Total pages in book: 187
Estimated words: 177397 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 887(@200wpm)___ 710(@250wpm)___ 591(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 177397 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 887(@200wpm)___ 710(@250wpm)___ 591(@300wpm)
68
ANDRIK
Anoushka implements a disappointed stance when I ask, “Were you there when he said that?”
“No.” Before I can dismiss her from my office with an arrogance that would have seen my bottom paddled when I was a child, she adds, “But I asked Zakhar about it after she left, and he confirmed what she said. Zoya’s mother and Zakhar’s mom know each other. From what I can tell, they’ve interacted numerous times.”
My silence agitates her to no end.
“Andrik—”
“I will look into it,” I interrupt, willing to say anything for a moment of peace.
My head won’t shut down.
My heart won’t shut down.
I’m tired and angry. That is a lethal combination. It is not the time to mess with me.
“But for now, I need to do this.” I fan my hand over the files I had couriered to our new location this morning. “I need to find a wife who can birth the next generation of the Dokovic reign.” A federation-approved heir.
I fucking hate myself. I hated myself last night when I tried to push Zoya into admitting that she lied about being pregnant by suggesting an abortion. And I hate myself now for acting like her fertility issues are the only reason we can’t be together.
There are far more pressing issues as to why I shouldn’t think about her the way I do, though none I am willing to share.
“There are ways Zoya can get pregnant.”
“No!”
Anoushka pushes like Mikhail does because she knows she will never face the wrath of my gun. “She donated eggs years—”
“No!”
“There could still be some available to thaw. Or you could use a donor.”
“No. No. No!” I shout, losing my cool. “I don’t want to have a baby with Zoya. I don’t want to father her offspring. I want to pretend she doesn’t exist. That’s all I fuckin’ want.”
Because that is the only way I will be able to keep my promise to Zakhar.
I told him he wouldn’t lose me like he will his mother in two short weeks. Acting like Zoya can be a part of our life will only end one way—with my death. That’s how much it torments me. That’s how much it hurts knowing how badly I crave her but can’t have her.
“An annulment is being filed as we speak. She will be out of our hair by the end of the week.”
My self-loathing slips into the abyss when a croaky voice outside my office door says, “Then I guess I better go pack. I don’t want to outstay my welcome.”
Zoya pegs a USB drive at my head, her aim perfect. It smacks me in the brow hard enough to sting before landing on my lap.
“I knew you wouldn’t believe me, so I got proof.” She walks away before something forces her to turn back around. “And by the way, it is still classed as cheating when you’re fooling around on your mistress.” She glares at me like she hates me. “Especially when you told her that you hadn’t been with anyone since her.”
This time, she leaves without a backward glance. It is a struggle to stay in my seat. I want to react like I did last night. I want to bend her over my knee and spank her sass right out of her. But that will make me as unhinged as the depraved thoughts that fill my head when I load Zoya’s USB drive into my laptop and fire up the first bit of footage.
It is from a hidden surveillance device Konstantine placed in Zakhar’s room at my request when I realized I was only being shown what the federation wanted me to see.
This footage shows Dina standing across from Zakhar, intimidating him with a stern stare.
“What was our agreement, Zakhar?”
His little lip quivers as he replies to her snapped question. “That I’m not to tell anyone about my mommy.”
“Because?”
Tears gloss his eyes. “Because then she will have to go to heaven.”
Dina moves closer, hovering over him with her tall height. “Is that what you want, Zakhar? Do you want your mother to die?”
“No,” he answers with a sob.
Dina’s composure doesn’t alter in the slightest. She remains as stern as a head nun at an all-girl’s school campus. “Then do as we practiced. Who is your mother, Zakhar?”
“I don’t know,” he answers, clearly ashamed he has to hide her identity.
“Where did you live before you came here?”
“I don’t know,” he murmurs again.
“Who brought you here?”
His eyes flick up for two heart-thrashing seconds, peering into the eyes of his abuser, before he shrugs. “I don’t know.”
I can’t see Dina’s face, though I can picture her smile. Victory is rife even through a hidden surveillance device.
After patting Zakhar’s head like he is an obedient dog, she shifts to her right before saying, “He won’t break cover. I trained him well.”
As the footage ends, I shoot my eyes to Konstantine. “Find out who she was speaking to.”