Total pages in book: 155
Estimated words: 141532 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 708(@200wpm)___ 566(@250wpm)___ 472(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 141532 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 708(@200wpm)___ 566(@250wpm)___ 472(@300wpm)
Mitya followed her gaze. “I’m sorry, Ania, I can do nothing about my cousin’s obsession with watching out for me. They will be outside, though.”
“And Sevastyan?” She could see he wasn’t going outside. He seemed to be making himself at home in the great room, right in front of the fire where she’d been all cozy. She picked up her fork. Maybe food was the better deal.
Mitya gave her a faint smile. “I prefer to ignore him. He should answer to me, but it seems I answer to him.”
“Did you have me investigated?” She nearly moaned when she put a bite of shrimp in her mouth. It was that good.
“Not me. That was Sevastyan. He would investigate the saints if they came into contact with me. I highly doubt that will ever happen. How is your father doing?”
She blinked, everything in her stilling. “My father?” she echoed, reaching for the chilled glass of sparkling cider.
“You mentioned your father was ill. I wondered how he was doing,” Mitya persisted in that same easy tone.
She let her breath out. “He’s slipping away. I have a nurse with him during the day and Annalise with him at night. He knows her and is comforted by her presence. I was just with him and he was sleeping. He goes days without speaking and then suddenly rallies.” She didn’t know why she told him the truth or why she allowed pain and grief to slip into her voice. She didn’t share news of her father with anyone. If he was going to die, he was going to do it without aid from an outside source.
“I’m sorry, kotyonok, I had no idea he was that bad. Is there anything I can do to help?”
Just the offer of sympathy had her choking up. She didn’t have anyone to share her grief with. That burden of her father’s care for the last three years. She didn’t have family left. Or friends. She’d learned not to trust anyone. She was positive her family had been murdered and her father’s death, although slow, was the result of murder.
Ania didn’t dare look at Mitya. He’d seen the shine of tears in her eyes, and she didn’t do that. She didn’t cry in front of other people. She took another bite, mixing the ginger and lime sauce with the rice. It was exquisite. He’d called her kitten in his native language, and for some reason that soft endearment sounded like he meant it. That choked her up as well.
“Ania.” Mitya waited.
She had no idea why, when she didn’t want to look at him, she found his voice so compelling that she had to raise her eyes to his.
“I’m truly sorry. I didn’t have any idea, or I would have waited to bring his condition up until after you ate.”
No one had shown her kindness or caring in a long time, and it felt good. She hadn’t eaten real food in a while. She tended to grab what she could on the run. No one had thought to bring her a meal, nor had anyone ever bothered to find out her likes and dislikes. It was difficult to look away from his mesmerizing eyes. She knew she was falling under his spell, and that was just plain dangerous.
“It’s all right, Mitya. I appreciate that you cared enough to ask.” Had anyone asked after her father in the last three years? She’d taken over the business, and very few clients had asked about him, though he’d worked for them for so many years. That had taught her something. The clients they had were extremely wealthy. Her family was considered the help, and it was not worth noticing that her father had all but disappeared. They weren’t friends and they never would be. It didn’t matter that the Dover business was extremely successful, and they were wealthy in their own right; they were still considered outsiders.
“Have you explored every means to help him?”
She nodded, concentrating for a moment on eating another bite of shrimp. This bite didn’t just taste exquisite; it tasted like caring. She found herself relaxing, wanting to talk to someone about her father.
“I went to doctor after doctor and surgeon after surgeon. All said the same thing. If they tried to remove the bullet, he would die. Maybe it would have been better to just try it. This has been a slow death for him. And sometimes quite painful. He was robbed . . .”
“I read about it when Sevastyan gave me the report. Do you really believe he was robbed? After what happened to your grandparents and mother, it seems an unlikely coincidence that your father would have been randomly attacked. Sevastyan doesn’t believe it, and he’s rarely wrong. He has a sense about these things.”
Ania desperately wanted someone to talk things over with, but she was cautious. She’d been biding her time for three long years. She might have to wait longer to set her plan in motion. Telling someone she didn’t believe that her father was randomly chosen to be robbed might very well ruin everything. Could she trust him? He was a man involved in criminal activity of some kind. She was certain of it. Were the families all connected?