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)
“Ah.” She presses her lips together and nods before she picks up her fork and takes another bite of egg. “Thank you for this. It’s delicious. Now, please. Now that you’ve got me fed, can you tell me what’s going on?”
I sit on the edge of the bed, eating a croissant as she continues to eat her breakfast. I pull out my phone.
“A recording of your mother’s conversation with Timur. Fortunately for us, she had video surveillance set up where she was, so she had this evidence.”
I tap my phone, and the screen pops up. Her mother, Zofia, sits primly in a chair in her living room. Her home is about thirty minutes from here.
The footage is grainy but clear. Timur shifts uncomfortably in his seat, his folded arms on his chest.
“Why did you call me?”
Something flickers in Lydia’s eyes. I can surmise what it is—the friendly demeanor is a bit off putting, incongruent with the rough tone of his voice. He’s laid it on thick for her, so it likely takes her by surprise.
“As you know,” Zofia begins, “we’ve had a change in our family since Vera married into the Romanovs’.”
She watches as Yudin stares implacably at her mother, his gaze stone cold, and she shifts uncomfortably.
“I’m not sure I understand. What does that have to do with me?” he finally asks, scowling.
Zofia clears her throat. “I have reservations about my daughter’s marriage to you that my husband did not have. Leadership and I have decided it best that Lydia marry into the Romanov family. Please accept my apologies—”
“No.” I wish I could reach through the screen and ring Yudin’s arrogant neck.
“This marriage is in progress. I’ve already spent significant money on Lydia’s dress.” He scoffs. “It needed to be altered to accommodate her and was no small fee thanks to her size.”
I forgot about that part. The fucker. Lydia’s cheeks turn bright pink.
“Mr. Yudin,” she says kindly. “I wish I could give my daughter to you with confidence, but recent developments make the situation unwise.”
He stands. “I’ll have Lydia, Zofia. You will not take her away from me.”
Zofia gets on her feet as he turns to leave. “Please understand. This is a strategic decision that we must make—” He takes a step toward her, but two guards snap into position between them. He makes a fist.
“Watch your fucking back and stay out of my way,” he snarls before he leaves, slamming the door behind him so hard the windows rattle. Fucking spoiled prick.
“Shut it off,” Lydia snaps, looking away. “My mother shouldn’t have intervened. My father was the one who arranged for our marriage.”
Her father who’s dead now.
I wonder if she really believes that, or is she only saying that as an excuse for Yudin’s behavior?
She doesn’t have to believe me. I know why I took her, and I know why she’s marrying me.
When my phone rings, I glance down to see Mikhail’s calling and stifle a groan. I turn away from her and take the call.
“Yeah?”
“Aleksandr tells me you’re not attending our meeting. Our meeting I called specifically to make a plan with you, Viktor.” The inherent disapproval in his voice sets my teeth on edge. I love my brothers, all of them, but I don’t know if they have the first clue about what matters most to me.
“I know,” I tell him. “She’s scared. I don’t want to leave her alone.”
“She’ll be fine. I expect you to join us. Immediately.”
He ends the call. I shove my phone in my pocket when Lydia speaks up.
“I don’t know what you think I’m going to do here,” she says as she nibbles a ripe berry. “I have nowhere to go.”
But there’s a look in her eyes I’ve seen before… the look she gets right before she does something rash and dangerous. “Lydia,” I say warningly.
“It bothers me how familiar you are with my name despite the fact that we hardly know each other.” She tosses her head. “I want to talk to Vera. Go, have your meeting, and tell them I want to talk to Vera.”
Turning away from me, she lies on the bed and gives me her back.
She’s playing something, but I don’t know what. My phone buzzes with a text, though.
Mikhail: where the fuck are you
Jesus, Mikhail.
I shove my phone in my pocket.
I grab my jacket and head down to the office where my brothers are waiting. I’m halfway down the hall when the overhead lights flicker. I scowl, looking upward.
Strange.
Unlike my brothers’ homes, mine is smaller but closer to my mother’s. I like knowing I’m within walking distance of my sister and mother’s house if they need me. So I settled for a home that was smaller than I wanted and instead made some modifications so it would be comfortable for a guy like me. Home gym. Gated yard for Nikita. Large doorways and sturdy furniture.