Total pages in book: 113
Estimated words: 106541 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 533(@200wpm)___ 426(@250wpm)___ 355(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 106541 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 533(@200wpm)___ 426(@250wpm)___ 355(@300wpm)
“That choice is not yours to make.”
“But it is yours.”
I shake my head before I can stop myself. It could be my choice if I were willing to put her above Lera and Sofia, but I have so many years to make up to Sofia, and so much hurt, I can’t do that. I didn’t know Sofia existed until I was sixteen and causing trouble that would have landed me in jail. She was fifteen and seeking the brother our mother told her about on her deathbed. Her confession brought out a lot of revelations about my lineage and why I was dumped in a boy’s home as a newborn, but it also arrived with a heap of fucking shit that’s had me in the firing line a lot more than boosting cars from billionaires.
When Katie spots my headshake, she begs, “Don’t let him do this.”
“I don’t have a choice.”
“Bullshit! Tell him no.” She stands and approaches me. “Tell him you want me for yourself, and that you will buy me off him.”
I laugh that she thinks that is possible.
Does she not know this way of life at all? She has lived it for eight years, so she should know better. I learned quickly that the instant you’re in the bratva, nothing is in your control. Not even your life.
I realize her game plan when she cups my face on the scarred half. She thinks I’m a marked-up mutt who’ll do anything for affection.
Even being played by a whore with an untouched cunt.
I move so fast a squeak pops from Katie’s lips when I snatch up her wrist. “Did I give you permission to touch me?” When she remains quiet, her eyes watering, I ask again, “Answer the fucking question! Did I give you permission to touch me?”
“N-no.”
“Then why did you?”
Her lips quiver before she replies softly, “Because I don’t want to die, and you’re my only life line.”
With a grip on her face that rolls tears down her cheeks, I drag her forward until we meet chest to chest. I’m taking my anger out on the wrong person, but that isn’t unusual for me. I’ve done that for over two decades. “I am not your life line, маленький ягненок. I am the sole reason you’re captive. If it weren’t for me, you’d be free.” I push her away from me via her face. “So maybe you should remember that the next time you think you can play me for a fool.”
Not speaking another word, I exit her room then track down the first whore I see.
“You, come with me.”
28
KATIE
No matter how desperate I am, I shouldn’t have tried to convince Ghost I am in love with him. He saw right through the ruse I’m not even sure is a ruse.
He controls everything I do, so why wouldn’t he control my emotions as well?
I eat when he brings me food.
I sleep when he tells me to rest.
So when he said my time is running thin, I went with a ruse I thought would bide me more time.
I was wrong.
Ghost usually hangs in my room every evening until I fall asleep, then he brings me breakfast in the morning.
It’s past noon, and I’ve yet to eat.
This is stupid of me to admit, particularly after he brutally rejected me last night, but I miss his presence more than the yummy food he arrives with. He’s moody and a little hard for me to read, but there are sides of him I don’t think people often see—a man as brainwashed as me.
I’m pulled from my thoughts when a knock sounds at my door. It is unusual. Ghost never knocks. He enters without an announcement, usually when I am in the shower.
My unease drops when I recognize the grin of the man entering. I’ve only seen Alek a handful of times the past three months, but his friendly grin is always welcome.
“I’ve come to escort you to lunch.”
“Oh.” My brain is as empty as my stomach. “Ghost usually brings my food here.”
“Yeah, aah…” He scrubs a hand over his prickly jaw. “He’s busy this morning.”
I hate the way he says busy and how it twists my stomach.
“Aah…” He stops my exit of the room by blocking it with his large frame. “You should probably change.”
When he peers down at my black slacks and off-the-shoulder sweater, I follow the direction of his gaze. “What’s wrong with what I’m wearing?”
Air bubbles in my churning stomach when he replies, “You need to wear white.”
“Oh…” I cringe at my lack of vocabulary today before spinning on my heels and heading for the closet. It is full of pure white clothes that don’t match my virginal status.
How can you feel pure when you’re sullied with a man’s sperm every day for months on end?
Even after changing in the bathroom, Alek still blocks the path.