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 go back down to the kitchen to clean up from my breakfast, and find that everything is already cleaned and put away. In the absence of something to do, I go to the fridge and pull out a bottle of water. The cold against my palm steadies me. I take a small sip, then another, and the nausea holds off. The house feels impossibly big without all the activity. Where is everyone?
I walk toward the living room and pass by the control room. The door is cracked open, which is unusual in itself. Viktor is obsessive about his privacy, and he’s obsessive about this room in particular. He doesn’t leave it open. He doesn’t leave it accessible. He doesn’t leave anything private unattended.
Curious, I push the door open. He isn’t inside, and I tell myself that I’m just going to check the feeds and see where everyone is. The door to Viktor’s room is shut, and I think maybe he’s up there. Maybe he left my room and went to take a shower or something.
The guards are all stationed where they should be, so there’s no mystery there. It looks like Sergei is at the office. He’s hunched over a desk looking at some paperwork, and he looks stressed.
I look down at the desk and see a smattering of papers in front of me. I’m so curious about what’s going on out there, I just can’t help myself. I check the camera again to make sure Viktor hasn’t left his room. I decide I’ll just have a peek. There’s no harm in that, right?
Except that the first page I find has my name on it. My blood goes cold as my eyes scan the contents.
Anya Malenkova
Under my name is a list of known associates, locations where I used to go when I was free. Pictures of me. There are handwritten notes in the margins, but they’re scribbled so poorly I can barely read them.
My blood runs cold and I try to make sense of what I’m looking at. I flip the page and see the words Malenkov Leverage in big, blocked script.
Under it is a breakdown of my father’s business interests in Brighton. The gambling operation I heard about in passing. The warehouse he quietly backs. The trucking company that moves “legitimate” product and hides the rest under it. A list of men who answer to him and the men those men answer to.
Then, there’s a copy of my wedding announcement. It makes my stomach roil. I flip the page.
Grinkov Counterpressure
My hand trembles slightly as I scan the page. It lists Mikhail’s club names. His shipping routes. His investigators. His weak points. Then there’s a section labeled Trade possibility.
My eyes snag on the first sentence.
If necessary, return her through intermediary to reset board position.
My stomach drops. Heat floods my face so fast it makes my ears ring. I stare at the words until they blur together.
Return her.
Reset board position.
He took me because he wanted to use my body as a bargaining chip between two men who think they own Brooklyn, and he thought he could profit from it.
My throat tightens, and my eyes sting. I blink hard, refusing to let any tears fall. There’s no date on these pages, so it’s possible he created this plan ages ago. Things may have changed for him, but it doesn’t change the fact that, at some point, he intended to use me as a pawn, just like my father. Just like Mikhail.
I quickly look up at the monitors again, just in time to see Viktor stepping out of his room. I quickly put the documents back as they were and stumble out of the room, rushing to the living room so I can look casual when he comes down.
I hear his footsteps as he descends the stairs, and then his unsure gait. He must be looking for me. When he appears in the doorway, I pretend to look up in surprise. I feign ignorance because I haven’t had enough time to truly process what I’ve just seen.
“Hey,” he says with a genuine smile on his face.
“Hi,” I answer, trying to keep my tone neutral.
He approaches slowly, then bends down to leave a sloppy, possessive kiss on my lips. I try not to recoil. I try to remind myself that, in his mind, we’ve just had sex and everything is great between us. He has no idea what I’ve just seen.
Still, I can’t stop the instinct to put my hand up and push him away. He takes a step back, cocking his eyebrow at me curiously.
“Sorry,” I lie. “I’m just feeling really nauseous right now. I don’t want to throw up on you.”
He smiles sympathetically and kisses me gently on my forehead. My skin burns at the contact. I wait until he’s turned around to swipe at it.