Total pages in book: 90
Estimated words: 85156 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 426(@200wpm)___ 341(@250wpm)___ 284(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 85156 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 426(@200wpm)___ 341(@250wpm)___ 284(@300wpm)
I try very hard not to think about the fact that I’m a prisoner in this palatial house. I have a feeling I’m going to spend the rest of my life here.
And I don’t even know how long that’s going to last.
Will I ever see my family again?
The sound of the door unlocking echoes through the sparse rooms, bouncing off the cold, bare sandstone, and I scramble off the bed. I can’t make it to the computer in time to pretend I’m busy and fool the bear who stalks in.
He’s easily one of the biggest guys I’ve ever seen, towering over me, his shoulders half as wide as I am tall. The top of my head barely comes up to the center of his chest, and I feel suddenly childish standing in front of him.
“You’re supposed to be working,” Dmitri grunts.
“I’m taking a break. My eyes hurt.”
The way he watches me, eyes narrowed, mouth a thin line, makes it clear he doesn’t believe me.
“Do you want me to say I’m having an existential crisis because I’m being held against my will until your boss decides he has no more use for me?”
“Actions have consequences,” the big man says, his massive shoulders rolling in a shrug.
I blink, open my mouth to reply, then close it again because he’s not wrong. I just didn’t understand how bad the consequences of my actions would be.
“Don’t try to take on the Kucherov Bratva next time. Now come on,” he says, jerking his head toward the door.
“Uh…”
The room I’ve longed to leave is suddenly the only place I want to be. But Dmitri gestures again, this time sharp with impatience, and I drag my heels as I follow.
The guy at the door, the one holding the very large gun, doesn’t look at me as I pass, but he does turn his head toward the big guy I’m following.
“We’ll be back,” he says to the guard, and I take heart that he said we’ll be back and not I’ll be back. Maybe it means I’m going to live.
For now, anyway.
We walk in silence down the hallway, then turn into another before my curiosity and anxiety get the better of me.
“Am I allowed to ask where we’re going?”
“I’m showing you the place. The parts you can go, anyway. Might as well get your bearings since you’ll be here for the foreseeable future.”
“Oh. Thanks.”
He glances over his shoulder. “Do you need anything?”
“I, uh…” The question catches me off guard. I’m already surprised by the tour of this estate. Now he’s asking me if I need anything? “I guess I need underwear?”
It’s an odd place to start, and the flicker of amusement through his blue eyes seems to agree. My cheeks heat.
“It’s not like you guys let me pack a suitcase when you dragged me here. The only thing I have is the clothes on my back, which are beginning to smell. I only have the toothpaste and toothbrush the older woman brought me the first night.”
Again, a flicker of amusement sparks in the bear’s eyes, but this time it’s accompanied by a chuckle. “All right. I’ll have clothes and other things sent to you. Alona should know your size. Anything smaller than me, and I’m lost, and I know better than to ask about a lady’s weight.”
I just stare at him.
“What about things for the shower?”
I nod, a small frown on my face. “I guess shampoo, conditioner, a razor. A brush. Hair ties would be nice.”
“I’ll add that to the list.”
“Oh, and, uh—” I pause again, steadying myself before I blurt, “—and birth control. I get horrible cramps if I don’t take it. And I’ll need feminine supplies as well.”
My voice drops as I say the last part, and I can feel his discomfort even though all I can see is the back of his dirty-blond hair, which he keeps cropped close to his head.
“Tell me what you need, and I’ll make sure it gets to you.”
“Thank you,” I say to the back of his head.
“This is the living room.”
He sweeps an arm to indicate the room as we speed through, giving me just enough time to gawk at the huge, airy space with walls of windows on three sides, all three looking out to an expansive patio, manicured lawn, and the cerulean blue Pacific.
“This is the dining room.”
We march through a room with an enormous table, more creamy stucco walls, and exposed beams on the ceiling. Art hangs on one wall, but I don’t have time to study it as we keep going.
“Bathroom, theater room, another bathroom—”
“Theater room?” I echo.
“Yeah. You can use it as long as you ask permission. Extra bedrooms and bathrooms through that doorway and down that hall.”
Dmitri gestures to an open door, and through it I can see a long hallway, pale carpet, and more doors. I only half see them, because my head is still trying to wrap around the idea of a home theater I’m allowed to use.