Total pages in book: 79
Estimated words: 77879 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 389(@200wpm)___ 312(@250wpm)___ 260(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 77879 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 389(@200wpm)___ 312(@250wpm)___ 260(@300wpm)
CHAPTER 24
ROMAN
Zoya was so close, but I couldn’t go see her.
It had been an entire week of keeping my distance—staying away, not even able to check on her—because if I did, if I went anywhere near her, my cousins would accuse me of thinking with the head between my legs instead of the one above my shoulders.
I needed them to see reason.
I needed them to understand that my need to protect her, to care for her, wasn’t just because she had a tight ass and a great rack. This wasn’t about lust because she was pretty, or because her green eyes sparkled like emeralds set against the most beautiful blonde hair I’d ever seen.
No. While Zoya was the most stunning woman I had ever seen—flawless, untouchable—that wasn’t the reason I needed to know she was okay.
All week, I had been pacing the hallway outside her room, making sure only women went into her room.
Only women brought her food, helped her change clothes and bandages, made sure she stayed clean, and unchained her long enough to use the restroom or whatever she needed.
I didn’t trust the men.
Not all the guards would respect Zoya the way they respected the wives. Some of them would enjoy scaring her or try to touch her. Then I’d have to kill them—and Artem would complain about the bodies.
I didn’t believe Gregor or Artem would order her execution while she was injured. That was beneath them. But I couldn’t risk someone trying to take the initiative in a misguided attempt to earn favor.
The only man I allowed in that room was her doctor. Even then, his visits were timed, and he gave me a full report the second he left.
I wanted to get back to her.
I wanted to return to that armchair I’d stationed outside her door, to make sure no one else went in.
Instead, I was headed to the outpost building Gregor used for official business inside the compound.
Family meetings were normally held in one of the houses—in a rec room, a basement, somewhere more casual. Intimate meetings required intimate settings and the good booze. Places where we could smoke, drink, relax, and come to a decision as a family. Only the inner circle was allowed in those rooms—those close enough to be trusted around the wives and children.
This meeting room was different. This was where we handled formal business with outsiders. Hiring security, planning joint ops, even the occasional sit-down with a senator or congressman. It gave the illusion of welcome without granting actual access to our home.
I knew, the second I was summoned, this was about Zoya.
I had hoped I could reason with my cousins—that we could have a calm conversation where I could make them see my side.
Gregor and Artem weren’t unreasonable men—unless the safety of the family or the business were threatened. Zoya had done both. Now that we knew she had been pulling Solovyov’s strings, the extent of the danger she’d put us in was undeniable.
Zoya wasn’t a threat—not anymore. But making them see that? That would be difficult.
When I walked into the room, Gregor’s jaw was set, his fist clenched on the table, and I knew all logic and reason were off the table.
“She’s a liability.” Gregor started right in, his words clipped. “There are only two options. We send her back to Russia penniless and reliant on her family, or we kill her. You know which one I prefer.”
“No.” I stood from my seat, my chair tipping and crashing to the hardwood floor behind me. I shouldn’t have stood. I shouldn’t have yelled.
I knew better. But when it came to her, I couldn’t think or act with my usual cold rationality.
“This is not your decision,” he snapped, rising to his feet and glaring at me.
I was sure he was intimidating to most. That glower was effective. But I wasn’t most people. I met his height. I matched his size. And from years of sparring, I knew I could take him.
It would be close—I’d lose a few teeth and take some brutal hits—but if the others stayed out of it, I had a good shot. Especially when I was fighting for her.
My hands curled into fists, waiting for him to make the first move. I was angry, irrational, but I wouldn’t strike first—unless he forced me.
I hadn’t fought my way through a bloodbath or nearly lost my mind searching for her just to have her ripped from me now.
Of course, this had to be the one issue that brought Gregor and Artem into agreement. For the first time in who knew how long, they stood united.
They both stared me down. The weight of their authority pressed down on me—suffocating.
But not nearly as suffocating as the thought of life without her.
For the first time since I was a child, I had no power here.