Total pages in book: 79
Estimated words: 75209 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 376(@200wpm)___ 301(@250wpm)___ 251(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 75209 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 376(@200wpm)___ 301(@250wpm)___ 251(@300wpm)
He pulls me to his chest in a grip so tight I can hardly breathe before he releases me, both hands on either side of my face, his gaze burning into mine.
“Life is complicated. Yes,” he says with a nod.
“We can do this,” I whisper. But even as I say it, I can feel the futility of my words.
He slams his mouth onto mine, and all thoughts come to a screeching halt. I can hardly remember what we were arguing about. I can hardly remember how we got here or where we go from here. When his tongue tangles with mine, I taste the salty essence of my tears.
We pull away, press our foreheads together, and entwine our fingers. Hold each other. Hold this space of fear mingled with love and of past misdeeds mingled with grace.
Can I forgive him for the atrocities he’s committed? How much do I really, truly know him?
“You are right,” he whispers as he licks his lips. “Whatever comes. . . whatever happens. . . We take grave risks, but it’s nothing we can’t handle.”
Why do his words seem hollow?
Why do I question his sincerity?
Where, truly, do we go from here?
“Let me make a call,” he whispers. “Let me see if surveillance saw anything. We don’t have to make a decision right now other than whether or not we’ll go to tonight’s team dinner.”
“Right. Yes.”
I watch as he takes a phone out of his drawer and texts, scowling at it, before I push myself out of bed and find something to change into. The window’s closed now, as it should’ve been in the first place.
I step into a pair of jeans and tug on a fitted top. Even though he’s on the phone, he crooks a finger at me.
I walk over to him, and he grins at me—one of those wide, toothy grins that splits his whole face into two, as rare as a solar eclipse and as bright as the midday sun in summer. I kiss his prickly jaw.
“You’re so damn beautiful,” he says. “We’re going to make this work, Vera.” The deep timbre of his voice somehow seems foreboding when he says, “No matter what.”
CHAPTER TWENTY
Nikko
Aleks, tell me if there was anyone outside our door between the hours of 18:30-19:40. It’s crucial.
I see no one in the nearby vicinity at that hour, just the program director Irina walking by at 19:40. Why? What’s going on?
I tell my brothers everything. We have no secrets from one another. But I have no idea how to tell him. . . this. I cannot betray my family, yet I cannot betray the woman that I love.
And yes, I’ll admit that, if only to myself. I love Vera Ivanova. Against all better judgment and knowledge in my head, I’ve fallen in love with this fierce, intense, brilliant, beautiful woman. So I do what’s become a habit by now: I tell him a half-truth.
The window was open and I suspected our privacy was invaded. After the last fiasco, I feared the worst
All clear brother. Our sources tell us that her father is still in town. Your thoughts on your timing?
I draw in a breath and release it.
It is time.
I shove my phone in my pocket and release my grip on Vera. She lifts her head from my shoulder.
“Did I do a good job, Daddy?”
I kiss her forehead. “Such a good job, baby girl. Let’s get dinner.”
Though Irina walked by, nothing seemed off. She’d smiled widely, as usual, and reminded me that dinner was approaching. She asked if we’d join them, and when I said yes, she said she’d see us there.
Still, I feel torn. I have to protect Vera, no matter the cost, even if that means hurting her in the process.
I have to.
We walk hand in hand to the dining hall and are joined by the American at the door. He only gives us a curt nod and walks in ahead of us. Maxim, normally silent and aloof, smiles at Vera. “That was incredible. Did you tell Markov about your breakthrough today?”
“She did,” I say warmly, wrapping my arm around her shoulders. “I couldn’t be prouder. This is why we’re here.”
“This is why we’re all here,” Professor Morozov says as he enters and joins us. “Today was a landmark day and calls for a celebration.”
He removes a bottle of chilled wine from his lab coat and opens it.
“I half expected him to serve it in beakers,” Vera says in my ear. I stifle a snort.
“That’s terrible.”
“Oh, honey. I’ve seen worse in a lab, believe you me.”
Here, in these small interludes of normalcy, it almost feels like we could actually make this work. That Vera and I could be a normal couple, unhindered by the restraints and demands of family.
Still, I can’t shake the feeling that something is terribly off. Aleks says no one saw anything Irina is acting normally, and Vera’s fellow students are buoyed by their findings today and proud of her. Even Jake begrudgingly toasts her and admits he’s impressed with the progress they’ve made.