Total pages in book: 159
Estimated words: 157450 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 787(@200wpm)___ 630(@250wpm)___ 525(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 157450 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 787(@200wpm)___ 630(@250wpm)___ 525(@300wpm)
She gapes at me with horror writ large on her face.
Fuck.
“Get out!” she whispers.
“You’re throwing me out of my own house?”
“You bastard! Get the fuck out. Go!” she screeches. Picking up an empty wineglass, she hurls it at me. It hits my thigh and falls to the wooden floor, where it shatters. We glare at each other in the ensuing and oppressive silence.
Tears pool in her eyes.
And I can bear it no more. I turn on my heel and exit, slamming the door behind me.
* * *
Alessia walks briskly down a side street toward the convenience store that she knows on Royal Hospital Road. It’s a cold, dark night, and she pushes her hands deeper into her pockets, grateful for the warm coat that Maxim bought for her. A tingle runs up her spine, raising all the fine hairs on the back of her neck.
She glances behind her, suddenly uneasy. But under the streetlamps all is quiet; she is alone, except for a woman walking a large dog on the other side of the road. Alessia shakes her head, chiding herself for overreacting. In Albania, at night, she would be wary of the djinn—the demons that roam the earth after sundown. But she knows that this is superstition. She’s still jumpy after her encounter with Dante and Ylli. All the same, she picks up her pace and trots to the end of the street and around the corner to the Tesco Express.
The store is busier than usual, and she’s grateful that there are many customers milling through the aisles. Grabbing a shopping basket, she walks to the fresh produce section and begins to browse through the vegetables on sale.
“Hello, Alessia. How have you been?” It takes a fraction of a second for her to realize that the calm, familiar voice is speaking in Albanian. It takes another fraction of a second for fear to grip her heart and her soul.
No! He’s here!
* * *
I stand outside Trevelyan House trying to get a hold of my temper. Furious, I button up my coat against the February chill.
That did not go well.
Fisting my hands, I thrust them into my pockets.
I am so fucking angry right now. Too angry to go home to Alessia. I need to walk off my temper. Consumed by my thoughts and beyond pissed off, I turn right and stride up Chelsea Embankment.
How could Caroline think she and I had a chance?
We know each other too well. We’re supposed to be friends. She is my best friend. And she’s my brother’s widow, for fuck’s sake.
This is one fine bloody mess, dude.
But truth be told, I had no idea that she had designs on me beyond the occasional fuck.
Shit. She’s jealous.
Of Alessia.
Fuck.
My mind’s a mess. I scowl as I cross Oakley Street and stalk past the Mercedes-Benz garage. Even the familiar grace and beauty of the Boy with a Dolphin statue on the corner cannot lift my mood. My anger is as dark as the night.
* * *
Alessia turns, her heart pounding, fear streaking like lightning through her veins. She’s suddenly dizzy, her mouth dry. Anatoli is standing over her, invading her space. He’s close. Too close. “I have been looking for you,” he continues in their mother tongue. His full lips are twisted in a seemingly casual smile that doesn’t touch his piercing, pale blue eyes. He scrutinizes her, looking for answers. His chiseled face is thinner and his fair hair longer than she remembers. He looms over her, bundled up in what looks like an expensive Italian coat, intimidating her even now.
She starts to tremble as she wonders how the hell he found her. “H-h-h-hello, Anatoli,” she stutters, her voice shaky and full of fear.
“Surely you can do better than that, carissima. No smile for the man you are going to marry?”
No. No. No.
Alessia’s feet seem frozen to the shop floor as despair rises through her body. Her mind races—how can she escape? She is surrounded by shoppers going about their business, but she’s never felt so stranded and alone. They are oblivious to what is happening in front of them.
Gently Anatoli strokes her cheek with a gloved finger, and her stomach recoils.
Don’t touch me.
“I’ve come to take you home,” he says casually, as if they’d been talking only yesterday. Alessia stares at him, unable to speak. “No kind words? You are not pleased to see me?” His eyes flash with a spark of irritation—and something more, something darker. Speculation? Admiration? A challenge accepted?
Bile rises in Alessia’s throat, but she swallows it down. He grasps her arm at her elbow and squeezes. “You are coming with me. I have spent a small fortune tracking you down. Your parents are devastated by your disappearance, and your father says you sent no word back to them that you were safe and well.”