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)
Will my men stand for that? It’s always precarious at the top.
The worst-case scenario is that there’s a breach in the phone we haven’t foreseen. Some code or recoverable file that would allow Vale to bypass our security.
I grit my teeth, thinking of other Bratva organizations, ones that deal in guns, protection, hijacking, and dozens of other criminal enterprises.
At times, they appear less complex than data.
Almost thirty minutes pass before she returns. No one keeps me waiting like this.
It’s odd, but it increases my admiration for her.
“Took your time,” I say, standing.
“I’m at work, Mr. Volkov,” she replies, without a hint of fear or intimidation. It’s intoxicating. She’s intoxicating.
She moves closer to me when a patient is wheeled by. There’s hardly any space between us at all. It takes effort not to pull her to me. Or to step closer, feel her curvy body against mine.
She glances at my mouth again. Then down, as if to distract herself. She seems unwilling to speak until the patient has passed by. Like she’s nervous about what she might say. She steps back the moment she can.
“You were right about the V and the serial number,” she says. “But I spoke to security, and that’s still not enough to give you the phone. I’m sorry.”
I stare down at her. Waiting. Normally, my general demeanor is enough to get me what I want. But she’s unfazed. Liora folds her arms and looks up at me. The moment stretches. I try not to let my admiration show on my face.
“Is there anything else I can help you with?” she asks.
“That phone is my property,” I snap.
“You should file a police report,” she replies. “When you prove it’s yours, I’m sure the cops will give it back to you.”
Yeah, if Vale and his cronies don’t get here first.
“I really have to get back to work,” she says.
I grind my teeth.
“So…” She raises an eyebrow. “If we’re done?”
I’m never going to be done with you.
This is the sort of unhinged thought I can never say aloud. Hell, do I even believe it?
“I’ll return with proper documentation,” I grit out. Creating that shouldn’t take too long. It’s not like we keep official documents for the keys to our blackmail archive, besides I have an excellent forger on hand. “In the meantime, don’t give it to anyone else.”
“That’s not up to me,” she says. “And, for the record, you’re not my boss.”
I turn so she can’t see my smile. Not a smirk, a smile.
I’m grinning from ear to ear like a madman as I walk away. Like a king whose kingdom isn’t at risk of crumbling down.
CHAPTER 3
LIA
The next morning, I’m relieved to learn that Daniel Mercer survived surgery. In between my regular work, I find excuses to check on him more than I technically need to. I know it’s unhealthy. I know he has nothing to do with my baby brother, no connection except coincidence. He looks like him. He was involved in a car crash. That’s it. But I can’t turn off this big-sister instinct.
The day goes on as normal. Except for the Daniel thing… and Maksim. He won’t leave my mind. There were several moments where nothing was said, nothing happened, and yet it felt like a lot happened and a lot was said. It was in the little looks. His smirk. His dark eyes glittering for just a moment.
Every time I spoke to him without fear, he looked impressed. I get the feeling no one usually speaks to him like that. I tried to look him up online, but I didn’t get much. He’s a private man, listed only as the owner of several companies, including security, data protection, retail, and much more. There were only a few photos, where he ranges from intense to downright angry.
I’m too busy for boyfriends and, obviously, I don’t know the guy. The word boyfriend shouldn’t even be entering my head. This isn’t like the romances Mom used to read before grief shattered her. The quick and easy romances that make falling in love seem like a spell.
But I’m interested. Sue me.
When I ask the notoriously grumpy Dr. Simmons to talk to me with more respect a few hours into my shift, I’m not aware that Ms. Jackson is awake. I catch her smiling at me once Dr. Simmons leaves the room.
“Good on you, girl,” she says.
“It’s just one of those days,” I reply.
“Don’t you go justifying standing up for yourself.”
“The truth, Ms. Jackson?”
“Amira, please. And yes, the truth. Always!”
“I think I’m just prickly.”
“The best people are,” she says with a smile.
It comes from my mother and Evan. Evan’s gone, Dad was never in the picture, and now Mom isn’t a parent anymore. She feels like a patient.
Every so often throughout the day I think about how close Maksim’s body was to mine when that patient was wheeled behind us. It wouldn’t have taken much to lean forward the rest of the way, to feel his firm muscles pressing against me and…