let them embarrass you,” she told me as we arrived.
“Embarrass me?”
Tatiana nodded. “Men think their dicks are magical and expect all women to feel the same.”
I almost cracked a smile. “Don’t worry. It’s nothing I haven’t seen before.”
“That,” she mused, “is something I seriously doubt.”
21
Elena Falcone
I didn’t offer anyone the satisfaction by shielding my eyes. I kept my chin high, my shoulders straight, and strode straight through the bathhouse. A few men cried out at my arrival whereas others invited me to their heated pools.
Ignoring the men allowed me to take in the Russian tiles and design of the house; a collection of steaming baths, decorated with fountains and modern tiles. It was an old Russian past time, I had been told a few times, to bath publicly and with your friends.
I passed a group who hollered in delight at the sight of me. “Come join us, malishka!”
“Shut up, man,” someone hissed. “That’s Elena Falcone.”
The jeering stopped immediately.
I ignored them all and beelined for Konstantin.
Separated from the others, but still part of the public area, Konstantin and his men sat around a bath. They were relaxed, chatting and laughing, all dressed in nothing but a towel hanging low around the waist.
Sweat dripped down Konstantin’s chest and disappeared beneath the towel, his hair falling around messily, strands sticking to his forehead.
My brain blurred into a confused soup of images. Konstantin’s naked chest, his long neck, the Adam’s apple bobbing beneath his chin—
Keep it together, Elena, I told myself.
The steamy. heavy air of the bathhouse automatically raised my temperature, but seeing Konstantin nearly naked and dripping with—
GET IT TOGETHER!
“Konstantin!”
He lifted his head, eyes gleaming. “Elena.” He didn’t look surprised to see me. “To what do I owe the pleasure?”
Roman and Artyom also lifted their heads. Like their boss, they wore towels only, revealing their tattoos and muscled chests. Roksana and Danika were both very lucky women.
I kept my attention on Konstantin. “I had a breakthrough in Tatiana’s...illness.” I swallowed, the hot hair drying my throat.
Yeah, I mocked myself, it’s the hot air making you thirsty.
“You said if there were any developments to come right away,” I added.
“So I did.” Konstantin rose to his feet, his entire muscled golden form on perfect display. My lips parted. “This way, Elena. Let’s speak privately.”
Privately.
Bad idea.
You came here to speak to him privately, Elena, I snapped at myself. Stop acting like a horny teenage boy and pull it together.
“I can just wait outside...”
“This cannot wait.” Konstantin pressed a hand to my back. His presence overwhelmed me, his smell pressing down—
It’s just the humidity, I reasoned with myself.
“It will only take a moment,” I said as Konstantin led me away from the baths. “You’ll be able to return to your testosterone bath time in a second.”
He smiled.
Konstantin escorted me to a separate room, with a private bath. Not nearly as hot or crowded as the public area, but still warm and misty. The sound of fountains rushed past, mixed with the soothing Russian music played throughout the bathhouse.
Off the quiet bath, steam rose.
Some part of me wanted to dive in, to feel the warm water against my exposed skin. It would be so relaxing, such a break from my constant stress and fears.
“Elena,” Konstantin