Total pages in book: 94
Estimated words: 91536 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 458(@200wpm)___ 366(@250wpm)___ 305(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 91536 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 458(@200wpm)___ 366(@250wpm)___ 305(@300wpm)
Five months into my marriage and here was my death.
The blow came, but I was still alive.
The man fell onto me. A bullet hole in the center of his head. I scrambled out from underneath him, screaming.
Arms wrapped around me, and I started to flail against him, fighting him off.
“I’ve got you. I’ve got you.”
Slavik’s voice calmed me. Another surprise of the day. He shouldn’t be the one to calm me.
What the hell was wrong with me?
My heart raced. I felt sick.
We’d been attacked at a party full of civilians, including politicians and wealthy businessmen. What was even scarier was I knew the man who had attacked me. He worked for my father. This attack came from my old family, and as I looked up into Slavik’s eyes, he knew as well.
The sound of police sirens filled the air.
Neither of us spoke.
Slavik handed me over to Sergei. “Take her home. A doctor will be by to look at her.”
I didn’t have any wounds, just cuts from landing on the glass. I followed Sergei without argument. Slavik didn’t follow. Within seconds, I was in the back of our car and Sergei drove us back to his penthouse suite. There was no time to waste.
As he got out of the car, he drew his weapon, helping me from the vehicle. We got into the elevator and still, Sergei held his gun.
“I don’t think it’s worth holding your gun out. If we pass any children, they’ll be terrified.”
“I’m not going to risk it. Your safety is more important.”
I chose not to argue.
Tonight had been … crazy.
I touched my lips. My fingers were dirty and some of them were cut. I had a throbbing behind one eye, and it was becoming a struggle to see, but my lips still tingled.
Did this seem to matter more because it was my first kiss?
The elevator doors opened, and Sergei went inside the apartment first, only allowing me to follow once he was sure the house was secure.
I kicked off my heels, happy to feel the ground once again.
I went immediately to the freezer, taking out a bag of peas and pressing it up against my burning eye.
“We’re all clear.”
“They attacked the party. I doubt they’d follow us.”
“We have many enemies.”
“All of which are not after me.” I couldn’t help but think of the vile words the man had said to me. I wasn’t a traitorous bitch. I’d been given to Slavik by my family. If there was a peace treaty, why were my father’s men attacking the party? Were they planning to incite war? What was the point of this marriage if that was the end game?
“Are you okay?” Sergei asked.
“No.” I winced. “I mean, yes, I’m fine. I just, ouch.” I lifted the bag of peas for him to look.
“Ouch,” he said.
I couldn’t help but laugh. “You’re trained in all elements of torture and hurting people and you call this ouch. I’m a wimp.” I couldn’t help but pout. I’d screamed and been terrified. I’d even stood up as if it was safe to do so. I was a fucking idiot. I hated my reactions and it pissed me off.
“You’re a woman. It was a scary situation.”
“I could have helped.”
“Really? Do what?”
“I don’t know. Shoot a gun.” I hated that Slavik had to go and I had to stay. What if he’d gotten hurt? Why did I fucking care?
Ugh! I hated all these questions. I hated my husband.
There was a knock at the door, but it didn’t exactly ease my troubled thoughts. Sergei left me, but I didn’t like how his touch seemed to linger. I had to be going crazy if I thought Sergei was being … inappropriate.
Slavik would kill him if he even doubted for a second my feelings for Sergei. He was a friend. Not even that. We were companions. Even that didn’t sound right.
An old man with a head full of white hair and wrinkled eyes around the corners stepped in to the room.
“Hello, Mrs. Ivanov. I’m Doctor Smith,” he said.
There was no way Smith was his real name.
“Hi,” I said, releasing the bag of peas.
We ended up in the dining room. Sergei stood guard as the doctor assessed the damage. I had several fragments of glass embedded underneath my flesh. It wasn’t too bad. With the dress I wore, I had no choice but to place a bath towel in front of me as he released the back of the dress. There was support built into the bodice which meant I could forgo a bra.
I winced each time he released a piece of glass. I felt even more ashamed that I couldn’t take the pain.
After years of being hit or whipped by my father, I figured I’d be used to it.
When he removed a piece of glass, his fingers paused on a spot at my back. “This is an old scar,” he said.