Total pages in book: 60
Estimated words: 56572 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 283(@200wpm)___ 226(@250wpm)___ 189(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 56572 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 283(@200wpm)___ 226(@250wpm)___ 189(@300wpm)
“I know my family is worse than yours. We, the Petrovs and Dad, are cut-throat compared to you.”
“You’ve got Dimitri to thank for that,” he says with apparent pride in his voice. “When he came of age, he wanted nothing to do with the life. Our father was outraged. He was the heir. Would he have to turn to the spare?”
“That’s an awful thing to call yourself.”
“No, it’s not,” he snaps. “Because it means I never had to be our father’s plaything. It means I was able to live my own life. I could travel and be my own man, but not Dimitri. Dimitri made a deal: no more trafficking, and he’d stay in the life. Our father agreed, probably because it would look bad if his son went AWOL.” Mikhail takes a step back. “Anyway, we’ve got work to do.”
I wrap my arms around him, pulling myself close. I put my ear against his chest, savoring the warmth, the moment, and the make-believe dream we can make this work.
Make what work? This relationship? I’ve never even had one before.
“Thanks for letting me help,” I murmur. “I know it’s not easy. I’m a Petrov. I’m a woman—”
“The Bratva, as a whole, look down on women,” Mikhail tells me, “but I don’t care who you are. If you’ve got what it takes to do something special, exceptional, and interesting, you’ve got my respect. It’s as simple as that.”
“That’s very progressive.”
Mikhail laughs gruffly. “Don’t let the guards hear you say that.”
CHAPTER 8
MIKHAIL
“This is brilliant,” I say, sipping my coffee as Mila sits at her desk, clicking through the options of all the Bratva we’ve narrowed down. “Mila, I’m impressed.”
She looks at me over her shoulder, giving me savage thoughts as she clicks through the guards, their profiles appearing. It’s been a day since we set up our rig, and already Mila is doing slick work.
“Do you want me to show my workings?” she says with a sexy-as-hell hint of irony.
I smirk, nodding. “Yes, ma’am.”
“I deployed custom-built web crawlers and scrapers to scour the deep web and less savory corners of the internet.”
“Excellent,” I tell her, unable to wipe the grin off my face.
“These men all have some connection with my family. This one, for example …” She clicks through to the next profile. “He went to the same school in the same county as several of my father’s men. This came from a data leak from a sports insurance company that covered all of them for football.”
“Let’s see them again,” I say, and she clicks through them.
I pause when she comes to Denis.
“I highly doubt it’s him,” I tell her. “He’s been with our family for as long as I can remember. I’ve been in several meetings when he tried to talk my father down from some scheme. Look at this connection. The same cell phone provider?”
Mila frowns, then nods. “Yeah, you’re right. My program made a mistake.”
“Hey …” I say as I kneel beside her, placing my coffee on the desk and kissing her softly. “I’m not criticizing. You’ve helped so damn much.”
“It’s because I haven’t spent the last several years working on video games.”
“My hacking …”
“Don’t say hussy,” she says, laughing.
I chuckle, then turn when I hear somebody clear their throat. It’s Ania, standing with her hands clasped, her cheeks red as she watches us.
“Hey, sis,” I say, smiling widely, wondering how much she saw. Did she see the kiss?
“Hey. How’s it going?”
“Great, thanks to Mila,” I reply. “I’m going to shoot Dimitri a text.”
Maybe this is a way to distract myself so I don’t have to stand here as Ania picks me apart with her gaze in that searching way she has. It’s a mean thought, but sometimes, my baby sister unnerves me with her penetrating stare. I’m done with that sort of thinking. After shooting off the text, Ania says, “Shall we get lunch? I can make us something?”
I smile again, then say, “Sure, Ania, that sounds great.”
She tilts her head at me, almost like she’s suspicious. I can practically read her thoughts. Why’s he suddenly being so nice?
Ania makes some sandwiches—even when Yuri insists multiple times that he can do it—and then we eat on the back porch. Water glistens off the pool, reminding me of a few days ago, watching my big brother and Mila talk awkwardly out here.
Mila and Ania talk about ballet and programming. I’m happy to sit here and listen, watching as they bond. Mila is so animated, beautiful, and talented. There’s always a hint of sadness in her, though, as though the impending wedding, the disaster, is on her mind constantly.
“Excuse me,” I say when my cell phone rings.
“He’s way more polite since you came along,” Ania tells Mila, and they laugh.
I wander over to the pool and answer the phone. Dimitri sounds on edge. I’d almost think anxious if I didn’t know him better. “Any news?”