Total pages in book: 84
Estimated words: 76915 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 385(@200wpm)___ 308(@250wpm)___ 256(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 76915 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 385(@200wpm)___ 308(@250wpm)___ 256(@300wpm)
Truly see her.
This was no child. This was a woman. She was in the first blush of womanhood, true, but her curves were sinful enough to make me harden instantly with lust.
I smiled at her, suddenly relieved. This overwhelming wave of feelings was an easy problem to solve. She was a woman. Women loved me. All of them. I would take her and this off kilter feeling would disappear. The world would right itself again.
“Mishka! Go in the back,” her father said, practically wringing his hands. I liked the old man. But I was not ready to end this encounter. Not by a mile.
“Were you eavesdropping, little Mishka?” I asked, not releasing her hand. Her eyes widened, but she nodded. She was honest. Good girl. I liked that.
And for some reason, I was not surprised. I felt like I knew her already. Knew her through and through. That wasn’t possible though, was it?
“Yes, I was afraid.”
“Afraid?”
She looked down at our still connected hands then back up at me. Her beauty stunned me. As did her bravely spoken next words.
“I know who you are.”
Her eyes were colder now. I would have to woo her carefully, I realized. She was not falling over her feet to impress me. She also had no idea of how incredibly gorgeous she was.
Or how gorgeous I am, I thought with a wry twist of my mouth. All she saw was a killer. I would have to change that, and soon.
It would not be that hard, since I had no plans to kill her father.
“Barlov, why didn’t you just close the place? Sell it?” Andrei asked him.
“I wanted to leave something for Mishka.”
“You are leaving her debt. Our father does not tolerate such things, as you know,” Alexei said, sounding frustrated.
“I know. What I do not know is why I am still alive.”
The girl standing in front of me gasped. She realized in that moment, as we all did, that the sweet, portly shop keeper had never intended to live this long. He had expected us to kill him.
“We are not here to kill you, candy man,” Andrei muttered, looking annoyed. I checked Alexie’s face. As usual, it was impassive, revealing nothing. But I knew he felt the same way we did.
“We could never kill you, Barlov,” I said, watching the girls face. She sunk in relief. A strange emotion started circling in my chest. I wanted her to be happy, I realized. I needed to be the one to make her happy. I did not simply want to bed her. I wanted everything. “But our father will want something.”
“I have nothing,” the old man said, spreading his arms. I could see that he was ill. It was true. Other than the shop, he had nothing.
Other than his daughter.
“We will have to make a trade,” I said. “You give over the running of the shop for now. And your daughter…”
“Nyet, not my Mishka. You cannot have her,” he said bravely.
I stared at the man in consternation. Even though my intent was, in fact, to have her, I would never have said that openly. I wanted to keep her, not just tumble the girl. But I could say none of that.
“She will serve us as a maid. Nothing more,” I said, trying to look innocent. I even smiled. Barlov did not look convinced.
“Yes, papa. I can work off your debt. And someone else can run the shop while you go get treatment.”
She would have to work for a hundred years or longer to pay his debt, but she had no need to know that. My brothers both raised their eyebrows at me.
“I need to sell my violin. It will pay for your trip to that doctor in Switzerland. I am not going to argue with you papa!”
With that, the tempestuous beauty turned on her heel and walked away.
“You see who rules the roost.”
“We do,” Andrei said with a chuckle. He and Alexei looked at me. I nodded. They left the shop, leaving me alone with the father of my prey.
“She will work for me. I will protect her.”
“You will keep her safe,” he commanded me, as if he could read my thoughts. Who knew, perhaps he could. I wondered at his bravery. But I made the promise willingly.
“I will. I promise.”
“And she must have her violin!”
I nodded, then took a wad of cash from my pocket. I shoved it at the old man.
“Tell her you found it in an old jar. It will pay for your expenses for the immediate future. You will do as she asks and go abroad. I will cover the treatment when you get there. She does not have to sell her instrument.”
His eyes widened.
“Anton…” he said. He had not called me that since I was a boy. No one did, save my immediate family. Usually, I was simply Mr. Aslanov. Or sir. Or boss.