Total pages in book: 83
Estimated words: 79312 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 397(@200wpm)___ 317(@250wpm)___ 264(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 79312 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 397(@200wpm)___ 317(@250wpm)___ 264(@300wpm)
“You’ll keep me safe, won’t you?”
“Always, Lydia.”
A third voice joins the conversation. “May I offer you a dessert menu?”
“No, we don’t need dessert,” the asshole says. “We’re leaving.”
Fuck.
As long as there is breath in my lungs, Yudin will never touch her. I will protect Lydia with every ounce of my being. I will not allow anyone to inflict harm upon her. What happened to my sister will never happen to another innocent, fragile soul. Not while I’m alive.
Not ever.
I do a mental check of the weapons I’ve got—a sleek handgun and hidden blade.
I’m ready.
I can still see my sister’s tear-streaked face. I can still see her broken body in my arms. I can still feel the way she clung to me as if clinging to life itself, and I was the only one who could save her before she drew her last breath. Every day, I remind myself of the vow I took because of her.
“When we get there, keep the car ready. We might need to move quickly. I don’t know what kind of backup he’ll have.”
Lev nods while Aleks taps something out on his phone as fast as his fingers can move.
I bet she’s scared. That bastard better not have said anything to hurt her. If he did, I’ll fucking break his jaw for that. See how easy it will be for him to insult her then.
“They’re getting ready to leave. Their car’s been pulled around to get them.”
Fuck.
“Got the car on our radar. We’re closing in.”
I hit the accelerator.
CHAPTER FOUR
Lydia
Our meal’s come to an end, and I’m starting to get nervous about Vera’s messages to me, but Timur seems in no rush like he was before. Instead, his moves seem almost… calculated. Planned.
The waiter brings us our check, and Timur pays.
“Listen, I need to speak to my sister right away. Can we go?”
“Of course.” He doesn't meet my eyes, and a muscle twitches in his jaw, but when I give him a second glance, he's all gentlemanly grace as he puts his hand on my lower back and leads me to his car. A valet brings it to the curb. He opens the door for me, and I slide into the passenger seat as he gets into the driver's seat.
But something’s off kilter as if there’s a movie playing, but the reel is skipping, each second that passes a hair disjointed. The silence between us crackles with unspoken tension, the air thick with my repressed fears and whatever the hell is brewing with my fiancé.
“What did your sister say?” he asks as he unhurriedly pulls into the street. The car engine purrs, and it’s almost reassuring.
Everything’s fine.
There’s nothing to worry about.
Still, my hands itch to strike the lighter in my bag. I can already hear the snitch of flame and see the flicker of measured fire. I swallow hard and look out the window.
I’m an adult now. I’m not the rebellious teen looking for something to control.
“Not much… just to come home.”
“So she told you nothing.”
“No,” I tell him. “I don’t know at all. It’s a little odd; ever since Vera got married, she’s been mysterious about things. She told me that I needed to talk with her in person.” I don’t tell him she thinks my phone’s unsafe.
“Of course she doesn’t. She fucking married a Romanov.”
I look at him sharply. I didn’t even know he knew a thing about her. Is this going to be an issue?
I trust Timur, but…
I’m looking down at my phone, trying to catch up on messages, when I see that my last messages to Vera never sent. Strange.
“Put it away, Lydia,” he says cooly. “You know how I feel about that when we’re together.” His fingers drum impatiently on the steering wheel.
“I know, but she’s worried.” I’m distracted, trying to figure out if my cell phone service is working and don’t notice the rising tone of his voice.
“She has no reason to be worried.” He exhales. “I’m losing my patience. Put the damn thing away.”
“I need to—”
The next thing I know, he snatches my phone from my hand, rolls down the window, and tosses it into oncoming traffic.
“Timur!”
His lips are set into a thin line as we drive even faster.
“How could you do that? That was my cell phone. Oh my God!” I clutch at his arm, but he shoves me off of him so hard I bang into the passenger door.
I open my mouth to protest further when I realize we’re driving in the wrong direction. Ice pulses through my veins, my cell phone forgotten.
I draw in a deep breath. I have to stay calm. I can’t lose it.
“Timur. Where are we going? I thought we were heading home.” This is not the right direction.
“We are,” he says, a hardness to his voice.
An uneasy feeling settles in my stomach. I glance around, the dark waters of the river glinting under the bridge lights as we speed across.