Total pages in book: 113
Estimated words: 106159 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 531(@200wpm)___ 425(@250wpm)___ 354(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 106159 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 531(@200wpm)___ 425(@250wpm)___ 354(@300wpm)
“He made me promise I wouldn’t say anything.”
“And your morals should have told him to get stuffed,” I bite back.
I realize she is as defenseless to Saka’s charm as I am to Matvei’s when she whispers, “It isn’t my morals he sweettalks when he wants to get his point across.”
Frustrated but aware now is not the time for us to discuss this, I snatch up the box and march to my room.
This is the biggest invasion of privacy I’ve faced, and things were more extreme two years ago. I couldn’t even pee without someone watching me, and Saka’s blatant invasion of privacy has brought that to the forefront of my mind again.
I am mad, so very fucking mad, and I’ve got no one to take it out on.
That annoys me more than anything.
Sookie smushes his face with my calves while I stand at the foot of my bed to suck in some big breaths.
I’m so worked up it takes me several seconds to notice the purse I abandoned on the floor of Matvei’s borrowed ride is propped up against my pillow. Its vibrations announce my cell phone is inside, so what the hell is in the box I signed for?
When I flick off the lid, I stumble back.
Matvei kept his word. Except he didn’t return solely my purse and phone. He delivered on his promise to remove the hands of any man who touches me.
The amputated pair in the box are hairy, large, and turned on their sides so I can’t miss the caterpillar tattoo on the left thumb. The same one I spotted while stomping down on my attacker’s foot.
With my mind hazy, I pluck the gift card from the bow, yank Sookie away before he can pretend the hands are dinner, then read the note thankfully written in bold lettering.
One down. One to go.
M xx
My shock doesn’t register before a knock sounds from outside my room. “You decent?”
“No!” I scream in response to Saka’s question, preferring he believe I am naked than learn the inane reaction of a man I recently slept with. It could give him ideas on how suffocating Matvei’s overbearing nature may become. “Just a minute.”
I hide the box under my duvet before yanking off my shirt, pulling down my bra’s straps, then curling a towel around my breasts so I look ready to shower.
Once I’ve stuffed my toiletry bag under my arm, I exhale a big breath before moving for the door.
“Hey,” Saka greets like we didn’t just hang out for the past three hours at the boutique together, tangled in a web of lies and deceit.
I’m still seconds from blowing my top, but the card on the box announces Saka’s punishment needs to wait. Tyler is alive for now, and I’ll do everything in my power to keep it that way.
After drinking in my flushed expression, Saka announces, “Food is ready. I also got a handful of candy bars for dessert.”
I wipe the cheeky grin from his face with four short words. “I’m not hungry anymore.” Desperate to ward off his suspicion, I say, “Needing to carb load was a false alarm. I think I’ll just shower and go to bed.”
“Early night, hey?” He sounds wary, but since he believes I’m clueless about the surveillance devices he placed in my clothes, he reins it in. “Sounds like a good plan. I could do the same.” When he slants past me, his brow notches high into his hairline. “Is Sookie okay?”
My eyes bulge when I crank my neck back to my bed. Sookie is sitting on top of the box, scratching frantically at the duvet covering it. “Yep! He’s just hungry.” I return my eyes front and center. “I dropped tuna on my bed earlier. He must be able to smell it.”
“When did you eat tuna?” Saka asks, his arched brow exposing his suspicion is still high.
“Last week.” He grimaces when I say, “I haven’t changed the sheets yet. Why bother when I’m the only one sleeping on them.”
“True.” His screwed-up nose is lined with wrinkles. “I guess.” He nudges his head to the living room. “I’ll place a couple of slices in the fridge for you. You can reheat them later if you get hungry.”
“Thanks.” When he remains standing in my doorway, blocking my exit, I tug on his usually impenetrable morals. “Is there something you want to tell me?”
After a lengthy pause, he shakes his head. “Nothing urgent.”
His self-disappointment reminds me he isn’t hurting me to be cruel. He has my best interests at heart, but I’m not in the right headspace now to determine how I can explain how much damage he’s causing while trying to protect me.
I’m starting to feel like a prisoner in my own home. If it gets any worse, I may as well turn myself over to the authorities and serve the unjust sentence I was handed two years ago.