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)
I don’t know why, but I will find out.
“Do you think this is some kind of game?” I growl. I tighten my grip on her elbow until she yelps. I lengthen my stride, smirking as she trots to keep up. “Do you think this is some kind of movie where everything works out in the end? A fairy tale where the princess lives happily ever after?”
Our steps, and those of the men behind us, echo in the hallway, the sandstone and marble magnifying the sound.
“This is no game, and happy endings don’t exist, Miss Volkova.” I flash a leonine grin, devoid of humor or joy. She gasps. “I have far more power and resources at my disposal than you.”
She cringes. I shove her back against the wall, pinning her there with my hands locked around her shoulders.
“I know where your siblings go to school and what time your sister gets home. I know your brother works at a pizza shop near campus and lives with five others in a house a block from there. I know your father has a drinking problem that started when your mother died and that your other brother, the one from last night, cannot stay out of trouble.”
Eva’s lips part in surprise, then clamp shut. Her eyes narrow in a defiant glare that, given the circumstances, is almost impressive.
“I know all about you, Miss Volkova, and I can tell you now that what happened last night will not happen again. You will not surprise me a second time. I will be on my guard against you and your schemes. There will be no second chances to seduce me, here or otherwise.”
An odd emotion flickers across those brown eyes, perhaps confusion, before anger and fear swallow it again.
“If you make one wrong move, your life is forfeit, and so is that of your family. Do I make myself clear?”
She and I are so close I can see the flecks of black and gold in her irises, the way her eyelashes kiss the tops of her cheeks, the smudges of eyeliner and flakes of mascara dusting the dark circles under her eyes.
So close I can feel her rapid breath, pinched though it is, on my skin. My gaze drops to her mouth, to the full curve of her lips. Anger and something else I refuse to name shimmer through me, heating my blood.
“Is that clear?” I repeat the question one syllable at a time, my lips nearly moving against hers, her gaze drilling into mine.
“Yes,” she says, and I step away. She stumbles again from the loss of support and catches herself on the corner of the lone desk in the otherwise empty room.
“You will work here, sleep here, stay here. Your computers are being wiped of all information as we speak and will be delivered to you here. If you try to escape, there is a cliff wall on one side and heavily armed men on the other and you will not survive your attempt. This is what happens when you try to take on the Kucherov Bratva and its pakhan.”
The sweep of my arm encompasses the room, including the door in the side wall that leads to a bedroom and bathroom. “I suggest you learn to get comfortable here, Miss Volkova, because it is your home now.”
The unspoken hangs heavily between us, crackling with promise and threat. And you will never leave.
The last thing I hear as the door slams behind me is a sob.
The last of the sun’s rays make my office glow before I admit defeat and realize I won’t get any more work done today. Seeking silence, I retreat to my room and a shower. Eva has disrupted my equilibrium and concentration.
I can ignore her distress. She made her bed, and now she must lie in it.
What I can’t get out of my head is her eyes, those deep brown eyes blazing with anger, defiance, and fear. The way her lips parted, ready to scream, to yell in my face. The way her hands curled into the fabric of my sleeves, trying to hold me off or pull me closer.
Even after the day’s revelations, Eva Volkova still haunts me. I don’t even know what about her drew me in and now won’t let me go, what has sunk in and burrowed deep under my skin, what I can’t root out.
When was the last time I felt this way about someone? I can’t remember. I don’t understand this obsession. No one has power over me like this. Power like this is dangerous in ways I cannot afford.
And now she’s seen my face, my scars, the monstrous part of me, at least physically. She has seen the head of the Kucherov Bratva, and he is the monster everyone believes him to be.
She makes me furious, trying to take on my Bratva and win. But I know there is a fine line between anger and passion, and I’m not sure I can tell the difference right now.