I escape upstairs to find Konstantin already in our room, sitting on the bed in dress pants and an unbuttoned white shirt. He looks up when I walk in.
"How was cooking with my mother?"
"Exhausting. Enlightening. Slightly terrifying."
"That's accurate." He stands, walks over to me. "What did she tell you?"
"That your father kidnapped her too."
He winces. "I was hoping she wouldn't mention that."
"Is it true?"
"Yes. Though in his defense, she was being stubborn about dating him and he ran out of patience." He cups my face. "It's a family trait, apparently."
"Kidnapping women?"
"Knowing what we want and refusing to let anything stand in our way." His thumb brushes my cheek. "Including the women themselves." He kisses me, slow and deep. When he pulls back, I'm breathless.
"Go shower," he murmurs. "I laid out a dress for you." In the closet, there's a dress I've never seen before. Dark green velvet, elegant and beautiful and definitely not from my apartment.
"Konstantin? Where did this come from?"
"I had someone bring it yesterday. Anya helped with sizing."
"You bought me a dress?"
"You needed something for tonight. This one made me think of you."
I hold it up. It's beautiful. Exactly my style.
I shower quickly, do my makeup, and slip into the dress. It fits perfectly. The velvet is soft against my skin, and the color makes my eyes look bright.
When I come out of the closet, Konstantin is fully dressed—black suit, white shirt, no tie. He looks devastating. Powerful. Dangerous.
He turns when he hears me, and his expression goes molten.
"Fuck," he breathes.
"Is it okay?"
"You're perfect." He crosses to me in three strides, his hands immediately going to my waist. "Absolutely fucking perfect. But we have a problem."
"What problem?"
"I need to be inside you. Right now. Before I face my family and pretend to be civilized."
"Konstantin, we don't have time."
"We have fifteen minutes. I can work with that." His hands are already sliding up my thighs, pushing the velvet up. "I need to feel you. Need to remember you're mine before I sit through dinner making small talk."
"Your mother said—"
"My mother can wait." He finds my panties, black lace that matches the dress, and hooks his fingers in them. "Lift."
I shouldn't. We're going to be late. His entire family is downstairs waiting.
But I lift anyway, and he drags my panties down my legs.
