Total pages in book: 74
Estimated words: 68931 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 345(@200wpm)___ 276(@250wpm)___ 230(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 68931 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 345(@200wpm)___ 276(@250wpm)___ 230(@300wpm)
“The note,” I say urgently, catching up with her in the kitchen. “Where’s the note?
“Oh, umm, hold on.” She grabs it from a stack of papers on one of the counters. “Here you go.”
I grab it and frantically scan it.
It’s only two lines:
For Alina Molotova.
-AL
Chapter 5
Present Day, Location Unknown
“What are you doing here?” I ask, raising my chin.
I hate that my voice is shaking and my hands are frantically clutching at the edges of my towel as if I were a virginal maiden.
Which I actually am. He’s ensured that.
The cruel curve of Alexei’s lips deepens, dark amusement dancing in the depths of his eyes. “It’s my boat.”
“I meant here in my cabin.” There, steadier now. Maybe I can still salvage this situation, buy myself a little more time.
He arches his eyebrows. “It’s my cabin also.”
My insides twist with fear and something far more unsettling. Simultaneously, my breathing picks up, my skin prickling with that dangerous heat I only ever feel around him. I’m acutely cognizant of his size and strength, of the way his thick muscles flex underneath the soft cotton of his black T-shirt and how his dark, well-worn jeans hug his powerfully built legs. Of the tattoos that cover his forearms, simultaneously concealing and emphasizing their sinewy strength.
He was intimidating at nineteen. Now, at thirty, he’s a force to be reckoned with.
“Where are we?” I ask as evenly as I can. I don’t want to delve deeper into the “my cabin” bit, don’t want to think about what he means by that. I have a feeling I’ll find out soon enough, but in the meantime, I need to get my bearings.
“We’re on a boat,” he answers, his eyes gleaming sardonically. “My boat.”
I clench my jaw. “And where is the fucking boat?”
He tsk-tsks. “Such language.”
“Fuck you.”
“Oh, absolutely.” He grins, flashing sharp teeth that appear extra white against the deep tan of his olive-hued skin. The Leonovs have some Sicilian blood in them, and it shows. His eyes rake over me, lingering on the spot where my hands are clutching the towel in a death grip. “Very soon.”
My body goes simultaneously hot and cold, and I take an involuntary step back.
It’s a mistake. Like a predator reacting to fleeing prey, he comes after me, advancing with lethally soft strides until he’s right in front of me, so close I can smell his richly masculine cologne, with its signature notes of pine and leather. And ocean surf. The fresh, salty tang emanating from his skin is new, and it reminds me of where we are and how inescapable my new prison is.
Swallowing hard, I stare up into his hard-featured face as he lifts his hand and brushes my hair back, tucking it behind my ear. His touch burns like fire, adding to the turmoil inside me.
“My sweet beauty,” he says softly. “Still think you can delay this, do you?”
I dampen my dry lips. I’m shaking deep inside, and I don’t know if it’s from trepidation or from the infernal heat consuming me. “I need more time. Please.”
His eyes are almost pure black. “I’ve given you a decade.”
Yes, he has. But it’s not enough. A hundred years wouldn’t be enough, and he knows it. What he wants is everything I fear and dread.
“Please,” I try again, and whether it’s the word itself or the tremor in my voice, his answering headshake is almost regretful. Almost sympathetic—even as his words slay me with all the mercilessness with which he murdered my brother’s guards.
“No more waiting, Alinyonok.” Covering my clenched hands with his big palms, he gently pries my fingers open, one by one, until the towel covering my body is held up only by the corner I tucked into the material over my breasts. I can feel it slowly slipping out, unraveling on its own, but he doesn’t wait. Capturing both of my hands in one of his, he tugs on the towel, helping it along until it drops on the floor, leaving me standing naked in front of him.
The cool air flows over my freshly washed skin, adding to the sensation of icy-hot needles piercing my flesh and, perversely, the liquid heat gathering between my thighs. My nipples contract into stiff, aching points, and I have to fight not to sway helplessly toward him as he bends his head and imprints the words onto my ear with his warm breath. “It’s time you held up your end of our bargain.”
Chapter 6
10 Years and 1 Month Earlier, Moscow
Two weeks at home. That’s all I have to tolerate this summer, thank fuck. Now that I’ve turned fifteen, Mama lets me travel with my friends—and our bodyguards, of course—and I spent all of June, July, and half of August exploring Italy, Greece, Spain, and France. I would’ve gladly continued on to Iceland with Natasha, but for some reason, my parents insisted that I return to Moscow—probably so I could witness more of their epic fights.