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)
I shake my head. “That’s ridiculous. We’re all too pragmatic to believe in old prophecies. No. If I’m going to have Lydia—” I pause and get my shit together before I continue. “I want it out in the open. I want to solidify our alliance with the Ivanov family like Nikko did and for the same reason.” I shake my head. “She can’t go to that monster.”
I’ll do way more than fuck him over.
I dislike manipulation and typically prefer brute force, but this situation requires a delicate touch. “I want the Ivanovs to believe that aligning with us is not only inevitable but beneficial.”
I shake my head, still disbelieving that this could work, that Lydia… could be mine.
“And if it doesn’t work?” I try to keep my tone light, pretending that what hangs in the balance could make or literally fucking break me. I fail. My voice cracks.
“It will work,” Mikhail says. “I promise you.”
When I finally leave Mikhail’s office, I’m weary but energized.
Lydia Ivanova.
I drive to my home on the Manhattan border. I walk up the brick steps on autopilot, barely noticing where I’m going or what I’m doing.
Nikita, my large, muscular Tibetan Mastiff, meets me at the door, and I scratch her ears. “Give me five,” I tell her. I need a minute before we go for a walk. I take the stairs to my bedroom two at a time and walk straight to the closet hidden deep in the back of the room.
I slip the key into the lock, and the door creaks open on its hinges. I give myself a moment to lean against the worn wood and take in a deep breath before letting my gaze roam over every damn piece I’ve collected.
A nearly empty bottle of Opulence I lifted from her locker at the gym a year ago. A lipstick-stained napkin I confiscated at a coffee shop where she met her mother a few months ago. A torn page from a notebook she carries with the simplest of shopping lists on it. A disposable, empty coffee cup with her name scribbled on the side in permanent marker. A ticket stub from a concert she snuck into when she was still a teen here in America. Her photograph from her senior year in high school and a more recent one I found online and had made into a print. Her copy of Wuthering Heights she left behind all those years ago that I’ve read so many times the pages are falling apart.
Lydia’s shrine.
I lift the bottle. The heady, intense fragrance is her signature scent. I lift it and give myself the luxury of a deep, cleansing breath of it. Just smelling it conjures up the mental image I have of her.
I let myself linger through the shrine. I finger the napkin and press it to my lips. I read her shopping list and recite it from memory.
Chocolate
Coffee
Oranges
Something for dinner
I run my thumb along the edge of the coffee cup, where I imagine her lips graced. I place them all back down with reverence and stare at the picture of her as a teen and compare it with the way she looks now.
She’s only grown more beautiful, more exquisite, more sensual with time. Curvy and lush, she’s imposing yet graceful. Her long, dark hair cascades over her shoulders in waves, her eyes expressive and intense. She favors flowing tops and dresses that accentuate her curves.
Lydia.
With a sigh, I place everything back with precision, shut the door, and lock it behind me. I stifle a yelp when I almost trample Nikita beneath my feet.
“Jesus,” I mutter, my heart hammering in my chest. “You should give me some notice you’re there. God.”
I look at the locked door with a frown then turn around and face the bedroom. It’s hard to even believe, but if this works… if Mikhail actually pulls it off and Lydia becomes mine… I might need a bit of a feminine touch to this room.
And fucking safety measures put in place.
I snap on Nikita’s leash and head out to take her for a walk.
My phone rings with a call from my brother Nikko as I head out the entrance of my home, a few miles from the Romanov family headquarters.
“Yeah?”
“We spoke with Zofia.” Zofia Ivanova, my sister-in-law Vera and Lydia’s mother, is the Ivanov family matriarch in the wake of her husband’s death. She and my brother Nikko are the ones who make all major decisions.
“And?” My heart smashes against my rib cage, my mouth instantly dry.
“Her mother’s amenable to the idea, but I need more time. I’m working on it. Let’s assume this is a go and work accordingly.”
I swallow hard.
“Alright. Thanks.”
“But you know we need to destroy Yudin, Viktor. You know what he’ll do in retaliation. We can’t leave a single shred of him behind.”