Total pages in book: 83
Estimated words: 79312 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 397(@200wpm)___ 317(@250wpm)___ 264(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 79312 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 397(@200wpm)___ 317(@250wpm)___ 264(@300wpm)
She's grateful right now. She had a shower, and I ordered her favorite foods. But she doesn't like the control over her life, and that's going to come to a head eventually.
We sit at the kitchen table, the food spread up before us. Lydia takes a large slice of pizza and eats slowly, her eyes fluttering closed.
“Oh my God, this is so good,” she says, savoring her food. I watch her. I love making her happy.
We eat until we’re full.
“Soon you'll meet Aria, Mikhail's wife. These were her favorite when she was pregnant.”
I put the rest of the food away as she throws the paper plates in the trash. It's simple and comforting, but we're both mostly just tired. When our eyes meet, an unspoken understanding passes between us. Maybe she's trying to reconcile the fact that I know so much about her, and yet I'm still a complete stranger.
My phone buzzes with a text.
Mikhail: They lied or he was warned. No Yudin.
Lydia shifts in her seat, drawing my attention back to her. Her gaze is intense, her lips slightly parted. “Who was that?” she asks, her voice soft but probing.
“Mikhail,” I reply, my voice low.
Her eyes narrow slightly. “Do you always handle your problems with violence?”
I step closer, the air between us charged with tension. “I do what needs to be done to protect those I care about.”
Her breath hitches, and she doesn't back away. Instead, she stands, closing the distance between us. “And what about me, Viktor? What do I need protection from?”
“From anyone who would hurt you,” I say, my voice rough with emotion. “Including yourself.”
Her eyes flash with defiance. “I don't need a protector.”
“Maybe not,” I murmur, reaching out to tuck a strand of hair behind her ear. “But you have one anyway.”
She shivers at my touch, a mixture of anger and something more in her eyes. “You think you know everything about me,” she whispers, her lips inches from mine.
“I know enough,” I reply, my voice husky. “Enough to want to keep you safe. Enough to want you.”
Her breath catches, and for a moment, we just stand there, the tension between us electric. Then she steps back, breaking the spell.
“We'll see,” she says, her voice trembling slightly. “We'll see if you really know me, Viktor.”
I shoot Mikhail another text.
Keep looking
CHAPTER THIRTEEN
Lydia
I lie in bed staring at the wall. I slept well for a while, my belly full after a hot shower and a human hot water bottle beside me.
But now I’m wide awake, my mind buzzing with fear and possibilities.
I'm starting to see the wisdom in staying because if I leave… Where will I go? My family is entwined with the Romanovs. If I want anything to do with my mother or my sister, I stay here. If I leave, if I try to get away, I don't trust that my former fiancé won't come after me. And after what I've seen, I don't know what he’d do to me.
What if that man Viktor killed yesterday was telling the truth? What if my future husband intended on using me and sharing me? The thought of it disgusts me. I wake up with a heavy heart, my future husband next to me.
“Are you awake?” he asks.
I nod. “You?”
“Yeah,” he says in a low voice. Everything about him is so heavy and big and masculine, even his voice.
“What time is it?”
“No idea. Time when you should still be sleeping, anyway.”
“Thank you, Captain Obvious.”
I feel him tense beside me before he sits up, tossing the covers to the side. My heart leaps into my chest.
What the hell—
“That’s it,” he says, shaking his head. “I’ve had it. I’ve been as understanding as I possibly could be with you, Lydia.”
I stare, my jaw unhinged, as he reaches for my wrist. I pull away, but I don’t stand a chance against a man as big and as powerful as he is. “I am done.”
I gasp as he sits heavily on the bed and drags me over his lap.
“What the hell?” I protest, even as my pulse skyrockets. “Viktor, what the fuck—”
His hand slams against my backside hard and fast.
“I’ve been gentle. I’ve been understanding,” he continues, as his palm connects against my skin. My cheeks flame, but there’s something about the way he overpowers me that sends arousal coursing through me. I can hardly speak or think as heat blossoms in my belly, and a delicious warmth spreads between my legs.
I want to see what he does when I protest. When I fight him. When I don’t cave and roll over and show him the underside of my belly.
So I kick. I claw at his legs and yell, throwing my head back and hollering with everything I’ve got.
“You son of a bitch! You bastard. Let me up, or I’ll scream!”
He fists my hair, gathering the crazy lot of it in his massive hand before he tugs my head back. “Do it. If you don’t scream, I’ll get my belt and whip your perfect, pretty little ass until you do.”