Total pages in book: 90
Estimated words: 85156 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 426(@200wpm)___ 341(@250wpm)___ 284(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 85156 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 426(@200wpm)___ 341(@250wpm)___ 284(@300wpm)
He looks almost… vulnerable.
My gaze drops to his bare forearms, well muscled and corded with strength. Tattoos follow the lines from his wrist to his elbow, though I’m too far away to tell what they are.
The prickles dancing over my skin gather into a wash of heat at my core, then become a stirring pulse. A warning pulse. A pulse I can’t believe I’m feeling. And yet I am. The same pulse I felt the night we met, when I almost agreed to go home with him.
Would Evgeny have brought me here? A hotel? Somewhere else? Would I have seen that hair, sex-mussed? Followed the line of those tattoos with my lips so I could reveal the rest?
I’m staring, nearly drooling, at a man I now know is one of the most dangerous in the city. Not to mention the richest. I was sure that thought would cool the heat, but it only seems to inflame it further.
I turn to creep back the way I came. Evgeny will hate that I’ve disturbed him, and I’m not up for that kind of explosion right now. I can come out later to sneak food into my room.
“Eva?”
Shit.
I spin on my heel, swallowing my fear. “Sorry. I just came to get some dinner. I didn’t know you were here. I didn’t mean to disturb you. I’ll come back later.”
Cringing at the words tumbling out of my mouth at the same time I edge backward, I almost miss his words. “Come. Eat.”
I must have misheard him. “Sorry?”
“Eat.”
Evgeny pushes upright, and I can see more color at the top of his chest in the gap of his unbuttoned shirt.
“Okay.”
I walk to the fridge, feeling his eyes on me, and rummage through the odds and ends Alona left. My stomach gives a loud grumble as I start collecting food like I haven’t eaten in days, setting dishes on the counter before I search the cabinets for a plate.
“In the second cupboard to the right of the range.” Evgeny’s voice rumbles behind me. “Silverware is in the left drawer next to the microwave.”
While the food heats, I do my best to ignore him and the thoughts about him that ran through my head only minutes ago. I place the plates of leftovers exactly where they were, nice and neat, hoping to avoid Alona’s wrath tomorrow.
Dmitri strides into the kitchen just as I take my food out of the microwave and sit opposite Evgeny. The big man greets me with a friendly hello, then leans in and pulls something from his pocket. He places it in his boss’s outstretched hand, and Evgeny gives it to me.
It’s a cell phone.
I stare at the device in my hand, wondering what I’m supposed to do with it and why Evgeny gave it to me. I meet his eyes again, afraid of what he’ll require me to do.
“It’s a burner phone to call your family,” he says.
My mind goes blank, and I can’t process the words he just said. “My family?”
“Yes.” Evgeny pushes up and walks around the island to dump his dirty dishes in the sink.
“You may call them and only them,” Dmitri adds, pinning me with a severe look. “And we’re monitoring the calls. If you try to call anyone else, or if you try to tell them what’s going on or where you are, you don’t want to know what will happen.”
I nod my assent. I don’t even need the threat, I’m just grateful to be able to speak to my family again.
Evgeny gathers his papers and book, then drapes his coat and tie over his arm before his green eyes find mine. They stay on me for a long moment before finally sliding away. “Don’t abuse this privilege, Eva. It can be taken away.”
“I understand.”
“Oh, and they think you’re working for the government and won’t be home for an extended time. Don’t get the story wrong when you talk to them.” Evgeny throws the information over his shoulder as he disappears into the hallway shadows, his footsteps receding into silence.
Dmitri follows, and then I’m alone in the silent kitchen. I dial the number I’ve known by heart since I was small enough to use a phone, listening to one ring after another. I know it’s late, but I pray someone is awake.
“Yes?”
It’s my father’s voice, gruff, tough, unfriendly. And it’s the most wonderful thing I’ve ever heard.
“Papa, it’s me. It’s Eva.”
I’m surprised at how fast the tears come, and I do my best to hold them back. I can’t tip him off that anything is wrong.
“Eva! When are you coming home from this job? Why couldn’t you tell me you were leaving? I’ve had to get Marco to help at the bookstore, and he’s busy with his studies.”
“I’m sorry, Papa. It was so last-second. They needed me, and I had to go—” My throat, thick with tears, cuts off my words, and I spend the few moments breathing the sobs back. “I promise.” I finally manage to push the tears from my voice. “I promise I’ll come back soon.”