Total pages in book: 71
Estimated words: 67534 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 338(@200wpm)___ 270(@250wpm)___ 225(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 67534 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 338(@200wpm)___ 270(@250wpm)___ 225(@300wpm)
I try to calm myself down. I’ve been under a massive amount of stress, after all. It could be that and nothing else. There’s probably nothing to worry about. Besides my psychotic fiancé finding me and forcing me to marry him.
Now isn’t a good time for uncertainty, though. I need a plan, and I think Andrei just might be my only chance at finding out the truth. I write out a very detailed list for him and slip it to him when he comes on the night shift.
“I need you to get something that isn’t on the list, though,” I tell him quietly. “There can’t be any record that you got it for me.”
He nods patiently and manages not to look too shocked when I tell him exactly what I need and exactly where to find it. I skip my sleeping pill that night, which leaves me feeling like shit the next day. I idle uselessly around the house until Andrei finally brings me everything I asked for.
I tell Viktor that I asked for him to bring me some things, just so he won’t be suspicious if he sees Andrei bring me the bag on camera. Viktor just nods and says he’s glad I trust someone in the house. That’s one landmine I don’t have to worry about stepping over.
When Andrei finally brings me the pregnancy test, I rush to the bathroom to take it. I keep it concealed among the box of tampons and pain reliever I also asked Andrei to buy. Men get so squeamish around that stuff, it’s almost too easy.
I pee on the stick and wait the necessary three minutes, all while praying that the test comes back negative. It doesn’t. Of course it fucking doesn’t.
I wrap the test in a tampon wrapper and throw it away. None of the men will go anywhere near it, which is some comfort at least. Maybe the only comfort. Because I can’t be pregnant. I can’t have Viktor’s baby.
I go back to my room and stare at the ceiling for a long time, considering my options. I can’t be pregnant. I can’t bring a baby into this fucked-up world. A baby is a huge vulnerability, and I can’t afford any vulnerability in my life right now.
11
VIKTOR
Anya somehow becomes more despondent over the next few weeks. At first, I just assume it’s stress. The last few weeks haven’t been exactly peaceful for either of us. Grinkov’s men are more concentrated in their efforts to find her in Brighton Beach. The smaller families are tightening their operations, closing warehouses early, shifting product routes, and testing loyalties. Sergei and I are both functioning on very little sleep.
Anya’s shift is different, though. She started sleeping a lot, like maybe she was depressed. Unfortunately, that was understandable given the situation.
Then, one day, she just seemed to give up any semblance of hope. She’s gotten quieter.
There’s no spark to her anymore, and she’s stopped acting so recklessly. She hasn’t tried to make any more escape attempts. She doesn’t challenge me anymore.
I can’t say exactly when the shift happened. One day, I find her standing in the kitchen cutting up fruit. When she sees me, she doesn’t glare or even pretend to threaten me. She doesn’t say anything biting to remind me that she’d stab me in my sleep with her knife if given the chance.
“Everything okay?” I ask her, mostly to see how she reacts.
“Yep,” she replies calmly, giving me nothing else.
She’s obviously lying. She doesn’t even try to hide it.
“I’m glad to see you eating,” I say, trying to start up any interaction.
“I’m not doing it for you,” she says without looking up, but there’s no real heat behind it. She’s just saying it as a statement of fact.
She grabs her bowl of food and carries it to the stairs without even glancing at me.
Anya has never given up a chance to show me exactly how much disdain she has for me. In the past she might have even shoved me or shown her teeth.
Now she keeps a precise distance.
Later that night, I review security cameras from my properties in Brighton Beach. It’s descending into chaos. Mikhail’s men continue to terrorize small businesses, putting pressure on families to bring Anya back to him. Everyone is a suspect now. No families are above warning.
Anya is mine. The thought comes uninvited and sharp.
She hates me, but I couldn’t want her more. She’s kept a very pointed distance since we had sex, but that hasn’t done anything to dampen my feelings for her. I watch her whenever I can, though she’s become very careful to avoid all cameras. She moves through the house like a ghost, careful to never be caught. It’s infuriating, but I also have some amount of respect for how easily she’s learned the patterns of this house.