Total pages in book: 75
Estimated words: 69662 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 348(@200wpm)___ 279(@250wpm)___ 232(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 69662 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 348(@200wpm)___ 279(@250wpm)___ 232(@300wpm)
It wouldn’t matter if he left it open anyway, because I knew he would be the main obstacle even if I was able to leave the room.
I closed my eyes and exhaled wearily before lifting my hand and rubbing my eyes. How could that be Kostya? How could that be the boy I’d grown up with, loved and laughed with… the one I knew would always protect me?
When I opened my eyes, I stared off across the room for a suspended moment, not able to think about what my next move would be. I didn’t want to be a damsel in distress, but I felt like that was exactly what I was.
I swept my gaze around the room, trying to find any little detail that might give me a hint of where I was. I looked at the dresser, and I felt my brows lower as a few familiar things caught my attention.
I pushed away from the window and went over to the piece of furniture, stopping and looking down at the top, this weird dread almost filling me as I reached out and picked up the little bottle of my perfume.
I noticed my hand shook as I held it in my palm, felt my heart race as I set the bottle back down. Seeing my perfume here made my anxiety rise because it meant he’d been in my bedroom before. Maybe he’d taken it tonight?
A cold sweat broke out across my forehead as I pulled open one of the top drawers and saw socks and briefs, and oversized white and dark T-shirts. Another drawer held sweats and I went through all of them, seeing nothing but Kostya’s clothes inside and feeling a little of that panic fade. I realized I’d expected him to have a stash of little treasures he’d swiped from my bedroom tucked inside the dresser.
I turned around to face the bed, then looked at a small bedside table that had one lone drawer. My feet were moving before I realized I was making my way toward it, and then I reached out and pulled it open.
One of my hands lifted to my mouth on its own, and I felt my eyes widen as I saw what was inside.
A pair of my panties.
Oh, that sick asshole.
I felt that fear and anxiety once more start to fade as I grabbed my underwear and curled my fingers around them, anger replacing every other emotion.
I turned and went to the dresser, grabbed the perfume, and with my breath sawing in and out of me, stormed to the door and wrenched it open.
I instantly saw Kostya across the hall, seated at a dining room table, the light above him illuminating all the weapons spread out on the top. Not only was he a pervert, he was obviously a maniac and weapon enthusiast.
He faced me, shadows teasing his features as we stared at each other. Then his gaze flickered to what I held, and he cocked an eyebrow as he looked back into my eyes.
“You sick bastard,” I found myself gritting out and moved down the hall, stopping right before I got into the archway that led into the great room. I hurled the perfume and panties in his direction as hard as I could.
The underwear only got halfway down the hall, but I was proud of myself when the perfume banged against the edge of the table. He looked down at where it lay, the top having been popped open, its contents spilling out across the scarred wood.
He glanced at me and cocked his brow again, the corner of his mouth lifting up. The asshole was amused.
My heart was thundering as it occurred to me I was missing something special. My hand went to my throat where I found… nothing but smooth skin. Oh, God. “Where is it?” I narrowed my eyes at him. “The Kostya I know might be gone and in its place… you. But he left me that locket and I want it back. Now.”
I was breathing so hard I thought maybe I’d pass out, but then I allowed myself some critical thinking, to focus on what was right in front of me. I could see his front door ten feet from where he sat. I could see the deadbolt was unlocked.
But I didn’t linger on it, not wanting to draw attention to it so he didn’t know what I was thinking.
“I assume it’s on your nightstand where you always leave it before you go to bed.”
I tightened my hands into fists. “What happened to you?” I said in an accusatory tone and shook my head, clenching my hands so tightly my nails dug into my palms. I would’ve hissed out in pain if I wasn’t so worked up, adrenaline rushing through me.
He didn’t answer but he did place his palms flat on the table and slowly rose, the chair scraping against the hardwood floor behind him.