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)
I want to shake my head. I want to continue fighting, but my exchange with Kirill today is playing tricks with my head. It has me scared. So much so, I’d rather face Ghost’s wrath for lying than have another run-in with Kirill. “I thought I was, but I’m not—” Footsteps sounding down the hallway outside my room interrupt me before I can tell Ghost I only feel fearless when I am with him.
I can’t understand a word our interrupter speaks, but I know it is Alek. I would recognize his deep timbre anywhere.
“I have to go, маленький ягненок.”
I act as if I haven’t faced the last eight and a half years by myself by gripping Ghost’s shirt for dear life. I don’t want to be left alone. “Stay with me.”
“I can’t tonight,” he replies, his angry tone returning full force. “But I will be back.”
He slips out of bed, then either straightens his clothes or the bedding.
My assumption goes in another direction when he advises, “You need to eat. I brought over some of Vera’s ragu for you.”
His unexpected but craved generosity thrusts me straight back into Kirill’s bathroom. “Vera—”
“I know, маленький ягненок, and it’s okay.” I stare at his shadow like he is insane when he discloses, “I asked her to tattle.” He drags his calloused thumb over my lip before murmuring, “Don’t look so worried. I finally know what needs to be done. It is just taking longer to implement. You just need to trust that I’m doing everything I can.”
“I do trust you.” Stupidly.
“Good girl.” He rubs at my lips for the second time like he’d rather it be anything but his thumb touching me before saying in a grouchy tone, “Obey as you’ve been taught, and you shouldn’t face any more issues.”
In other words, don’t talk unless given permission to do so. That was the first lesson beaten into me by Madame Victoria, and the first rule I broke when Ghost pushed me to bite back.
He seems to like me feisty, and Kirill knows that. He wants us to fail because it doesn’t just mean the end for me. Our attraction will cause Ghost’s demise as well.
When a second lot of footsteps sounds through my door, Ghost growls a menacing tone that activates every one of my fiery buttons before he hotfoots it to the door.
He doesn’t open it. He vanishes into thin air, which shouldn’t make sense but kind of does since my door is deadbolted shut every night.
My eyes dart to the door when a loud bang sounds through it. I stop having a near coronary that Alek was taken down for my foolish sobs when one of Kirill’s guards shouts, “Check in.”
“Check in,” I reply, well-rehearsed on the men’s nightly routine.
Showering or not, if you don’t reply in a timely manner, your door gets kicked in for a visual check.
The goon’s next question is new, though. “Are you alone?”
“Why wouldn’t I be?” I curse my snappy attitude to hell before replying more courteously. “Yes.”
I lean over to switch on the bedside lamp when the guard mutters to himself, “I thought I could smell ragu.”
He chuckles out something about snorting too many lines before he stomps to the next room to make sure Kirill’s other brides are still present.
Just as quickly, I race for the tray of food that was delivered to my room between the doctor leaving and Kirill’s attempted murder. The usual brothy soup isn’t under the silver dome. It is Vera’s famous ragu smothered in parmesan cheese and a generous dollop of sour cream. It is warm too, like it was just removed from the stovetop.
Feeling a little gluttonous, I snatch up the bowl and fork, plonk my backside onto the bed, then devour the serving big enough for two without coming up for air.
I pay for my foolishness only an hour later.
Half the ragu ends up in the toilet bowl, the other half in the shower stall.
It doesn’t taste anywhere near as good coming up as it did going down.
My already sluggish steps into the main part of my room slow even more when I detect I’m being watched. It isn’t a good feeling bombarding me, and when it arrives with a snickered, “I didn’t think you’d want to wash again today,” it is nothing close to virtuous.
Recalling Ghost’s pledge, I dip my head before murmuring, “I was unwell.”
“I heard.” Kirill steps closer to me, his walk arrogant. “It’s about time.” He pulls my hair out of my eyes then raises my chin, alerting me to the fact his face is bruised. “Perhaps the doctor was right. Maybe boys don’t cause morning sickness until closer to the second trimester.”
It would be a lot harder to smile at his comment if his face didn’t look sore. His right eye is blackened, and there is a large gash that goes from his left ear to his cheek.