Total pages in book: 92
Estimated words: 86947 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 435(@200wpm)___ 348(@250wpm)___ 290(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 86947 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 435(@200wpm)___ 348(@250wpm)___ 290(@300wpm)
“How is she doing now?” he asked.
“About to come awake.”
“I’ll let you go then.”
“Yeah. Watch your back,” I reminded him. “Your wedding is just around the corner.”
“You too,” he responded. “From what I hear you might be tying the knot before me.”
“Well she’s just received a hole through her back. So I doubt that.”
“Take care, Maxim.”
I wasn’t done with the call. “Before you go, I heard there was trouble at Brighton last night.”
His sigh was heavy. “Yeah, I’m handling that now. I have a meeting with a detective in forty-five minutes. Otari and his idiots got into a brawl with some Armenian gang. Unfortunately for them some rookie uniforms arrived on the scene and they found their stash of weapons and ice. I’m of the mind to just throw them to the authorities for at least a decade. That should be enough to reset their brains.”
That made me smile. “You don’t have the heart to.”
“You’ll be surprised. Anyway, we’ll talk some more after I’ve had my meeting. I’ll leave you with your new bride. One day in your company and she’s already had a knife through her. I fear for what the future holds.”
“With this girl, weapons of steel are currently the least of my concern.”
He chuckled. “Exciting days ahead, Maxim. I have great faith in her.”
I put the phone back into my pocket and went back to the room. As if on cue, her eyelids began to flutter restlessly. I realized then that she must have already been awake for at least a few minutes.
Her eyes opened. They were strained from the pain, the corners crinkling as she tried to reposition herself. She dragged her gaze away from mine and looked down at the IV needle in her hand.
“Why are you here?” she asked, her tone clearly hostile.
I wasn’t in the mood to fight so I decided to take my leave. She was awake, and alive and that was all that mattered… at least for now. Just as I reached the door it was abruptly pushed forward.
I met the furious eyes of the don himself.
“You bastard,” he swore. “Is this how you protect her?”
“Technically she is still under your protection,” after a tiny pause I added, “Sir.”
He was a reasonable man. He noted the truth in the statement and courtesy in which it was expressed and continued on his way to visit his daughter.
Chapter Eleven
Freya
My father hurried to my side and placed his hand over mine. “Freya,” he called.
I sucked in my breath at his use of the name my mother had given me. He hated it and when it appeared on his tongue it meant the situation was grave and he was trying to comfort me. I felt certain it was grave, but at that moment little, beyond the pain and anger I felt at the demon, had sunk in, so I felt quite numb.
The scenes leading up to the second I was stabbed played in my head. They were fresh and hurtful. The cold, unfeeling demon had completely refused to help me even if it meant I would end up dead. I focused my eyes on my father. I must have looked pale and pathetic lying in that hospital bed, because he seemed disturbed. Even in that reduced state I knew right away this might be my only chance to reason with him. I willed the tears to come, but they wouldn’t. I brought back the image of the mangled body of my pet, Pasha, after he ran out in front of a car when I was nine. Soon enough my eyes misted over.
“Papa,” I called out pitifully, keeping my gaze lowered.
“Yes, my dear daughter,” he replied quite sincerely, placing dry kisses on my hand.
My, my, kisses on my hand! He must be feeling especially guilty, or I looked especially wretched. I let even more crocodile tears pour down my face.
“There, there,” my father consoled.
With the drama of a black and white movie, I lifted my eyes brimming over with tears and gazed tragically at him. “Papa, I cannot marry Maxim.”
For a few seconds his cold eyes regarded me expressionlessly. It was almost like looking into a reptile’s eyes. Then he patted the back of my hand affectionately. “Not now, Printsessa,” he said softly. “Just focus on recovering first.”
I knew then that it was pointless. My head flopped back against the pillows.
“Did you see the man who attacked you?” he asked, his voice business-like and brisk again.
I shook my head wearily. Then I shut my eyes, and suddenly felt very, very, very exhausted.
The flowers came as I returned from the bathroom.
Tracy, a cute Japanese intern, rolled me into the room and there it was. A massive bouquet of about two dozen sunflowers, their faces as big as children’s heads was sitting next to the bed. At first I was confused. How could he have known? Then I realized how and it instantly destroyed my mood.