The days blurred into silence.
No more notes. No midnight summons. No footsteps in the hall. No creak of his bedroom door as she passed. Konstantin vanished into his shadowy corners of the estate, leaving Alina to wander the rooms alone, her body still marked by the feel of his hands, the sting of his absence worse than any bruises he’d left on her hips.
She told herself she should be relieved. That it was better this way. Safer. That what had happened in the library—on that desk, with his c**k buried inside her, her throat raw from sucking him while candlelight danced over the spines of old Russian books—that it had been a mistake.
But her body didn’t agree.
Her n*****s still tightened at the thought of him. Her thighs still ached when she replayed the way he pulled her hair back and
