Total pages in book: 87
Estimated words: 83195 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 416(@200wpm)___ 333(@250wpm)___ 277(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 83195 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 416(@200wpm)___ 333(@250wpm)___ 277(@300wpm)
“She will dance,” I’d said.
“What?” Anya, my sister, had asked, confused.
“For payment, she will dance. For her to dance, she charges upward of a hundred thousand. She will dance for your men tonight.”
Cinita’s silver eyes found mine as if knowing I was speaking about her. And right then and there was the moment I knew I would kill for her.
The look in her eyes was so sad, and I fundamentally understood sad. I thrived in its misery. But fuck. They were empty too. Soulless. Devoid of any other emotion. All her messages over the past few months were cute and bubbly, and it’s why I never replied.
And there she stood, being controlled by another man.
“Do you own her?” Anya had asked.
“She is owned by many, slutty ballerina that she is.” And Cinita’s silver gaze dropped away from mine.
“Fine, take her to the stage.” Anya waved off the current performer. I’m sure not even my sister took much note of the ballerina. Of what kind of hold she already had over me.
I stepped toward Cinita and held out my elbow to her. The man she’d come with wouldn’t dare argue with me taking her, considering it was my auction and event. With a smile, she threaded her arm through mine and accepted my offer, and a silent agreement passed between us. I would protect her.
I took her to the stage, played the music, and she danced. To say I couldn’t take my eyes off her was an understatement.
It was impossible not to watch her.
Later that night, she was gone. Leaving one simple message.
Find me.
And I did. I found her. But as she stands in front of me now, telling me to leave, I wonder why I did.
Was it those silver eyes and that raven-black hair that did me in? Or was it the loss of her touch?
“Don’t find me this time. Promise me?” She steps up to me, her hands going to my shoulders. Her lips are inches from mine.
“You asked me to find you,” I remind her.
“And I may ask you again, but don’t, okay?”
I should be angry. She wasted my time, but I can’t be angry with her. I would do it all again.
“Why?” I ask.
She takes another step closer.
“I’ll probably end up in the same situation, no denying that.” She pauses, and I can feel her breath on my face. “But I need to get myself out of it. Otherwise…”
“You want me to let you die?” I ask incredulously.
She leans forward now, her lips touching mine in a whisper of a kiss.
“I think, if we’d met again under different circumstances…”
“You’d still be the same,” I say, and she shrugs.
“You’re probably right.” She once told me it was the high she was chasing; the dance, the feeling of having all those powerful men watching her, wanting her. And once she was in, she couldn’t escape.
She was stuck.
I tried to save her. But she wouldn’t allow me to.
“Kiss me, Alek.” I don’t move a muscle. She’s asking for a goodbye kiss, but it’s not something I’m willing to give.
“I could kill them all,” I tell her. She lifts her hand and rubs it over my shaved head. It’s spiky now, longer than usual.
“I have no doubt that you are the most dangerous of them all, Alek.” She leans in again and gives me another kiss. She tastes like cherries, and it takes everything in me not to pull her into me and take her.
I won’t do that, though. I will not use her as others have used her her entire life.
She drops her hands and steps back.
“Don’t find me,” she orders softly.
I clench my jaw but say nothing as I turn and walk away.
I’d flown from New York to Russia to find her. I left my sister in a lurch, leaving her to run our business and auctions alone, all for a woman.
Yet I’ll return empty-handed.
CHAPTER 2
Lena
Present Day
A man stands before me. I don’t know who he is, but he’s staring at me. He has gloves on his hands and watches me intently.
“Do you know him?” Julie asks as she sits next to me on the floor. My chocolate-colored hair falls in my face, and I push it back, mimicking her stretches as we cool down. I don’t necessarily need to do them, but I enjoy it, and it helps me unwind after a show.
“No, do you?” I ask, not looking away from his intense green-eyed stare.
“It’s not me he’s staring at,” she points out. It doesn’t escape me that she didn’t deny or confirm she might know who he is. “He’s kind of hot in a he-might-kill-you-and-dismember-you way.” She laughs, but I get that exact feeling. “Anyway, I have to go check on the other dancers. Don’t get murdered in the time I’m gone.”
She stands and does one more quick stretch before she turns and walks off, leaving me sitting on the floor. As I continue my own stretching, I consider the intensity with which he’s studying me, and think that’s a lot easier said than done.