Total pages in book: 104
Estimated words: 97634 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 488(@200wpm)___ 391(@250wpm)___ 325(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 97634 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 488(@200wpm)___ 391(@250wpm)___ 325(@300wpm)
I nodded and pushed myself up off the couch, and Nikolai did the same. “Are you working or working out?”
“I’m headed home for a while.” He gave me a sly look, and I chuckled, knowing exactly what he needed. To go see his new pretty young Italian wife.
I thought back to her father. Nikolai turned and looked at me, a dark eyebrow cocking. “What?”
“I don’t know.” I ran my hand over my nape. “I have a bad feeling about Marco Bianchi.”
All curiosity and amusement left Nikolai’s face as he visibly tensed. “Why? Did something happen?”
I hadn’t told him about Marco, about me stopping the fucker from hitting the youngest Bianchi girl. “I stopped him from hitting Amara's sister when I went to set up the marriage between you two.”
Nikolai’s brows furrowed, and I could feel the anger rising in him. We might both be psychotic killers, but we didn’t hit women, and we certainly didn’t abuse children.
“I know Amara has been worried about her sister, concerned that Marco would direct his anger at Claudia, especially since she told me Claudia has a mouth on her.”
“I’ll monitor the situation. We can’t kill him without starting a war, but he may just need another message sent that his actions won’t be tolerated now that we’re family.”
Nikolai grunted in agreement.
“What about Tatiana?”
Nikolai made a dismissive sound in the back of the throat. “She’s pissed with the suggestion that she visit with family in Moscow, but besides that, she’s too detached from that side. It'll be too much of a culture shock for her. She’s never even left the States. She’d have no one.”
Our younger sister, only eighteen years old, had been born and bred by our father to be what he thought was a “good Russian mafia wife.”
My father had loved none of his three children, but he’d been protective of Tatiana in a way someone was with a precious piece of property they wanted kept safe.
Protective in a ruthless way that had caused a man to lose his life because Leonid hadn’t like the fact that he’d looked at Tatiana.
She’d been groomed and molded from a young age to be timid and submissive. It was archaic, barbaric, but she was strong and went against the grain more than once.
We kept her as safe as we could from our father, not letting him hurt her physically, but his words had been like a whip, lashing her skin and opening up her tender flesh.
But she was also smart, knew to keep her head down and follow directions in order to stay alive. And now she didn’t have to worry about that shit cause Leonid was dead, and we’d never force her to marry anyone she didn’t want to. And no one would lay a fucking hand on her.
“I’m not going to force her to go if she doesn’t want to.”
“I figured as much,” Nikolai responded. “Besides, I’d rather keep her close so we can make sure she’s safe. I don’t trust those bastards in Moscow. For all we know, they were up Leonid’s ass trying to get in good with him. They might still do his dirty work, even though he’s buried six feet under.”
“Agreed.” It was settled. Tatiana would stay here. She was still in danger, but at least she'd be here with us where we could protect her.
“All right, brother.” Nikolai clapped me on the back before leaving.
I grabbed my duffel, took a shower, dressed in a suit, and headed to the abandoned warehouse where the underground cage fight training happened.
Couldn’t exactly teach someone how to kill a man with one hit in a normal gym.
Chapter 5
Claudia
I didn’t know how long it had been since Amara had married Nikolai Petrov. A couple weeks? Time really just melded together at this point.
And I was lonely. So alone that sometimes I just felt like a shell walking around.
My cheek burned, and my tears were locked down tight. I focused on the sound of the fire crackling beside me and inhaled the scent of the wood slowly getting eaten by the flames.
I refused to show how much I hurt, not just because my father hit me and that shit hurt, but because another piece of my heart had been chiseled away in the hope my father could love me.
So I kept my head down, my hands clasped in my lap, and used my hair as a curtain to shield me from everything around me.
“Mr. and Mrs. Petrov.”
The servant’s voice wouldn't pull me from my position if not for the fact that I knew they spoke because my sister was here for a visit.
I glanced up through the curtain of my hair to see Nikolai and Amara coming into the room, and for that moment I felt genuine happiness.
Mother stood over by the bar mixing a drink, and I lowered my head again, squeezing my eyes shut because I knew there was a mark on my face and Amara would notice.