Total pages in book: 70
Estimated words: 66217 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 331(@200wpm)___ 265(@250wpm)___ 221(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 66217 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 331(@200wpm)___ 265(@250wpm)___ 221(@300wpm)
He climbs out of the car and circles around to open my door. Casimir offers his hand. “I’m listening.”
There are people all around us, but I only have eyes for him. “I want you to secure your uncle’s word that the Belmonte territory is off limits.”
His eyes widen. “A bold demand.”
“If he really means to do this without war, then it should be an easy agreement.” Jovan might not hold to his word, but if Casimir does this for me . . . It means something. I can’t pretend it doesn’t.
Casimir plays his thumb over my knuckles. “It will take some time. I have to go to him to have this conversation, to secure this agreement. You understand?”
He’ll have to leave me, at least for a little while. I bite down on the urge to take it back, to demand he never leave my side. I guess I’ve made my choice, after all.
But if I’m going to be a territory leader, I have to prioritize the safety of my territory over my personal comfort. “I understand. Take as long as you need.”
“Not yet. I’ll see you home first.” He laces his fingers through mine and turns to lead me into the airport.
Gods, but I hope I’m not making a horrible mistake.
The trip home is shockingly comfortable. Through mutual understanding, we don’t talk private business on the plane. Instead we watch a new action movie, and Casimir spends the entire time pointing out the foolishness of the main character as he passes me the bits of the trail mix I like—peanuts and raisins—while accepting the bits I don’t love—cashews and M&Ms. There’s a Russian accent filtering his amused words now, but this is familiar enough for me to sink into it through sheer habit.
It gives me hope. That he was being honest that not all of Luke was a lie, that maybe we fit each other even better than I could have dreamed. No more lies. No more hiding the ugly parts of myself. With Casimir, they’re on full display, and he doesn’t shy from their existence. From me.
He laces his fingers through mine and lifts our joined hands to press a kiss to my knuckles. “Relax, baby. It will work out.”
Maybe. Maybe not. But hope is hard to argue with. And so is . . . love.
Damn it.
After we land, we go back to the apartment to change and shower off the evidence of travel. With each minute that ticks us closer to telling my parents the truth, my stress grows. I’m practically vibrating by the time we head down to the car Casimir called.
I sent my parents a text, so they know we’re coming. The fact that I didn’t respond to the dozens of texts from them over the past couple of days isn’t going to earn me any points. I’ve made a fucking mess of this.
“Breathe.” Casimir takes my hand as we walk toward the front door. “You got this.”
“They’re going to shoot you.”
“Maybe.”
I swing around to look at him. “What the fuck do you mean maybe? You can’t seriously be so calm about this.”
“We live in a world of blood and violence, Ruby. But they love you, and I love you, so no one is going to die tonight.”
“That leaves a lot of space for pain and getting shot,” I mutter. I dig my key out and unlock the front door.
“Da.” He opens the door and tugs me inside.
If I hadn’t already known my parents were worried and furious, them meeting us in the foyer would have clued me in. Mother is wringing her hands, but Dad and Da are both locked down.
Da’s expression goes soft when he sees me but hardens immediately as he takes in my hands, linked with Casimir’s. “I think it’s time you explained yourself, Ruby.”
All the words clog my throat, and I have to swallow a few times to get them in order. There are a thousand explanations and excuses lining up in my head, but it’s best to rip off this bandage immediately. “Mom, Da, Dad . . . I’m getting married.” I keep talking over their sharp questions. “To him. Casimir Romanov.”
“Casimir Romanov,” Dad repeats slowly. “You’ve got to be fucking kidding me.”
“Casimir Lukov Romanov, to be most accurate,” Casimir says. He’s so fucking calm in the face of their growing anger.
Da is the one who moves first. He stalks to us, and there’s no warning, no tensing to indicate his intentions. He punches Casimir in the face.
The force of it knocks Casimir back a few steps. I start forward, fully intending to get between them before Casimir strikes back, but he . . . doesn’t. Not even when Da punches him again, this time in the stomach. It bends him in half, and as soon as he rises, Da hits him again.