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)
The kid is a mess. I told him I was tired of saving his ass, that it was time to pull himself out of it. Jordan got defensive and mean, and I told him I was done. He couldn’t keep doing this to our family, to me. I’d tried everything, but I couldn’t do it anymore.
It was the wrong thing to say, coming from a place of anger and frustration and pregnancy hormones. Jordan had cursed me out and stormed from the house.
To make things worse, I’d gone downstairs to leave for my appointment only to be confronted yet again by my father, telling me to break it off with Evgeny.
He said maybe I, growing up safe in L.A., didn’t understand what Evgeny is. But he’d been in Russia and knew what the Bratva are about. He promised me that Evgeny would never change. Whatever I thought was going on, whatever feelings I thought he had for me, I was wrong about him. Evgeny only cares for the power and the vows of brotherhood he took, including forsaking family.
It’s been one hell of a day, and it’s barely noon.
“Twins aren’t all that rough,” the doctor soothes as she hands me another tissue, assuming that’s what I’m crying about. “You’ll figure it out. All moms do.”
I nod, scrubbing my face with the wadded-up ball of tissues crushed in my hand. Then I listen as the doctor gives me instructions, explains warning signs of trouble that make my anxiety skyrocket, writes a prescription for prenatals, and orders the blood tests.
When she’s done, I run as fast and as far as possible from that office, wanting to put distance between all the truths and questions that had flooded me throughout the half-hour appointment.
Only a half hour, and my life will never, ever be the same.
There’s one more life-changing event I have to get through today. I know it’s time to tell Evgeny, whatever the consequences. I walk through the door, hoping he’s already home, since his plane had landed and was waiting for a taxi the last time we spoke.
When I get back to the estate, there are multiple missed calls and a message from Jordan on my phone. It’s been hours since he called. I’d been too caught up in my problems to check, and fear grips me as I listen to the message.
“Eva? Eva, I did something bad. Really bad. I told a secret I shouldn’t have to a guy I’m in debt to. I think he’s going to kill me. Please help me. Come get me. I’m sorry. I promise I’ll go straight. Just please come help me.”
I can hear the tears in my little brother’s voice even through the recording, the panic, the fear.
“Please, Eva. I’m sorry. I’m so sorry. Please come—”
The message cuts off, and I can’t call him back fast enough, my heart pounding and hands shaking. The first call rings until it goes to voicemail. So do the second and the third, until I feel sick.
“Come on, Jordan. Answer the damn phone!”
My fourth call goes to voicemail, too, my plea unanswered.
“Eva?”
My nerves ready to explode, I nearly screech at the sound of my name.
Vasya stands in the hallway, hair a mess as if he’s just woken up. “Is everything okay?”
“No.” More tears spill over, and Vasya’s image blurs. “Something’s happened to Jordan. He called, and he was scared, and I can’t get ahold of him now…”
“Let’s go.” Vasya doesn’t need to hear any more to jump into action. “Let’s go. Do you know where he is?”
“He texted me an address.” I look it up as I hurry after Vasya.
“I’ll take you to him.”
I feel the tears well again, panic thrumming through me until I feel sick with it.
25
EVGENY
“Ithink that was a success, don’t you?”
Dmitri leans back in the leather chair. The bumps and jerks of taxiing down the runway barely ripple his large frame.
“Hmm.”
My attention is on my phone. I reread the text I sent Eva when we took off. I haven’t received a reply yet, and the wait has my fingers drumming on my thigh.
“You don’t think so?”
“I think we got what we wanted.”
Dmitri levels his gaze at me, and I can almost hear his thoughts. Aren’t they the same thing? Except they aren’t. I wasn’t myself at the meeting, and I could tell the men who run my East Coast operations noticed.
This is the first time in memory that I have been distracted, pushing the agenda so my time on the East Coast would end sooner. And all because, for the first time, I have a reason to go home. I have someone to go home to, someone I’m desperate to see, to hold her in my arms and feel her warmth, breathe in the scent of her skin, kiss the lips I’ve missed so much.