Total pages in book: 93
Estimated words: 93463 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 467(@200wpm)___ 374(@250wpm)___ 312(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 93463 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 467(@200wpm)___ 374(@250wpm)___ 312(@300wpm)
I’ve seen too much to believe in fairy tales.
Once in a while, you see a family that genuinely loves each other. A couple that thrives on real affection. But that only works if they live by a code entirely their own.
That’s not my fate. I’ve already met the one man who could’ve loved me like that… or so I thought.
And now? I’ve seen my future fiancé twice. The first time, he arrived with an entourage—wealthy, slick, polished. He looked more like a model on the cover of a finance magazine than a man about to be married.
He’s rich, no doubt about that. I’ll have everything I could possibly want—except, of course, the only thing I really need.
He came with sleek, black SUVs, the kind that scream power and protection. But I didn’t show how impressed I was. And that pissed him off. He scowled at me, clearly expecting me to swoon.
Not happening. That’s not who I am.
The second visit, he took me to a restaurant so exclusive he rented out the entire first floor. Some people might’ve been flattered. I wasn’t. He treated the servers like dirt. Sent his steak back three times. Complained about the air quality.
Who does that?
And my brothers are marrying me off to him.
He’s not hideous. He’s actually pretty attractive. Strong, tall, fit, I guess. But he barely looks at me. His voice is nasally, and he never shuts up about finance and politics. It’s exhausting.
Tomorrow should be a celebration, but instead, it feels like I’m being led to the executioner’s block. I stare at the dress as if it’s a pair of handcuffs.
Sigh. I’m being dramatic. He’s not… that bad.
But he isn’t Seamus either.
I hear a soft sound at the window.
I freeze. One tap. Then another.
My stomach plummets. I see the flash of a hand.
My room is on the second floor. Who the hell…?
Whoever it is had to get past cameras, then scale the side of the damn house.
Heart pounding, I walk to the window. I open it just a crack. The smart thing would be to call my brothers, but something stops me.
“That’s my girl.”
My chest constricts, and my body heats. Anger flares, but it’s tangled with something else—something dangerous. Something like… hope.
Seamus?
“What are you doing here?” I hiss. “They’ll fucking kill you.”
“Language,” he whispers.
No. We can’t fall back into old rhythms. I can’t let him drag me back into his orbit.
And then—he’s there. I help tug him through my window and into my room.
Seamus. All six feet of hard, masculine beauty. Blue eyes even brighter than I remember. That messy hair, dimpled cheek. That jaw.
Those lips, god, those lips I’ve wanted on every inch of my body. The ink on his arms. The Irish lilt in his voice that still unravels me.
The room isn’t big enough for the two of us.
I slam the window shut behind him. Thank god, we have no cameras in the bedrooms.
“You can’t be here.”
“I am,” he says simply, but his smile is wrong. Distant. Guarded.
Is he angry? At me?
“Why are you here, Seamus?” I snap, tossing my head. “You left me.”
“Left you?” he growls, prowling closer. “Zoya. Jesus, baby. I was arrested.”
His voice is a hush, and I hear footsteps in the hall. I press my ear to the door—then silence.
We’re safe… for now.
My heart beats so fast I’m dizzy.
He was… arrested?
“I was in jail,” he says, and now that he’s closer to me, I can see the scabs on his neck and shoulders, the haunted look in his eyes. Russian prisons are notorious for their brutality. My stomach plummets.
He was in… he was in prison?
“I’m getting married tomorrow,” I whisper, shaking my head, trying to push him out of my mind. “Whatever we had—it was never real. You orchestrated all of it.”
But I’m only whispering what I’ve feared. I want him to prove me wrong.
“Me?” He steps closer, his eyes dark. “You betrayed me.”
“What?” I throw my hands up. “What the hell are you talking about, you idiot?”
He growls, and suddenly I’m on fire.
I thought I was over him. I thought I was free. But he’s here, warm and real, and my heart aches.
“I know you’re getting married. Do you have any fucking idea how hard it is to break out of prison?”
He broke out of prison. For me?
Oh my god. That’s why he disappeared. Why he didn’t answer. Why he vanished week after week, month after month.
“Why?” I ask, even though I know it’s pointless. He could’ve done anything, just like my brothers.
“Doesn’t matter,” he growls. “I never left you. I tried to come back. I couldn’t.” He’s standing too close, his hand wrapped around the back of my neck in that possessive way that makes me melt. “And now you’re marrying someone else.”
“Do you think I want this?” I snap. “Do you think I want to marry this pompous asshole?”