Total pages in book: 88
Estimated words: 83818 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 419(@200wpm)___ 335(@250wpm)___ 279(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 83818 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 419(@200wpm)___ 335(@250wpm)___ 279(@300wpm)
"As of this afternoon, I'm looping you into biometric feedback,” Aleks says with a grim smile. "Welcome to the family," he says gruffly. "You're one of us."
"Biometric what?" I ask.
Ollie speaks up behind me. "One of Aleksandr's jobs is to check and track the biometric feedback of all of us at all times. It's how we know where everybody is and if they're alright. He's done it forever. Consider it a compliment."
Polina eyes me weirdly, and that hurts my heart because she was always the friendliest to me, at least back when I was here before.
"Do we have eyes on him?" Ollie says, handing me a menu. I don't need anyone to tell me that he's talking about my brother. That much is clear.
"No. Remember how easily he faked his death," Mikhail says. "Even his closest rivals thought he was dead."
"Are we still sure he isn't?" Ollie says.
I bite my lip, unsure of what I can say that won’t sign my own death sentence. As soon as my brother finds out I'm getting married to one of them, he'll come after me.
"Now, children,” Ekaterina Romanova says with a smile. “We're not talking anymore about Carlos Carerra, the cartel, or anything that doesn't have to do with the wedding," Ollie's mother says. "I've heard you like a good meal, Renata. Do you have any preference on your dress?"
Thank God.
I never thought about things like this. While I love clothes, and I love getting dressed, I just shrug my shoulders. "Well, I… I'm not sure this is an occasion to celebrate," I say. The room goes silent.
Mikhail narrows his eyes at me. "This will be something that unites us, Renata," he says softly. "You should think about that."
Ollie clutches his cup of coffee. The waitress comes over, and I smile sweetly. "I'll take the French toast and a side of bacon," I order. "This one over here might need a little something sweet for his coffee. Just to sweeten it up a tad. Sugar?” I shrug. Ollie shakes his head at me, a warning, I guess. He told me to behave myself, but I don't fucking care.
"I heard you like shopping," Polina says. "I wish we had time." She's trying, but everything is strained here between us.
If I tell them anything about my brother, he will find out, and there will be retribution. I remember his warning to me before I left. It's absolutely killing me to keep the secret from all of them, but I don't know what else I could possibly do.
I barely taste anything, the tension hanging in the air thick with the presence of the Romanov family. Conversations swirl around me, but I stay silent, trying to absorb everything but actually absorbing nothing. When the family begins to discuss wedding plans, I assume it has something to do with me and do my best to pay attention.
"So, Renata," Harper begins, her tone kind but authoritative. Harper is Aleksandr's wife, and I don't know much about her. We didn't interact much before when I was here, as she was always busy. They have children, and I am told that Harper shoots a gun better than any of the men here. Interesting to note. I do know that before she came here, she was an influencer, knowledgeable about hair, makeup, and clothes. Polina once mentioned this to me.
Harper blushes. "It was just something I did, and I don't anymore, but I'll always be interested in things like this. What kind of dress do you have in mind for your wedding?"
I shrug. "A white one, I guess? Something traditional."
"Sleeveless, lace, fitted, what do you think?" Harper asks, her eyes lighting up as she lists different styles. I don’t know what she’s talking about as she mentions things like sheath and bodycon and A-line.
I glance around the table, feeling the weight of everyone's eyes on me. This isn't me. I love clothes, and I love dressing up, but the thought of choosing a wedding dress for something like this feels surreal. "I'm not sure," I admit. "I love elegant and simple designs."
Ollie clenches his jaw. "We'll talk, Harper.” His eyes meet mine. “I’ll choose what she wears."
My body tenses. Back in the room, when he chose my clothes, it felt like he actually cared about how I looked. This feels more like a power move, but I’m caught right in the middle of a "pick your battles" type of situation.
I manage a small smile. "Sounds like a good plan."
"Always a classic choice," Harper says. "Maybe we can visit some boutiques later today."
Ollie shakes his head. "Absolutely not."
Everyone's silent at the table for a brief moment, and finally, Harper's husband, Aleksandr, intervenes. He's a tall man with dark eyes and sharp features, the one who is apparently reading my biometrics. Can he tell when I'm pissed off? Turned on? Probably. Ugh.