It should have terrified me.
But in the dark, quiet hours of the night, the truth is harder to hide. I wanted it.
When he told me what my father did, the explosion, the betrayal, I should have pushed him away. But when his mouth crashed into mine, I didn't fight. I melted. I arched into his touch like I was starved for it.
For a few seconds, I wasn't a prisoner, and he wasn't a captor. We were two people bleeding from the same wound, trying to drown it in each other.
I roll over, burying my face in the pillow to stifle a groan.
Fuck, what is wrong with me?
My father is a traitor. He sold a woman and a child to their deaths for money.
And instead of hating the man who is punishing me for it, I almost let him take me in the library.
My stomach churns. And still, beneath it all, there’s a terrifying pull toward the monster in the other room. I haven’t had enough. That taste ignited a hunger that refuses to be satiated with memories alone.
A sharp knock at the door makes me jolt upright.
"Open," Konstantin’s orders through the wood.
My heart hammers—part fear, part something else I refuse to name.
I stand, clutching my torn blouse to cover my skin. I’m a wreck. Still, I unlock the door.
He’s standing in the hall, dressed in a charcoal suit that fits. Cold. Untouched. But his eyes drop to my mouth instantly.
He remembers too.
The air between us crackles. For a second, I think he might step inside and finish what he started. I think he might push me back against the door and prove last night wasn't a mistake.
But then his mask slides back into place, snapping my head on straight with it.
"Get dressed," he commands. "We’re going to the office."
"Konstantin," I say. He pauses, hand on the doorframe. I swallow the lump in my throat. "I need to speak to him.”
He turns fully toward me, expression hardening. "No."
"Please." I step forward, the desperation I've been holding back all night finally breaking through. "I need to ask him. I need to hear his side."
"His side?" Konstantin laughs. It comes out harsh and bitter. "He has no side, Helena. He only has lies."
"I need to hear him deny it," I urge, desperate. "You told me he’s a monster. You told me he traded your family for money. If that’s true... if he really did that... I need to hear him say it. I need to know who my father really is."
"He’s a traitor," he says coldly. "He’s working with Moretti right now. If you call him, he won't give you closure. He’ll use you."
"One call," I plead, grabbing his arm.
The muscle is as hard as stone beneath his suit. The contact sends a jolt through me, a reminder of his hands on my skin last night.
"If you let me ask him," I whisper, looking up at him, "I’ll stop fighting you. I won't look for exits anymore. I’ll be the puppet you want. I’ll do whatever you ask. Just let me hear his voice."
He looks at my hand on his arm before he slowly peels my fingers away.
"You think this is a negotiation?"
"I’m begging you."
