Total pages in book: 71
Estimated words: 66833 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 334(@200wpm)___ 267(@250wpm)___ 223(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 66833 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 334(@200wpm)___ 267(@250wpm)___ 223(@300wpm)
I pause mid-bite. “You made all this yourself? From scratch?”
“Do you see anyone else in the kitchen?”
No, but… “I didn’t know you could cook.”
“I can follow directions.” He pulls out his phone and swipes across the screen to show me the detailed recipes the dietitian sent him.
I set down my plate and scroll through them. The new diet will definitely be healthy. And possibly edible. The toast I’m eating is surprisingly good, the bread earthy and the hummus rich and creamy, but the jury is still out on the rest of the recipes, though I do see my favorite breakfast of grechka with berries on the list.
“I made sure the meal plan took your preferences into account,” Alexei says when I look up from the screen. “I want you to be healthy and happy.”
My heart skips a beat before launching into a gallop. The dark intensity in his gaze makes my skin burn even as his words wrap around my chest like barbed wire.
This is Alexei in a nutshell: obsessive, controlling, yet good to me in so many ways. The more time we spend together, the harder it becomes to remember that this is the same man who’s killed dozens to force me into marriage. Or maybe it’s not the remembering that’s hard but the proper feelings associated with those recollections, the outrage and resentment that should be there but are increasingly difficult to generate.
I clear my throat and look away, picking up my plate to have something to do. “So what’s the plan now?” I ask, demolishing the rest of the toast in a couple of bites. It really is tasty. “Are we going back to Russia or staying here for a while?”
“Your doctors have arranged ongoing monitoring for you in a specialty clinic in Moscow, so we’re flying home tomorrow. We’ll only need to return here for some key scans in a couple of months.”
I set down my empty plate. “And where exactly is ‘home?’”
From my stalking of him, I know Alexei divides his time between Moscow and St. Petersburg and has several residences in both. He also travels quite a bit for business.
Will he expect me to travel with him? Go to all the fundraisers and parties?
The idea is not nearly as unappealing as it should be.
“I had a house built for us just outside Moscow,” Alexei replies. “So that’s where we’ll be heading when we leave here. If you don’t like it, we can build something else at a location of your choosing.”
“You mean I’m going to actually get a say in where we live?” The question comes out snarkier than I intend.
His dark eyes narrow. “Of course. You’re my wife, not my prisoner.”
I can’t help myself. “So long as I don’t try to run, right?”
His jaw tightens, and he steps toward me. “Do you intend to run, Alinyonok?” His voice turns silky. “Are your brothers getting ready to stage a dramatic rescue?”
“You know full well they’re not.” Because I’m dead certain he listened in on my conversations with them, both via phone and in person.
He doesn’t even bother to deny it. “Or so they want me to think.”
For all I know, he may be right. But what I say is, “I’m not aware of any plan, and if I were, I’d dissuade them from it.”
He closes the remaining distance between us to brush his knuckles over my jawline. As usual, his touch sends a wave of heat down my body, making my inner muscles tighten—an involuntary response that highlights just how sore I am.
“Because you don’t want to leave me, or because you don’t want them to get hurt?” he asks softly, his dark eyes boring into me. “You know I won’t let them take you either way, right?”
I draw in an uneven breath. “I do know that.”
This morning, at least. Yesterday, I wasn’t so sure.
“So do you want to stay?” His eyes gleam, a dangerous light entering their depths. “Or are you waiting for another opportunity to slip away?”
I fight the urge to avert my eyes again. “Does it matter? If you’re going to keep me either way?”
He cups my jaw in his big palm. His voice softens, as does the black gaze holding me captive. “What do you think, Alinyonok?”
It does matter to him. I can see it on his face. Just like it mattered to me yesterday whether he still wanted me. This may have started off as an unhealthy obsession on his part, but it’s grown into something more for him… just as it has for me.
I can no longer deny it. Not to myself and not to him.
“I…” My heart thuds as I reach deep for my courage. “I do want to stay.”
That’s all I can tell him right now, but it’s enough. His eyes flare with dark heat, and even before his lips crash into mine and dishes on the table go flying, I know I’ve just sealed my fate.