Total pages in book: 108
Estimated words: 100416 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 502(@200wpm)___ 402(@250wpm)___ 335(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 100416 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 502(@200wpm)___ 402(@250wpm)___ 335(@300wpm)
Dmitri crossed to his desk and wrote out a check for the agreed-upon amount. Dr. Jones wasn’t a fool—she’d ensured herself a nice bonus for being inconvenienced. He’d readily agreed to it because, even out of her mind, Keira was more likely to trust a doctor she had experience with than anyone on his staff. “Anything I should know?”
“She’s going to be out of sorts for another week, at least. Depressed, anxious, something else along those lines. No telling how it’ll present, because everyone is different, but she won’t be back to anything resembling normal even though she’ll think she is.”
Fragile. For all her fire and spikes, his Keira was so goddamn fragile.
“I’ll take it into account.”
She gave him a long look. “I’d also remove or lock up all the alcohol in the place, and whatever other drugs you might have lying around. She didn’t choose this, so chances of relapse are high.”
He’d already accounted for it. Keira would find no easy pickings in the household, and the men were under severe threat if they supplied her with something Dmitri had forbidden. All of that wouldn’t matter a damn bit if he couldn’t convince her that she had a good reason to stay sober.
Dmitri didn’t lose.
He sure as fuck wasn’t going to lose when it came to Keira.
CHAPTER FOUR
Keira woke up restless. She tried to go back to sleep, but unfamiliar energy coursed through her, demanding she get out of bed and do something. She started by peeling off her clothes. They weren’t the ones she’d worn to Romanov’s—or ones that she’d packed—and she had no memory getting dressed in the first place. Did that goddamn Russian do it?
She wasn’t sure what bothered her more—that he’d seen her naked or that he had seen her when she was defenseless.
Needing some armor back in place, she wandered into the bathroom. It was as big as some people’s bedrooms, with a tiled walk-in shower and double sinks with a counter large enough to sleep on. The dark gray coloring was accented with deep red, and brought the word decadent to mind.
A second doorway led to a large walk-in closet filled with clothing. She rifled through it, her eyebrows inching up. All in her size, down to the shoes lined up like little soldiers in their cubbies. High-handed Russian. That was his MO, though, so she wasn’t exactly surprised. Dmitri Romanov was god of the world he moved in, and he didn’t hesitate to bend people to his will to suit his purposes.
He wouldn’t find her nearly as bendable as the others in his life.
Keira considered dolling herself up, but he’d see right through the ploy. Dmitri had home-court advantage, and he would use it without mercy. Her only chance to get one up on him was to act against expectations and use his surprise for her gain. She didn’t know what she wanted yet, but she wasn’t going to roll over and play Stepford wife just because she’d said yes at the altar.
If Dmitri had given her half a chance, she would have given him a chance.
Instead, he pulled high-handed shit that was right in line with her brother, and then locked her in a room for… God, she didn’t even know how long it had been. Long enough for her to lose her damn mind and sweat out every single drop of alcohol and whiff of weed in her system. Another choice she might have considered making on her own but that he’d taken from her hands.
He’d pay for that, the same way he’d pay for the threat he’d leveled to draw her out of her home and into that god-damn chapel.
She took what was supposed to be a quick shower… right up until she realized how gross she felt. Both the shampoo and soap were expensive and smelled faintly of roses, and the water pressure eased tension from her shoulders. Giving up all pretense of rushing through it, she soaped herself up several times and then stood under the water, her racing thoughts slowing for the first time since she’d walked out of the O’Malley house and climbed into Dmitri’s car.
Romanov wouldn’t allow open rebellion. He’d expect it, but he wouldn’t be able to let her run rampant unless he wanted to undermine his position—the whole reason he’d married her in the first place. Because of that, he would have guarded against it the same way someone childproofed a house.
The last thing he’d expect was obedience—or at least the appearance of it.
Keira could play the game. She was out of practice, but it wouldn’t take much to slide back into the rhythm of things. The Romanov operations were just another flavor of O’Malley. Dmitri would want kids at some point, but she’d cross that bridge when she came to it. There wasn’t a chance in hell he’d push for that before he secured his power.