Total pages in book: 105
Estimated words: 103656 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 518(@200wpm)___ 415(@250wpm)___ 346(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 103656 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 518(@200wpm)___ 415(@250wpm)___ 346(@300wpm)
“I know that I’m getting there. Anyway, how is Babushka?”
“You’re changing the subject.”
“Can you tell me?” I ask in an innocent tone.
A long sigh comes from the other end. “She’s getting old, but she’s not suffering or anything. She’s more energetic than me, actually.”
I smile as relief washes over me. “That’s good to know.”
“Call me occasionally.”
“I thought that was dangerous?”
“It is, but I would rather hear you’re still alive once in a while.”
“Will do. Can I talk to Mike?”
“One moment.” His voice sounds far from the phone. “Mike, it’s Sasha.”
A boyish squeal comes through the phone before his short breaths follow. “Sasha, Sasha, is it really you, Sasha?”
My shoulders relax, and I soften my voice. “Hi, my love. I miss you.”
“Miss you more than to the moon and back then up again, miss you, miss youuu, Sasha.”
“Not more than me. I want to eat you up.”
“What do you mean? I’m not candy!” He laughs, and I laugh, too. “When are you coming back?”
“I’m sorry, but I can’t right now, Mishka. I’m in a faraway place and won’t be able to come home for a while.”
“As far as the moon?”
“No, but it’s hard to come back right now.”
“But you will one day, right?” There’s a tremor in his little voice, and I want to kick myself for putting it there.
“Of course! I’m doing this to keep you safe, but one day, I’ll come back and never leave, okay?”
“Okay,” he says with little energy. “Here’s Papa.”
I look up to fight the tears and my eyes meet icy ones.
Kirill stands at the top of the stairs, leaning against the railing with a hand in his pocket.
Shit.
Fuck.
Please don’t tell me he heard the entire thing?
No, I made sure no one was there when I started talking to Uncle, so he couldn’t have…
I try not to be jerky when I hang up the burner phone and slip it into my gun holster. “Were you looking for me?”
His expression is neutral, but that’s by no means a good thing. I’ve learned that Kirill hides his emotions, or whatever emotions he has left, frighteningly well.
You can never see his anger or contemplation when he so successfully tucks them where no one can see.
When he doesn’t answer, I walk to the stairs, summoning a sense of ease that’s opposite the anxiousness knotting my stomach.
Every step feels as if I’m dragging a dead body.
“Boss…”
“Who were you talking to?” His question is casual enough, but an edge lurks beneath it.
“No one—”
“Don’t fucking lie to me.”
The commanding tone of his voice renders me speechless.
It takes me a few moments to summon my courage and whisper, “Since when have you been listening?”
“Why is that important with regards to divulging the identity of the person you called?” He takes one step toward me. “I’m not asking because I can’t find out on my own. I’m asking to give you a chance to tell me yourself.”
My heartbeat thunders in erratic intervals, not allowing me to think properly. It doesn’t help that Kirill is approaching me in even, steady strides that mess with my line of thinking.
For the first time in a long time, I’m acutely aware of how big and imposing he is. There’s a predatory quality to the way he walks. It’s similar to a fire that’s about to burn everything in its wake.
When he stops in front of me, it’s no different than being sucked into another person’s orbit and having the air stolen from me.
He looks down at me with his freezing eyes, and I’m slammed by the difference in our height. Only now, he seems to have gotten bigger and taller.
Intimidating.
Dangerous.
“Who was it, Sasha?”
The more I stare into his unforgiving eyes, the dryer my mouth gets. The harsher and deeper they swallow me into their depths.
“Last chance.”
One second passes.
Two.
Three.
He reaches for me, and I squeal when he wraps his arm around my waist. In the beginning, I thought he was done with verbal intimidation and was moving to the physical, but he doesn’t pull me to him or shake me as I expected him to.
Instead, his hand reaches for my gun holster. I only realize what he’s doing when it’s too late. Kirill grabs hold of my burner phone with baffling ease, then steps back to inspect it.
Every cell in my body goes on alert, and I leap up to grab it, but he effortlessly keeps it out of reach.
With the phone in the air, he stares at me with his cold gaze. The one that every member of the organization and even his household dreads to see.
“Please give it back,” I implore, my voice shaking.
“I’ve given you multiple chances to divulge what you’re hiding from me. My patience in itself is a chance. But since you refuse to take it, I have to resort to this method.”
“So I’m not allowed privacy?” I ask in a biting tone.