Total pages in book: 117
Estimated words: 109286 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 546(@200wpm)___ 437(@250wpm)___ 364(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 109286 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 546(@200wpm)___ 437(@250wpm)___ 364(@300wpm)
“I guess?”
Regan goes over to the bed and picks up the belt. We wait. She runs the belt through her fingers and then juggles the buckle end in her hand, perhaps testing its bite.
“Wrap the small end around your hand and strike with your whole arm,” Vasily instructs. This is surreal. Vasily is giving Regan directions on how to best beat him. Looking around, I spy the sofa and head toward it. This whole scene seems like something out of a bad art house drama. Regan does as he instructs, winding the soft end around her hand. She whips the belt up and down a couple of times. I think I’m flinching, but Vasily is not. Her arm pulls back, and she whips it forward. We all hear the whistle as the belt flies through the air. Vasily doesn’t move an inch, and the buckle falls harmlessly. Regan tosses the belt onto the bed.
“Live with the guilt,” she spits out. “I don’t absolve you.”
“You were not to go on sale,” Vasily says. “You were to sit in a safe house until Daniel could come for you, but . . .” He pauses. “Something went wrong. Someone I trusted betrayed me.”
This is too much for Regan to hear. She collapses onto the sofa next to me.
CHAPTER TWENTY
REGAN
I’ve gone from pure happiness to pure misery all over again. Daniel—wonderful, amazing Daniel, who I’ve fallen hard for, my savior from the brothel—is working with one of the men who sold me.
Daniel says to trust him. I do. But it’s hard. Every time I see the new man, I see my apartment and remember being tied up and duct-taped so I can’t scream. I see Yury’s face as he grunts and sweats over me.
But Daniel killed Yury. At least there’s that.
And now this one is backtracking.
I look at the big blond man’s face. He’s waiting, still kneeling on the floor and staring straight ahead. It’s like he expects me to change my mind and say, Oh yes, actually, I do feel like beating you. Like he expects me to pick up the belt and go to town on him suddenly.
Like he expects me to sink to their level.
I won’t.
“So I wasn’t supposed to go on sale?” My voice is dull, even to my own ears. “That’s a big fucking mistake to happen, don’t you think?”
Daniel’s hand brushes my cheek. “You okay?”
Instinct tells me to push him away, to protect myself, but for the first time in a long time, I ignore it and lean into his touch. If I can’t trust Daniel, I have nothing. “I’m okay.”
“You must have restitution,” the blond man says, interrupting us.
I look over at him, and he hasn’t moved. His face—harder and somehow crueler than Daniel’s ever could be—is impassive. He’s still waiting.
“What’s your name?” I ask.
“I am Vasily Petrovich of the Petrovich Bratva,” he rattles off. His voice is one of the deepest I have ever heard, his accent slight but familiar—and hated.
“Well, Vasily . . .” I think for a moment. I look over at Daniel, and he looks as uncomfortable as I do at Vasily’s display. “I forgive you.”
The big Russian stiffens. “You cannot forgive me without recompense.”
“Nope,” I say, denying him what he wants. “I forgive you. Let’s move on.” I don’t mean it, of course, but I know that it’ll be a bigger mindfuck to him than my taking the belt and whipping him. I’m guessing pain makes more sense to him than mercy, but it’s not mercy I’m offering, not really. I’m dicking with his mind. I don’t even feel guilty about it.
Vasily doesn’t move.
I get up from my seat and stand in front of the big, frightening Russian, who is still kneeling on the ground, waiting for a beating that’s never going to arrive. Instead, I stick my hand into his face. “Shake on it? We can start fresh from here.”
He recoils from my hand, which surprises me.
Daniel moves forward then, tugging me away. Maybe he’s guessed my game and doesn’t approve. I don’t blame him—it’s a bit like teasing a wounded bear. “Vasily’s not a handshaker,” he says to me. “Doesn’t like to be touched.”
“Oh.” Oh, the ammunition this gives me. “All right,” I say sweetly. I won’t forget this little nugget of information.
Daniel moves to the far side of the bed and picks up his gun, checking the clip and beginning to arm himself all over again. He casts a quick glance at Vasily, who hasn’t moved, and exasperation crosses his face.
“Get up, man,” he tells Vasily. “You’re weirding me the fuck out. Regan doesn’t want to beat you.”
Vasily looks rather disgruntled, which makes me happy. Slowly, he gets to his feet and returns to his full height. Daniel is tall, but this man is a giant. I’d forgotten he was so big and scary. And he wanted me to whip him? Strange man. I edge a little closer to Daniel, heading for my own gun, but Daniel pulls it out of my reach before I can grab it. He only raises an eyebrow at me, as if asking who I intend to shoot.