Total pages in book: 75
Estimated words: 69662 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 348(@200wpm)___ 279(@250wpm)___ 232(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 69662 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 348(@200wpm)___ 279(@250wpm)___ 232(@300wpm)
I felt my heart hurt at hearing that. I knew Kostya’s father was a bastard, but I didn’t ask him about it because I knew he wouldn’t want to talk to me about the topic. I’d tried before and he had closed off far too quickly that I’d taken the hint.
I let everything else go and smiled, glancing back into the kitchen and wanting to change the subject if it put Kostya at ease. And so I rounded the corner and stole those pies.
Twenty minutes later we were hiding behind the pool house, fingers covered in sticky pie filling and the sound of Saskia yelling in the distance carrying in the wind.
Saskia cursed in Russian and Kostya chuckled. “She’s so pissed.”
I grinned and nudged my shoulder against his. “She’s gonna be on a warpath for the next few days thanks to us.”
We were silent for a moment before I finally broke it up by asking, “Will you come watch me dance tomorrow?” I glanced over at Kostya. He was staring off into the distance, this weird look on his face before he masked it and looked at me.
“I can’t, milaya moyna.” There was this strange tone in his voice that had me straightening my back. “I have to help my father fix something on the East end of the grounds.” He cleared his throat and looked away, but I heard the disappointment in his voice.
I knew my expression probably mirrored that. And then sorrow filled its place because I hated that he had to be anywhere near his father.
Artur didn’t see Kostya as anything but offspring he wished had never come to fruition. And God did that break my heart. How could anyone not see how much light Kostya had, how sweet and gentle he was despite his size? How he’d sacrifice everything for the ones he cared about?
I looked off into the distance and lifted a hand to my throat as I thought about last week when I saw Artur berating Kostya right before he backhanded him hard enough his bottom lip had split open. I closed my eyes and felt tears prick behind them.
“No tears, my soft-hearted girl.”
I felt my throat tighten and nodded even though I wasn’t looking at him.
“I’ll come by tonight, though?” His tone softened and that strange tingling in my belly came back full-force. Once again, he changed the subject to comfort me.
If my father found out Kostya was sneaking in through my bedroom window to sleep in my bed, stealing pies would be the least of our worries. It wouldn’t matter if we were just friends, best friends… soulmates.
Although Kostya never talked about it with me, never confided in me about the darkness that consumed him, I knew his home life was bad, as it was with so many families within the Bratva.
But I felt and saw that ugliness when he couldn’t hold the mask long enough, when I’d seen it slip and fall before he put it back in place. I’d feel it in the tightness of his body when he’d slip into my bed and curl his big form around mine.
And I wished like hell I could take that pain from him, wished I could wrap him up and protect him from the ugliness that was so prevalent in our world and lives.
So I didn’t say anything in return, just rested my head on his shoulder as we both sat there in silence, staring off into the grounds and eating those stolen pies.
Chapter
Two
Anastasia
Ballet was a very integral part of my life, and even more so for my Russian family. My mother had been a renowned dancer in Russia, and although I knew my father had seen her dance before, their marriage had been arranged.
So it was only natural for me to also follow in her footsteps.
I spent the last thirteen years of my life immersed in ballet. I ate, slept, and breathed it. My toes bled, blisters formed, and more times than not my entire body ached to the point when I crawled in bed at night, it was with tears streaming down my cheeks.
But despite the pain and sometimes frustration, if I didn’t have ballet I wouldn’t be me.
I finished off my set with the flourished arabesque, my eyes still shut, but the sound of the crowd’s pleasure over the performance brought a small smile to my lips.
I still heard the crowd clapping as I exited the stage. After the curtain call and changing, I met with my family out in the lobby. And once again, despite knowing he wouldn’t be here, I searched for Kostya.
Although he didn’t come to many of my performances, he always did try, much to my father’s disapproval. Then again he was the son of a foot soldier, which meant, in my father’s eyes, not good enough for me.