I nod. “Thanks for letting me know. I understand that I can’t be privy to business discussions between you … men.” I nearly said Bratva, but corrected myself because I’m not sure Konstantin would like me calling him that in front of Reece. “But it’s nice to know the basics of what’s happening, if it affects me. Such as who is coming with us to Paris.”
Bohdan rolls his eyes, but doesn’t say a word. I smile to myself and turn away. Once back at the house, it’s a whirlwind of activity as I pack and get ready for the trip. I’m nervous and not sure what to take. If this Maya woman is glamorous and gorgeous, I don’t want to look like some awful frump, so I do pack a few of the bits Konstantin bought me. I add some of my own comfortable clothes because I hate feeling like someone playing dress up, which is how I feel in those expensive clothes.
Once I’m packed and ready, I wait, nervous about the trip. I open my Kindle and read. I’m currently taking a break from my normal diet of depressing literary tomes and am reading a fantasy novel, which is brilliant as it takes me out of myself and my day-to-day worries.
“Cassie?” Konstantin pushes the door open to find me lying on my bed, reading. “You ready?”
“Yep. I need to ring Suze, you know.”
“Yes, I thought about that. Call her on the plane. Facetime her, let her see you’re with me, and we’re going to Paris; we can say it’s for business.”
“Oh, she’s either going to be utterly convinced that you have kidnapped me, or she’s going to be crazy jealous.” I laugh.
“Show her the plane, and she’ll be crazy jealous.”
“Why, are we going British Airways or something?” I ask.
He laughs. “Jailbait,” he uses that name for me, but he says it with affection this time. “We’re going by private jet.”
Oh. My. God.
“Erm, okay.” Shit, I’m wearing jeans, running shoes, and a t-shirt. “Do I need to change?”
He shrugs. “Nope, it’s a private jet, so you could wear your nightdress for all anyone cares. If you’re comfortable, keep those on.”
“Okay.” I must disappoint him sometimes. I bet he’d love to board his private jet with some gorgeous, Amazonian supermodel type on his arm, wearing nothing but head to toe Gucci, and here I am in my boring clothes.
He wants me, I know he does, and I’m convinced enough of the chemistry between us to believe this is as powerful for him as it is for me when we’re together. However, in public? I expect I come far short of what he expects from one of his girlfriends. Maybe that, along with his general trust and feelings issues is partly what’s getting in the way of us being more?
Maybe if I changed, became the glamorous, sexy kind of woman a man like him fits, I’d become someone he could see himself with long-term. I can’t, though. One thing I can’t and won’t do is change myself for a man. I’d do a lot for him, and give up a lot of things, but not who I am deep down. Not that. Then I circle back around to my dilemma. Do I want long term? I’m so torn. So conflicted. It’s draining.
I sigh, grab my bag, and follow him out of the room. He turns to me in the hallway, one brow raised. “You seem kind of downbeat for a girl about to take a private plane to her lover’s Paris bolt hole.”
And there it is. The difference between us. He thinks I’m like Liza. That I want the plane, the Paris home, the glamor… I don’t. I’d just take him and that would be enough.
I can’t tell him that, though; he’ll probably run a mile. Instead, I give him a half truth. “I’m not the kind of girl who is impressed with private jets and second, or third, homes.” I shrug.
“What does impress you then?” he snaps.
“Kindness, integrity, strength, loyalty.”
“Yet you like me, and I’m not kind.”
“Konstantin,” I say, pausing for a moment. “You’re a force of nature. A woman would have to be blind, deaf, and missing vital hormones if they’re not impressed by you. You also have strength and loyalty, and I believe deep down you have integrity too. Kindness … you could work on that one.”
“Work on? As if it’s something you can develop?” He laughs softly.