Total pages in book: 83
Estimated words: 78587 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 393(@200wpm)___ 314(@250wpm)___ 262(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 78587 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 393(@200wpm)___ 314(@250wpm)___ 262(@300wpm)
One hour stretched into the next, and before I knew it, dinner had come and gone. Something was wrong, and I knew exactly what it was. I’d followed Sergei to his bedroom. I’d heard his rant. He thought kissing me was a mistake. That it was too soon. I wanted to open the door and tell him face to face that he was wrong, but I couldn’t find the courage to step into the bathroom.
All I could do was whisper through the doorway and hope he heard me. And even then, I didn’t stick around to find out. Now, I was left wondering if that was a mistake. It was a thought that had me going to see Bog.
He was sitting at his desk near the front door, watching the security footage. His eyes skirted over to me as I approached. “Have you heard anything from Sergei?”
“He’s working.”
“Where?” I pushed. “Is he at the casino or is he doing something else?”
“He’ll be home when he can.”
His expression was hard and cold, leaving no room for argument. The disappointment hit me harder than I expected. I had more questions, but I didn’t bother wasting my breath. I simply gathered up my things and carried them into the bedroom.
I sketched for a while, but it did little to help me clear my head. Everything I drew came back to him. His eyes. His mouth. His hands. Eventually, I put them to the side and curled up in bed. The next morning, there was still no sign of Sergei. I didn’t bother asking Bog where he was. I knew he’d just put me off, so I made myself some coffee and slipped off to the living room.
I was making a list of possible jobs that I could apply for when there was a knock at the door. I didn’t move. I figured it was just a delivery of some sort and Bog would take care of it.
Seconds later, I heard a familiar voice call out, “Alina?”
“Nikolai?”
I stood and started for the kitchen. As soon as he spotted me, Nikolai’s eyes lit up, and a smirk crossed his handsome face. “I knew you were still here.”
“Afraid so.”
“How’s it going?”
“Okay.” I shrugged. “Just doing what I can to keep myself busy. What about you?”
“Same old. Same old.” He grimaced. “I can’t believe he’s kept you cooped up in here for so long.”
“It’s not that bad.” I motioned my hand over to my sketch pad. “I’ve been working on a few things.”
“Oh?”
“Yeah, just some sketches and a little poetry.”
“Sounds like a good way to bide the time.”
Before I could stop him, he’d picked up my sketchbook and started flipping through the pages—pages that were filled with pictures of Sergei. After a moment, he looked up at me with his brow perched high. “There’s a lot of Sergei in here.”
“Yeah, well.” I shrugged. “He’s pretty much the only person I’ve seen over the past month or so.”
“Um-hmm.” He motioned his head towards the front door. “What about Bog?”
“I guess he doesn’t inspire me like your brother does.”
“I see.” Realizing he’d seen right through me, heat rose to my cheeks, and that seemed to spur him on even more. “You got a thing for my big brother?”
“It’s not like that.”
“I was just messing with ya,” he scoffed. “Sergei’s a hard ass. He makes it hard to even like him, much less fall for him.”
“He’s been really good to me, Nikolai.” The words came out too quickly, too defensively, and I had no doubt he could see right through me when I added, “He’s gone out of his way to protect me and make me feel safe, and I will forever be indebted to him for that.”
“Ah, hell. You don’t just like him. You love him.” He shook his head. “I hate to break it to ya, but you’re in a world of trouble, sweetheart.”
The walls in the room suddenly felt like they were closing in on me, and I didn’t know what to say or do to make it stop. I was trying to think of a response when he threw another punch. “Have you seen or even talked to Viktor since you’ve been here?”
“No. I haven’t.”
“Damn. Sergei still hasn’t told him you’re here?”
“I don’t know what he has or hasn’t told him.”
He lingered for a moment, then turned his focus back to my sketches. I leaned over his shoulder and watched as he read one of my latest poems:
A Day of Reckoning
I begged and I pleaded, and I prayed.
I measured his breaths.
I tried to cower.
I counted the seconds until the fear became unbearable.
But that didn’t stop him from digging his claws deep into my soul.
He became all that he knew.
I carry the ache of scars.
They should send me into darkness,
yet they are the only reminder that I came out alive.