Total pages in book: 62
Estimated words: 59983 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 300(@200wpm)___ 240(@250wpm)___ 200(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 59983 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 300(@200wpm)___ 240(@250wpm)___ 200(@300wpm)
“I allowed her, I allowed that marriage and his birth so I’d have a goddamn heir.” I bark a harsh laugh. “Some fucking future he is.”
Viktor rejects the call and I exhale an angry breath through my nose, nostrils flaring.
I can’t escape it. Ever. “They’re supposed to be the family I should be able to count on,” I mutter. A clingy ex-wife who never respects boundaries and a son who only ever causes trouble for me to deal with after the fact.
I lift my gaze to Liliana again and catch her frowning at me.
The spell of privacy and getting to know her is over.
And that’s the worst crime of all. Reality is right here again, knocking at the door and reminding me that nothing is ever going to change.
11
LILIANA
“No, I’m not going to rush back to the city just because she thinks she has any fucking control over me,” Anton tells Viktor. He’s stern, letting every ounce of his authority bleed into the command he gives his assistant.
In other words, it’s icy in here.
I swallow more water, needing something to focus on while Anton’s anger fills the room. It’s different from Roman’s tantrums. Roman blamed everyone else for problems he usually created himself. Anton’s fury has a reason, but that doesn’t mean I have to get pulled into it.
And I’m not going to pity him. He helped create this pattern by cleaning up Roman’s messes for years. That part is on him.
Although I couldn’t fault Anton for being mad about this news, I’m not about to pity him, either. He allowed Roman to be raised the way he was and continues to fix his fuck ups. That’s on him.
Instead, sitting here on the sidelines of this bonfire of a situation, I try to think up the easiest excuse to slip away. To leave him to do whatever he needs to.
Viktor answers another call, this one seemingly from one of the Sokolov men, but a woman’s voice comes over the speakerphone. Elena begs and argues, trying to convince Anton to come back and clean up the mess Roman caused.
It isn’t my problem anymore. When Roman screwed up, he always said his father would handle it. Back then I wondered whether Mr. Sokolov was endlessly forgiving or just blind to his son. Now I understand the pattern.
Anton grows more furious while Viktor waits on the phone. Whatever this involves, it’s clearly enough to rattle him.
All I can do is stay quiet.
Watching Anton snap reminds me why I walked away from Roman’s world in the first place. I’m not afraid of Anton, but I don’t want to trade one Sokolov mess for another.
This is supposed to be my fresh start: my life, my choices, and the bakery finally climbing out of debt.
I need to remember that, no matter how good Anton makes me feel.
Anton takes the phone from Viktor and ends the call abruptly. Elena’s voice is silenced mid-sentence as she demands to know, again, why Anton is bothering to stay out of the city at a big house by himself.
As I stand, I’m glad he didn’t correct her that he’s not alone. Or maybe, to him, he really is. I’m that small a blip on his radar. I don’t count as company, or even a guest here.
You aren’t.
You’re not a guest. He didn’t invite you here.
You crashed into his car in a blizzard and that’s the only reason you’re still here.
“Excuse me.”
He’s already dialing someone else, and it’s with bitter relief that I can put some distance between us. I plan to go back to my guestroom and rest, since I didn’t exactly sleep much last night.
I don’t get more than halfway across the room before I hear him sliding his chair back. The feet scrape on the floor, prompting me to turn back.
Viktor is already leaving through another door, clearly dismissed.
The thunderous expression on Anton’s face suggests that I’m not.
“Where are you going?”
I frown, watching him stalk after me. “To my room.”
“Did I say we were done here?”
I huff at his attitude, turning to continue on my way. “I’m not yours to boss around.”
He growls. Growls. And in a few short seconds he’s caught up to me. “I’m not through with you.”
“Oh. Is that so?” I reply glibly, heading up the stairs.
“I’m not through with you,” he states again.
“I think you are.” I gesture in the direction of the dining room. “Because it sounds like you’ve got other things on your mind. Other things you need to do—”
He spins me on the steps. It’s a similar move to what happened last night, when I tripped on the riser and fell into his arms. This time, he pulls me toward him. All I concentrate on is how he has a hold of me again. I’m in his arms, suspended in the air, and quickly carried up the rest of the steps.