“You still dance like an angel,” he said matter-of-factly.
He had always loved her ability to dance. Watching her dance was one of the few times his face would smooth out and the intense scrutiny would disappear. He shifted ever so slightly and frowned, as though restless and annoyed that he cared about her dancing still. He hadn’t meant to speak of it.
Never one to waste an opportunity, Tasha smiled up at him angelically and said, “That’s not all I do well husband,” before bringing her leg up in a powerful kick that connected with his knee.
Surprise, then cold fury flashed across his face as the knee crumpled and hit the ground. He had never been taken by surprise before, which was another reason this woman shouldn’t exist any longer. Knowing he had to end it once and for all, he reached out swiftly and took hold of her wrist before she could run from him. He twisted brutally.
Tasha cried out and dropped to her knees in front of him. He swung his arm around to catch her neck in the crook of his arm. Before he could wrench her neck, Tasha sent her elbow backwards into his solar plexus, driving the air from his lungs. She followed it with another elbow to his head that sent him reeling back, breaking his hold on her. It was clear she intended to cause maximum damage while defending her life.
David had been holding back. Reluctant to damage her, even knowing the outcome was inevitable. He no longer had a choice. Swiftly he backhanded her, snapping her head back and sending her body flying into the floor to ceiling mirror. She landed with a pained moan, but quickly tried to get up.
He pulled a gun from the holster under his arm and pointed it at her.
She screamed and dropped to the floor again on her hands and knees. She stared up at him, tears bright in her eyes. Slowly, she raised her chin. Wordlessly, she told him to get on with it.
David stared at the beautiful, disheveled woman with cold intent. He needed to kill her. He couldn’t have loose ends. He’d always known that one day she would have to die by his hand. Assassins couldn’t have weakness. She was his single obsession. Marrying her had always been an indulgence he knew he couldn’t afford. But he’d intended for her end to be peaceful. Not like this.
Natasha shouldn’t have fought back. He could have spared her this horror.
“Do it, you bastard!” she hissed at him.
His eyes went from ice to fire so quickly she gasped and pressed herself back against the mirror. His hand shook.
Seconds passed.
A minute.
She wondered if it would hurt badly. If she could still be so brave once she was laying on the floor bleeding out in front of him.
He swore savagely in Russian before lifting the gun and emptying it into the mirror above her head. Natasha screamed as shards of glass fell over and around her. She held her breath waiting for the fire of a bullet to rip through her flesh. For darkness to claim her. She huddled on the floor, arms over her head, harsh gasps sounding in her ear.
Natasha stayed that way for a few long moments after David had finished firing. A quick inventory of her body revealed that she had not yet been shot. Slowly, she lowered her arms, slivers of mirror sliding off as she moved. She dared to look up, terrified eyes seeking out her would-be executioner.
David lowered his arm, the silenced pistol now pointed at the floor. He shook his head as though to clear it. The look on his harsh face was a mix of annoyance and resignation. He closed the distance between them, his shoes crushing the shards of glass as he got closer. Natasha tried to back away, certain he was coming closer to put a bullet in her head, but winced when glass slivers bit into her knee.
“Stop,” he barked.
Natasha froze, a whimper escaping her throat. He holstered his weapon and reached for her. He pulled her straight up by the waist, the muscles under his shirt rippling as he lifted her out of the mess of broken glass. She gasped when he set her on her feet and began brushing bits of mirror from her shoulders and hair, his touch impersonal. Anger still radiated from him in waves, but he had himself back under control. He was once more the icy assassin.
Natasha shivered. Lifting her chin, she said as bravely as she could, “You didn’t shoot me.”
“No,” he answered. His dark gaze roving over, possessive, starving and furious.
“But you were planning on k-killing me, weren’t you?” Her voice wavered, but she attempted to hold his gaze steadily.
He looked down into her bottomless aqua eyes for a moment, his steely grip continuing to hold her immobile. Finally, he answered, “Yes Natasha, I had planned on killing you.”
A distressed noise escaped her throat before she could stop it. She pressed the back of her hand hard against her lips, attempting to stop the panicked sounds from escaping her. She wanted to be strong right now, she really did. She wanted to face her end with dignity. But when faced with the terrifying reality of her own demise, she was left feeling shaken and weak. She didn’t want to die!
“Have you changed your mind?” Her whisper was pleading.
She didn’t realize that the words she spoke were those of her childhood language: Russian.
David sighed heavily, his muscles tensed and pressed hard against her smaller body. He inclined his head slightly. “Yes, Natasha, I have changed my mind. I find I can’t bring myself to end you.”
She let the words wash over her and closed her eyes in momentary relief. He wasn’t going to kill her.
“But you’re still a big fucking problem for me.”
Natasha flinched. David had never been anything but polite and courteous when
