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)
“It’ll be hunting time soon. I’ve narrowed it down to six.” Right away, I feel guilty. I should’ve said we. I really should’ve said Mila, but I’m trying to hide how badly I want her. “A couple days of tailing and data gathering, and we’ll have our marks. Then you don’t need to marry Mila.”
Dimitri pauses, then says, “I hope it doesn’t come to that.”
I must be messed up in the head because I want to shout and roar at him, saying that he should feel lucky for even having the chance to marry Mila. It’s an insane thing to think, considering it’s the last thing I want.
“What if we hit the deadline?” I ask. “Will you do it?”
“I know what you’re going to say. I have to put the family and the business first. I get it.”
He’s talking to me like I’m the old Mikhail, the pre-Mila Mikhail. It’s like she’s changed something in me just by being herself. “No, actually,” I grunt. “I was going to say … fuck Nikolai. Why should we let him dictate what the Sokolovs do?”
“That will mean a war,” he says. “We need to catch this early. We need to learn who Nikolai has turned against us. A war won’t be good for anyone, and why the sudden change of heart?”
I turn when Mila laughs at something Ania has said. They look like they fit together; they’re the friend the other person has been waiting to meet. In a twisted, insane moment, I see Mila in a wedding dress and Ania in a bridesmaid dress, and they’re not in the garden. They’re at the wedding reception, and I’m so happy I could cheer like an idiot as the groom.
Dimitri wants a response. I almost tell him the truth. Because she belongs with me, and if you try to take her from me, it won’t be war with the Petrovs you have to worry about.
Instead, I snap, “Is it so bad that I’m looking out for my big brother?”
“Is everything okay?” Ania asks when I return to the table.
“It’s fine,” I tell her. “Just …”
“Everything?” Ania asks quietly.
“Yeah, pretty much.” I take a big bite from my sandwich. “Dee-lish-us.”
“Ew, Mikhail!” Ania says, giggling. “You’re gross.”
“She’s not wrong,” Mila says, grinning at me.
Maybe this could be my life one day, bantering with my sister and Mila. No war. No marriage arrangements. No fear hanging over us every single second.
After the sandwiches, Ania tells us she’s going to practice her ballet. We’re outside, so I’ve got to be careful about how I behave toward Mila. I can’t help but notice the nervousness in her gaze as she looks around. Her hands are busy with each other as she looks over the pool, to the estate, the desert beyond, and the horizon shimmering in the sun.
“Feeling trapped?” I ask.
“How could you tell?” she replies.
“I must be a mind reader,” I say, then lean forward, knowing this could be a huge mistake. I want—need—to make Mila happy. “If we could get out of here for a while, would you want to?”
“I thought we had to stay here. If the guards see us leaving together …”
“Nobody will see anything,” I say. “There’s a way we can do it. We can’t be out for long, and it’s not like we can go anywhere public. It would mean getting away for a bit. It would mean forgetting for a little while …”
She doesn’t have to ask what I mean when I say forgetting. She knows what I’m talking about. When one of the staff members walks past the pool, a bag of garden waste slung over his shoulder, Mila leans back as though she’s conscious of not being seen too close to me. It hurts, but I get it. It’s smart.
“Just getting out would be good. A break from the ones and zeroes.”
“Okay, go pack a bag: water, comfortable walking sneakers. Maybe we can take a hike and enjoy this yellow, dusty landscape some, eh?”
I feel much more excited than I should be about taking a walk. I’ll take her anywhere if it means being alone with her.
“How are we going to leave?” she asks.
“Let me worry about that.”
“Okay.”
When she stands up, my gaze flits to her hips, her legs, her ass. We haven’t been intimate since after the funeral, but the temptation has been roaring at me, howling to claim her, grab her, kiss her, own her. Own her, and she called me progressive. Ha, ha, ha.
I go to the computer room and write a note. Important work. Please do not disturb. Call my cell phone if you need me. Mikhail. Putting the note on the outside of the door, I head to my room to get changed. If anybody asks what I’m doing, I’ll tell them I’m heading to the gym.