Total pages in book: 16
Estimated words: 15192 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 76(@200wpm)___ 61(@250wpm)___ 51(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 15192 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 76(@200wpm)___ 61(@250wpm)___ 51(@300wpm)
Back home, dinners were quiet affairs. We ate, we finished everything on our plates, and we went back to our bedrooms. Father didn’t like talking over food. He said it was disrespectful. He always wanted to eat in peace.
“Thank you, Nina. I needed that.”
Nikolai and I stop in front of our bedrooms. Watching him, the shy smile on his face, the glint in his eyes—my heart begins beating in a way that is different, almost unfamiliar.
Something’s different tonight. Everything he says and does seems to wrap around me like a warm, cozy blanket, pulling me ever closer to him.
“Needed what?” I ask him.
He leans against his door and crosses his arms across his chest, highlighting his corded forearms and the veins on his hands. “Normalcy.”
I shift my weight from one foot to the other, dragging my gaze to the paintings beside him before bringing it back to his face. “Can I ask you something?”
“Yes, you can ask me anything, and I’ll do my best to give you the truth. If I can’t, possibly for your safety, then I will tell you I can’t say anything at all.”
“What do you do on the regular? You leave at eight and come home at eight. What happens in twelve hours?”
He doesn’t miss a beat. “I keep both enemies and our men at bay. Most of the time, I gather and go through useful information about them, something we can use in the future, make sure they think twice before trying to cross us and mess with us.”
I lean against my door. “What do you do if they mess with you?”
“I make them regret it.” He stands to his full height, and his size always makes me want to stagger back. “Good night, Nina.”
I grasp the doorknob behind me. “Good night, Nikolai. That was the most fun dinner I’ve ever had.”
A storm of emotions sweeps across his features, his gaze dropping to my mouth for a fraction of a second, but I don’t have time to dwell on it as I enter my bedroom.
After changing into my pajamas, I flop down on the mattress and stare at the ceiling.
Another piece of the puzzle that is Nikolai slots into place. And yet, I am no closer to figuring him out than I was at our wedding.
The man is a walking contradiction. I don’t doubt he’s dangerous, but there are sides to him—like the way he interacts with his staff—that make my heart flutter.
I put a hand on my chest, feeling the rapid beat of my heart. I dreaded coming here, but in less than a week, I feel more at home than I did in my old house. I’m free, I don’t get yelled at for the smallest things, I don’t get insulted for speaking my mind, and my words don’t fall on deaf ears.
Most of all, I actually matter. Nikolai listens to me. He pays attention as though he values what I think.
That has never happened before.
When I told Father and my stepmother about wanting to be a doctor, they laughed. Then they dismissed me.
The man they call a monster won’t do that. The monster makes me feel more important than all my family members combined, and it only strengthens my resolve to choose him over everyone else.
8
NIKOLAI
Ipush open the door, stepping into the grand room where my four brothers gather. The whole space is filled with the sound of loud, unrestrained laughter, which abruptly dies the moment they notice me and is replaced by heavy silence.
Our three eldest—Ivan, Maxim, and Luca—are sprawled across the plush leather couches, their smiles quickly fading as they glance at each other.
My fourth brother, Lev, and the only one I’m close with, sits at the far end of the room, completely absorbed in a stack of papers. As always, he’s oblivious to the atmosphere and unaware of my presence.
“How’s married life, brother?” Ivan asks, breaking the silence and pouring his drink of choice—vodka—into his glass. His black curly hair slides to his forehead, and he impatiently shoves it back, his black eyes unfocused. If I have to assume, it’s not his first drink of the day, and it’s not yet lunchtime.
“Can’t complain,” I say, which is true. Not that I want to elaborate it to them or even talk about my wife. I sit on the nearest single-seater couch and prop my elbows on my knees, weaving my fingers together.
“You have to be careful, brother,” Ivan says, his speech slurring, his gaze wandering. “If she’s anything like her mother, she’s going to be fucking the gardener soon.”
Maxim and Luca, even though they only tolerate me at best, turn away, looking like they want to be anywhere else but here. Ivan’s comments suck the air out of the room, and the familiar rush of fury courses through my veins. My vision turns red, and the pounding in my temples becomes louder and heavier.