Total pages in book: 131
Estimated words: 126682 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 633(@200wpm)___ 507(@250wpm)___ 422(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 126682 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 633(@200wpm)___ 507(@250wpm)___ 422(@300wpm)
I suppress a groan. “We will talk about this. Later. For now—”
“Yes?”
She looks at me expectantly, innocently almost, as we walk to the elevator. I’m too fucking tired for the stairs.
“What would you say if I asked you to stay here?”
She studies me sideways. “As in permanently?”
I push the button to call down the elevator. “Anya and I like having you here. Claire too. That’s to say if you feel the same.”
“Let me think about it,” she says with a ladylike nod when I hold the door for her.
I smile. “Whenever you’re ready.”
On the second floor, she steps out ahead of me. “Don’t be too hard on her.” She turns to face me. “Not tonight.”
“I won’t,” I lie.
Because I’m going to demand some answers.
Because Anya nearly died.
Fuck.
She killed Raphael Morelli.
I need a drink.
“Nighty night,” Livy says, giving me a finger wave.
“Get some sleep, Livy.”
I watch her walk away as I head to the bedroom, my thoughts still with the Morellis. Michele Morelli’s men are spread thin around the city. In Raphael’s greedy quest for money and power, he got most of them killed. When Michele learns of his son’s death, he’d be wise to pull out. In any event, I’m going after him. Never allow a man with a vendetta to live. Besides, I made an oath on the day of my wedding, and I’ll keep my promise to wipe out their whole organization.
Anya sits in our bed with her back resting against the headboard, still nursing Claire when I enter.
The sight of them sends my heart racing. Blood fires through my veins, heating my skin when I think again and again how close I came to losing them. The terrifying thought plays on a never-ending loop in my mind.
Anya watches me with trepidation as I loosen the noose of my tie. She knows what’s to come.
“How do you feel?” I ask, stopping at my side of the bed.
She looks up at me with those big, whisky-colored eyes. “I’m fine.”
I take two painkillers from the bottle on my nightstand and hold them to her on my palm.
“I’m fine,” she says again, not taking the pills.
I go around the bed and leave them on her nightstand. “There’s no point in being hard-headed. You have nothing to prove, least of all to me.” I aim for humor. “Everyone knows you’re as tough as nails.”
She raises a brow. “Is that the kettle calling the pot black?”
My gaze is drawn to the beautiful little girl in her arms that I consider every bit my own. “How’s she doing?”
“Better now that her tummy is full. She’s so tired.” She stares at Claire with a tender expression. “She fell asleep in my arms.”
I shrug out of my jacket and let it drop where it falls. “We better let her sleep here with us tonight.”
The sidelong glance Anya shoots me is grateful. “That’s a good idea.”
I don’t say it’s to make our baby feel safe after the trauma she suffered. I also don’t say that it’s more for my benefit to keep both of them close to me. I’m not letting them out of my sight.
“I know you’re tired,” I start. “But before we get some sleep, you owe me answers.”
“The bomb was built by an explosives expert your hacker put me in contact with,” she says smoothly. “You once told me you left nothing to chance, that you consider every possible scenario and outcome when you develop a strategy.” She shrugs. “So do I.”
“You anticipated that Raphael would kidnap our daughter?”
“I anticipated that he’d corner me at one stage or another to torture me for whereabouts of his wife.”
“You don’t know where Elena is.”
“No, but I know her new name.”
And it’s not hard to pull flight records and find a location when you have a name.
“But he thought I knew,” she says.
It’s not lost on me that she doesn’t use his name—Raphael.
She lifts her chin. “Even if I knew, I’d never tell him.”
I study her with disbelief and awe competing in my chest. “So you had a bomb built.”
“When plugged into a computer, the explosive unit in the USB key casing activates. A green light shows when it’s ready. It’s programmed to detonate with the push of a designated key.”
I narrow my eyes. “You had to know exactly when Raphael was going to punch that key.”
“That was easy.”
“Oh yeah?”
“The key was the last letter of the password.”
I’m curious. “What was the password?”
“Raphael Morelli.”
Awe wins hands down. How’s that for irony? My girl is a fucking genius. That I already know. However, “If you ever—”
“Don’t make threats,” she says gently. “Not unless you really mean them.”
“Oh, I very much mean this. I’m going to paddle your ass so hard I’ll break skin. You’re never to put your life in danger again, do you understand?”
“So only you are allowed to sacrifice your life?”