Total pages in book: 82
Estimated words: 79326 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 397(@200wpm)___ 317(@250wpm)___ 264(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 79326 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 397(@200wpm)___ 317(@250wpm)___ 264(@300wpm)
Can this be true? That means this whole thing was orchestrated by my father and Baron together. My dad made me think his and my mother’s lives were in danger when actually this is all because he feared the man I was dating could protect me from his machinations. From being a pawn and his stupid bratva games. From marrying Baron.
And Baron was either so competitive with Brash or so possessive of me–a woman he didn’t even know–that he had to steal me away. Win me for his own.
I feel sick.
Furious tears flood my eyes. I need to get away–from all of them. But especially Baron. I turn and run down the sidewalk in my strappy heels.
“Lara,” Brash calls after me.
Baron says nothing; he just stands there looking like he wants to murder Brash. I guess the guilt is too much for him. For some reason, that enrages me even further.
How dare he seduce me? Manipulate me? Knowing he was taking me out of the arms of another man. Knowing my father pulled the plug on my life in Paris on a whim and made me believe it was life or death to come here. He was a part of this entire game orchestrated by my father. All of them toying with my life, my affections, my reality.
Gospodi!
How dare he make me fall for him? Make me care about being loved by him?
How dare he stand there and say nothing? Say, that’s not exactly true.
His is the biggest betrayal of all.
“Move and die,” one of the Russian soldiers barks at him in Russian.
Good. He doesn’t get to follow me. I’m not under his control anymore. I won’t be controlled by him ever again. Not by him or my father.
“Lara.” Brash’s car pulls up beside me as I clomp down the sidewalk. The passenger door swings open as Brash drives slowly.
I don’t want to be with Brash. I don’t want to be with anyone. But I actually have nowhere to go if I don’t accept Brash’s help.
I stop walking, and he hits the brakes to match me. We look at each other through the open door.
He’s a handsome man–a sharp dresser with a Rolex on his wrist. He can be charming and respectful. He’s well moneyed and powerful. It’s true. His father probably has the power to protect me from my own father.
Not that I should require protection.
The fact that I do makes me want to scream at the top of my lungs.
If I go with Brash now, he can get me out of here. I need space to figure out what I want to do.
Against my will, I look back over my shoulder at Baron standing on the grass in front of Baranov House, surrounded by gunmen pointing their weapons at him.
He’s looking straight at me, and I know I’m right because he’s no longer jealous or controlling. He looks gutted. His hands aren’t in the air, but there’s a look of shock in his frozen form. He knows he’s wrong.
He knows he’s lost me.
And that’s the moment my heart splits open and falls in two pieces on the sidewalk. One half still wants Baron to pick it up and make things right. The other half never wants to speak to him again.
I pull the ring off my finger and fling it in his direction then climb into the front seat of the car and slam the door. As Brash peels out, a sick panic spreads through my body over the piece of my heart I left convulsing on the sidewalk.
I squeeze my eyes closed and will it to die along with all my memories of my time with Baron.
It’s over. It never should have been.
I’m done with Benjamin Baranov.
Baron
I stand rooted to the lawn, staring after Brash’s car.
I could not have fucked this up more.
My one job was to keep my wife out of Brash Rostov’s clutches, and I failed.
She ran away from me and straight into his car. The image of her flushed face, eyes bright with tears, makes me want to drop to my knees. Her sense of betrayal couldn’t have been more clear.
I don’t get to complete my self-flagellation because someone knocks me to the ground with what must be the butt of an AK-47 aimed at the back of my head. I land on my hands and knees, my head ringing. The men descend on me. One of them kicks me in the ribs, and another catches me in the face with his steel-toed boot.
I don’t try to fight back–I’m unarmed. I wouldn’t survive. All I can do is curl up in a ball and protect my head with my arms. The bruising blows keep landing, and I can’t help feeling like I deserve them.
This is what I get for hurting Lara.
Except she still needs me.