Total pages in book: 58
Estimated words: 57121 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 286(@200wpm)___ 228(@250wpm)___ 190(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 57121 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 286(@200wpm)___ 228(@250wpm)___ 190(@300wpm)
“It’s like mixed martial arts, except you wear a kimono jacket. You can only do certain submissions. It’s great. There’s a whole world of intricacies within each position. It’s one of the only things that allows me to completely forget about…”
“About what?”
“Everything,” he says, looking at me with his penetrating, dark gray eyes, reminding me that this man truly is terrifying.
“It sounds interesting,” I reply. “Being able to lose yourself in something like that.”
He chews his lasagna, making a noise of agreement.
“What about TV?” I ask. “Or are you too busy reading your big, important non-fiction books?”
He swallows, grinning. He loves it when I lightly tease him. I love it too. It makes me feel special, as if I’m the only person in the world who gets to do this.
“Wait, let me guess,” I say quickly. “You like dry documentaries about war and the financial system and stuff like that.”
He shakes his head, still grinning. “Sitcoms. Any kind. I put them on before I fall asleep. I like the background noise. It’s like listening to regular lives. I know that’s false. I know there’s nothing regular about them. But it helps me to switch off, reminds me there are people out there watching the same shows, who don’t have to worry about the dark things I do.”
“But do you have to worry about it?” I ask. “You don’t have to do this job, do you?”
He frowns. “It’s complicated, Lia.”
“Maybe explain it to me then.”
He lowers his gaze. “That’s not what men in my position do.” A pause. “How’s your mother?”
“Talk about whiplash.”
“Oh?” He smiles, but it feels a little forced now. “I thought I was suavely changing the subject.”
As we eat, I talk to him about my mom. I end up telling him how she was obsessed with ballet when I was a teenager. “She’d never done it before in her life. And when we were little, she was too busy keeping her head above water for hobbies. But then I got a part-time job and started helping with expenses. She’d go once a week, but she’d practice at home too. It was amazing seeing her light up like that.”
I get choked up, quickly swallowing a big mouthful of food to calm myself down.
Soon, we’re done. He gives me a look that implies a whole lot. It’s like he wants to bring our texting fantasies into reality. I feel that familiar tingle in my core. I want to let it sweep me up. Throw myself at him. Not worry about anything else.
But I’m tired, and the conversation about his work has reminded me of how confusing this still is.
When I yawn, he stands, inclining his head. “This was great,” he says.
“It was.” I stand quickly. “But wait a sec, don’t you remember I have to walk you out?”
He smirks, offering me his arm. I walk him to the entranceway. He turns, grabs my shoulders, and kisses me gently at first. I’m swept along in the heat of the kiss, my heart thundering, my instincts screaming to just let myself go.
When his hands glide to my hips, I press against his chest. I’m not sure how many times I can do this.
He steps back. Stares down at me. Breathing hard and looking ready to take me.
“Soon, Lia,” he says huskily, pushing past me.
Our bodies brush against each other as he walks to the door.
CHAPTER 16
MAKSIM
The next day, Anton, Nikolai, and I are sitting in a Vale-owned restaurant. I wave at the CCTV camera, letting a shit-eating grin spread across my face. Vale hasn’t made any additional moves since raiding our businesses. That’s because of this intimidation. He knows better than to poke the bear too many times.
I feel my gunshot wound itch, as if reminding me that blood has to be paid for with blood.
“Tell me how they got him out of the hospital,” I say, looking at Anton.
My tone is gruff. Nikolai and Anton exchange a glance. I almost want to snap at my brother. He’s been having woman troubles for a while now, making him anxious, unlike his usual self. And he’s going to judge me for it?
“We still don’t know,” Anton says, looking down at the table. It’s not often he looks frightened. “They were careful. No signs. He left. Or they took him. There were footsteps outside the window. But what does this mean? People walk places all the time.”
“Does it matter?” Nikolai asks. “He’s done the damage.”
“It matters because…” He reminds a beautiful, courageous, kind, selfless woman of her younger brother. “Because he’s a human goddamn being. We don’t hurt innocents.”
“We didn’t hurt him,” he says defensively.
“We keep looking,” Anton replies.
“Or we accept that with half the key, he can’t do anything. He would’ve done it by now, surely.”
“Why do you think we’re sitting here?” I snap. “Why do you think I’m smiling at the cameras like an idiot? People can’t think they can step to us, take what’s ours, without repercussions.”