Total pages in book: 81
Estimated words: 74579 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 373(@200wpm)___ 298(@250wpm)___ 249(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 74579 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 373(@200wpm)___ 298(@250wpm)___ 249(@300wpm)
"I don't want to go in there," I say, closing my eyes. "I don't want what happened last time, and if they—if I—"
"It doesn't matter," he says, pulling me to his chest and pressing his hand on the back of my head. "All that matters is that you obey me." Leaning in, his mouth comes to my ear. "Do what I say. Observe. And when I bring you back to my room, you will be rewarded. Isn’t that what you want?"
Yes.
No.
I simply nod.
Do I?
My heartbeat quickens when he opens the door and gives me an encouraging nod. I glance over his shoulder and see only two people: Demyan and Larissa. Larissa's eyes light up when she sees me, and she lifts her hand to give me a little wave. Maksym scowls.
I remember this large room with the bookshelves and desk and lamps, the lights burning brightly despite the sun pouring in through the windows.
"Come and sit by me," Maksym says, tugging me in with him.
I nod. "Yes, sir." Larissa looks from me to him and back again, her jaw set and her gaze flinty.
"How are you, Olena?" Larissa asks curiously.
I look to Maksym. Am I allowed to speak to her? I know he doesn't trust her. A sharp shake of his head forbids me from responding, so I look down to the floor and follow his footsteps. I don't meet Larissa's gaze.
Demyan says something to her in rapid Russian I can't decipher, and Larissa makes a little humph sound. The four of us sit in silence for a few moments. Demyan and Maksym look at both of us.
I kinda want to chat with her. To get to know her.
Back in America, when I lived with my mother, I lived a sheltered life. I know now that my mother wanted to shield me from my father. I didn't know who my father was until my mother passed away, and my father brought me to Russia.
I never had friends, or the company of females at all. We lived reclusive, solitary lives apart from others. And here, I could have a friend in Larissa. But these barbarians have other ideas.
Soon, other men begin to trickle in, each as stern and formidable as the men who sit in our midst. Tall and broad, tattooed and muscled, they look as if they could be brothers. Perhaps some of them are. One has a shaved head and another a full head of dark auburn hair that matches his thick beard. At first, I don't see who I'm looking for. Maksym keeps his hand rested on my knee, giving me a gentle squeeze. I don't recognize any of them at first, though, until most are assembled. Finally, one man comes in, his gaze turned away from me, and another follows suit. These two wear long-sleeved t-shirts and avert their eyes from me.
Shit. Is this one of them?
The way Maksym tenses beside me is confirmation enough.
Maksym meets my eyes, then looks down, indicating he wants me to avert my gaze and appear submissive. I do. I've agreed to give him a display of submission to keep the peace. I will. I barely listen to their order of business, trying to observe what I can. Maksym leads this meeting, as he's the one asking questions and telling them all what happened. Except when he talks about the fire, he's deliberately evasive.
"I took her to a secure location," he says. "We were not followed. Yet someone found us out and set fire to where we were staying." He continues, looking at each of them with determination in his eyes. "Though I suspect it was one of Yuri's men who came the first time when we were here and last night as well."
So that's how we're going to play it? It was one of my father's men indeed, though the man who betrayed him likely is loyal to my father.
"Did you see anyone?" the man with the shaved head asks.
Maksym shakes his head. "I did not," he says.
"What about the girl? Did she?"
I suppose I'm "the girl."
"No," he lies. I am supposed to keep my eyes on the floor, but I can't help looking up. One of the men in this room knows this is a lie. One of them knows I saw them. One of them knows exactly what happened. But none shows any signs of guilt. Was it in my head, then?
Maybe someone in here isn't guilty.
"Did you send the video to her father?" the bald man asks.
Maksym shakes his head. "It got accidentally destroyed."
"Then we take another," the guy says. Maksym's eyes widen so quickly, I doubt anyone else even notices. "Do we want Yuri to come, or not?"
"We do," Maksym says.
"Any objection?"
Maksym looks quickly to me, then shakes his head. "None. I agree with you."
Then he's lifting me out of the chair and dragging the chair across the room. My pulse quickens, and I look at him for some sign of reassurance. Anything at all. But he won't meet my eyes.