Total pages in book: 84
Estimated words: 100417 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 502(@200wpm)___ 402(@250wpm)___ 335(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 100417 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 502(@200wpm)___ 402(@250wpm)___ 335(@300wpm)
The devil noticed my reaction and grinned. I told him in Spanish that my revenge would be sweet and unexpected.
He set away the journal. “You should know, I called Vasili off from his investigation of you. He was very disappointed.”
Máxim had? “That explains the man’s behavior earlier.” When he’d driven us to the executive airport in Sevastyan’s Bentley Mulsanne, the bodyguard/driver/right-hand man had glowered at me. As we’d boarded the jet, he’d cast me another surly look before he’d adjourned to the cockpit. Ever protective of “boss.”
I’d asked Máxim, “What will it take to get a smile out of that man?”
“Your real name and ID. That’s all he wants out of life. And possibly almond candies.”
Now Máxim said, “Before then, Vasili had men turn Tampa upside down. You never lived there, did you?”
“I never told you I did. Why did you call him off?”
“Because you’ll confide in me. Soon.”
“You sound assured.” Over the last two days, he’d been making me wonder: what if I recruited Máxim’s help against Edward? This morning in the bathroom, I’d gazed into the mirror to practice what I’d say. I’d attempted to murmur the words, “I’m married to a murderer who wants me dead,” and only air passed my lips. My lungs had seized up, as if a weight pressed down on them.
Máxim said, “I am assured. You’re learning to trust me.”
What if I . . . did? The level of faith that would require . . . I didn’t know if my withered up trust was capable of reaching that level. How could I be expected to run on a limb that was shriveled and broken?
His gaze met mine. “I want what’s best for you. You can trust me.”
I glanced away. That was exactly what Edward had told me when I’d said, “I don’t understand why I have to sign all these papers.”
For so long, I’d followed my rules, trusting no one. I’d remained alone—and alive. I’d been silent—and hidden. How could I fly in the face of that?
Over the years, I’d learned to equate secrecy with survival. In my mind, to willfully break a rule was to call Edward down upon me.
I knew it was crazy. That didn’t make it any less real to me. Had my psyche been damaged by my predicament? I don’t see how it couldn’t have been. No one should have to go through life imagining what a knife wound would feel like. . . .
“Katya?”
“Qué cosa? Huh?” Clearing my throat, I changed the subject. “Vasili is very loyal. How did you meet him?”
The look Máxim gave me told me he’d allowed me off the hook. “Vasili was about to be executed for a mob hit I knew he didn’t commit.”
“Por Dios. How did you know?”
“I was blackmailing the man who ordered the hit. I struggled with the decision to save Vasili or not. It was my first major blackmail scheme, and I was poised to collect many favors from a powerful man. In the end, I anonymously mailed the evidence to Vasili’s advocate. Then Vasili turned around—and somehow tracked down me, pointing out my vulnerabilities. Hat in hand, he asked to work for me. How could I say no?”
“That doesn’t seem very heartless.”
“Perhaps scheming, then? I saved his life once, and he’s protected mine ever since. Forfeiting my gain was the best investment I ever made.” With a heated glance, he said, “At least until you came along.”
“Ha. Qué cómico. Speaking of investments—what are you thinking for a wedding gift?”
“A stallion for their stable. One that wasn’t for sale.”
Of course.
He opened his ever-present briefcase, pulling out my phone. “You get this back.” He handed it to me.
“Did you break my code and read everything?”
“Code-locked phones are surprisingly secure. I could have cracked it, but I would risk damaging all your data. And again, you’ll confide in me soon anyway.”
I shielded the screen, entered my code, then reviewed my texts with him. I’d had no idea how much this man was going to mean to me. I added him as a contact: M Sevastyan, then I checked my voice mail. Mrs. Abernathy had left a reminder that I’d confirmed cleaning on the thirty-first.
I was listening to a message like that while flying on a private jet. Joke’s on you, Abernathy.
I asked Máxim, “Did I earn this for good behavior?”
“In case we get separated over the weekend, and you need to call.”
“When will we be separated? I thought we were all staying at the same place.” A lodge built around some historic manse, a location chosen by Natalie’s mother.
Máxim said, “You might go into the nearby town with Natalie and her best friend, Jessica. They’re your age. I suspect you’re about to make new friends.”
“Non-escort friends?”
“You said it; I didn’t.”
“Are they stiff? Or snobby? What if they don’t like me?”
“Natalie is very warm. I met Jessica on my last trip to Nebraska and found her to be . . . colorful. They’re going to love you.”
“Dmitri won’t be there?”
“Nyet.”
“I got the impression that he is pissed about this wedding.” The man had been blowing up Máxim’s phone as usual. Over the last two days, whenever Máxim had talked to him, he’d dragged me into his lap and stroked my hair, which seemed to soothe him. That close, I could hear Dmitri yelling in Russian, sounding enraged. Máxim would talk to him in a monotone, trying to calm his disturbed brother.
“He wants nothing good for Aleksandr,” Máxim said. “Marrying the lovely daughter of a legendary billionaire is quite a favorable turn for our older brother. But I’ve set my mind to mending the breach between Aleksandr and Dmitri. Someone recently told me I should lead by example.”
“I don’t know who said that, but she sounds like the smartest person in the world.”
“I’m beginning to suspect so.”
I tucked my boots under me on the couch. “How did Aleksandr meet Natalie?”
“Her father, Pavel Kovalev, adopted him when he was young, becoming my brother’s beloved mentor.”
“Aleksandr was adopted because he was separated from you and Dmitri?”