Total pages in book: 163
Estimated words: 157491 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 787(@200wpm)___ 630(@250wpm)___ 525(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 157491 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 787(@200wpm)___ 630(@250wpm)___ 525(@300wpm)
As the cab pulls to a stop at the front door, I realize I don’t have a key. The lights are on, though. I barely reach the portico before the door swings open, Sergei’s bulk obstructing the light spilling from the hallway.
“Kolya is not home,” he states, like the Russian version of the Black Knight from Monty Python. You shall not pass.
“Will he be home soon? I need to see him.”
He shakes his head and mutters, “Nyet.”
“So you just want me to stand out here in the rain?” I’m so not in the mood to deal with anyone else’s bullshit. I have enough of my own. “Because I’m sure he’d love to find out I’ve had to book into a hotel.”
“Pakhan will not love to find you here at all.”
“Thank you for your opinion, but I don’t seem to remember marrying you, so if you wouldn’t mind getting out of my way,” I grate out, “that’d be fabulous.”
And he does. With an unhappy grunt.
“Any idea when he’ll be back?” I ask as I turn, but Sergei is already disappearing through the office door. I’m not used to people disliking me for no good reason, and I’m not usually one for confrontation, but I seem to have reached my daily limit for bullshit when I find myself pushing on the door. “What is your problem?” I’m not yelling. Or maybe I am. “What did I ever do to make you dislike me?”
Sergei whirls around with more speed than a man of his bulk should possess. “You are no good for Kolya,” he mutters. “You bring him too much pain.”
“What are you talking about? He’s happy with me! I love him.”
“Happy now, but for how long, when before—”
“Before, we were just children.”
“His life, he molded for you while he mourned for you. He changed his destiny.”
With love, one can live even without happiness. His tattoo, is this what Sergei is talking about?
“That makes no sense,” I retort. “What happened between us was over in a matter of weeks. How would that have changed him? Changed the course of his life?”
It changed mine. The echoing thought feels like a cold wind around my neck. I married Tom, and look at how that ended.
“He ended things between us,” I return, adamant. “He broke my heart. I didn’t break his, so stop looking at me like I’m something you’ve stepped in.”
“You see only what you want to see. Only your own problems,” he mutters, turning his back on me.
I leave the doorway feeling shivery with shock and aching with confusion. I find myself wandering into the kitchen.
“Lady Isla.” Julia’s greeting is warm, her expression faltering at what she sees in my expression. “Come and sit down.” Her jacket buttons are half fastened as she pulls out a chair at the kitchen table. I cross the room but don’t sit.
“Do you have any idea where Niko is? Mr. Vanyin, I mean?” Her expression turns wary, and she gives a slow shake of her head.
“I don’t. But let me get you a glass of water. You look pale.”
“I don’t need water.” I clamp my hand on her forearm before she can move. “Please, Julia. I’ve had some bad news. Van isn’t answering his phone, and Sergei has just confirmed my suspicions that he hates me.”
“Sergei is like an old woman.” She frowns, her gaze briefly darting to the door behind me. “But I can’t help you. I wish I could. I just know he left late this afternoon.”
Releasing her arm, I press my hand to my mouth. “You’re sure there wasn’t something he said that you might’ve overheard? Instructions to the driver? Anything?”
“I don’t want to lose my job,” she whispers, suddenly looking afraid.
“I won’t tell anyone. I just have to know.” My heart beats, bump, bump, bump as time seems to pass as though stuck in glue. Julia’s tongue darts out to wet her lips, her gaze sliding again to the open doorway.
“I don’t know what it is or where it is,” she says quickly, quietly. “I just know the place as Thornbeck.”
My hand grips the back of the chair as my legs turn to jelly, my heart plummeting to my shoes.
43
Isla
“You know, when I said I could help you with murder, I didn’t mean my own.”
Staring out of the car window, I watch the dark landscape as it rushes by. Fields. Houses. A fancy-looking pub. An evening in Surrey is not what I was looking for.
“No one’s getting murdered tonight.” I see myself in the window then with dark-painted lips and a cascade of light hair. It’s my face, my hair, my shoulders. Yet I feel entirely unlike myself.
“Are you sure you know your husband?”
Feeling the weight of Griffin’s regard, I turn. “I thought I did.” Or that I was coming to understand him.
“He’s going to fucking kill me,” he mutters under his breath.