Total pages in book: 74
Estimated words: 72284 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 361(@200wpm)___ 289(@250wpm)___ 241(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 72284 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 361(@200wpm)___ 289(@250wpm)___ 241(@300wpm)
Chloe drops her voice to a low whisper. “We need to keep eyes on her twenty-four-seven just in case.”
“She’s not going to hurt herself.”
“No, but he might call her and continue with his fuckery. Blame his shitty behavior on her. Make her feel worse than she already does. Who knows what that jerk is capable of.”
“Christ, I’d love to run into him just so I could hurt him,” Samantha says wistfully.
“I know, right? A dark alley with a rusty knife. I’d cut his dick off and make him eat his balls.” Chloe looks like an angel, but I’m pretty sure she has serial killer tendencies.
I smile to myself. I love my friends. No matter what, they have my back.
I step into the hallway, and when they see me, they’re all smiles.
“Guess what?” Samantha says.
“What?”
“We’re coming on your honeymoon with you,” they both say in unison.
The honeymoon. In Vegas. I had completely forgotten about it.
Suddenly, the idea of all that heat and bright lights isn’t as exciting as it was when Wilson had told me that’s where we were going for our honeymoon.
I go up to my friends, hug them both, and then step back.
“I love you guys, but I’m not going to Vegas.”
“No?” Samantha asks.
Chloe frowns. “You’re not staying here, are you?”
“Hell, no. I’m going somewhere I want to go.”
Now, Samantha frowns. “And where is that?”
“New York. I’ve always wanted to go, and here’s my chance. I’m going to check into the Waldorf, window-shop at Tiffany’s, eat a bagel, wander through Central Park, and visit Broadway.” I’m making this up as I go because I’m suddenly aware that I am as free as a bird and can go anywhere I want and do anything I want. I’ve always dreamed of visiting New York City. And God knows I need to get away from this nightmare.
“We can come too,” Samantha says.
But I shake my head.
“No, I need to do this by myself.”
“What if Wilson shows up when you’re gone?” Chloe asks.
My gut tells me he won’t.
“Too bad I won’t be here,” I say. “Let him wonder where I am.”
“And if he contacts either of us?” Samantha asks.
“Tell him to go to hell using all the colorful language you like. Feel free to get creative with the name calling too.”
Samantha grins. “Oh, it will be my pleasure.”
But Chloe looks uncertain. “Are you sure?”
I hook my arm through hers. “I’m sure. Now let’s go and drink champagne, and you can tell me all about your dark alley fantasies, especially the ones about chopping off Wilson’s dick.”
I love that my friends want to close ranks around me, and I will forever be grateful for them.
But right now, all I really want is some space.
4
LEV
The man sitting opposite me doesn’t know it yet, but he’s about to die.
Aleks Baracoff. Vor to the Zarkov Bratva.
My bratva.
Up until four days ago, he was one of my most trusted men. Just as he was to my father before me. Someone who would die for me. For the bratva. That is why I put him in charge of the operations in Chicago and why he is one of the very few people I trust with sensitive information.
That was until I received an anonymous email showing me some interesting CCTV footage of a murder.
A murder I’m now being blackmailed for because the blackmailer believes it could hurt the bratva if it got leaked to the press, and he wants money to ensure it doesn’t.
But I could care less about the murder the blackmailer thought would make him rich. In my world, murder is hardly an eye-opener. No, it was what else I saw on that footage that made me see red. The mere presence of Angelo Draconi, new don to the Draconi family, shaking Aleks’ hand and partying with him like they were fucking brothers.
The Draconi are our rivals. And our biggest threat.
The footage is a headache. Because now I have two messes to clean up. The betrayal of my most trusted vor, and a bottom-feeder wannabe who thought he could blackmail me.
Across the table from me, Aleks gives me a smile that once used to mean something to me.
But now I know the truth—that behind it is a man whose word means nothing. Whose loyalty can be bought by my rivals. Whose betrayal I feel right down to my very core.
We’re in the restaurant he owns near the riverwalk, an expensive place that sells some of the best Russian cuisine in the Midwest. A few yards behind me, my cousin Feliks stands with Aleks’ bodyguard, a seven-foot giant called Thor.
“You should have told me you were coming,” Aleks says. “I would’ve made arrangements to make your stay more enjoyable. Would you like something to eat? I’ll have Elina fix you a plate. The restaurant doesn’t open for another four hours, but there is plenty of food in the refrigerators.”