Total pages in book: 31
Estimated words: 28975 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 145(@200wpm)___ 116(@250wpm)___ 97(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 28975 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 145(@200wpm)___ 116(@250wpm)___ 97(@300wpm)
This fucking sucked.
Anastasia took off, and she made the clearing toward the main garden, but it wasn’t enough time. She heard Bogdan advancing toward her. Veering left, back into the main flower garden, she quickly removed her sneakers and ran. The sneakers were making way too much noise, and she needed to be quiet. She tried not to panic.
This reminded her of that very day she was remembering with Gustov.
She crouched down behind one of the hedgerows and began to crawl along the ground. She made it around a corner and heard his footsteps. She hoped he didn’t have great hearing, because her heart was racing.
Gustov had been fun, almost like a game. This didn’t feel playful, and she had a horrible feeling that if she didn’t succeed here, she was going to die, and that alone was terrifying.
Her husband could kill her. This could be what he was waiting for. Did he want her wealth? Was this what her father hoped to avoid, by trying to take it for himself? Her head was not in the game, and this was not right. Bogdan didn’t want her money. He could have ended her life long ago.
This was … she didn’t know what this was, but then she heard him get close, and she paused. She waited.
From her vantage point, she saw his home up ahead. She didn’t have a clue where any of the garden sheds were, and no way to defend herself. The gardens were clean with no tools in sight that she could use as a weapon, and that meant she had to get to the house.
She took a deep breath. Counted to ten. Then she took a run, but she should have known he was close and gaining ground. She took off, running across the grass, but she was not up to the speed Bogdan was. Before she even made it halfway, he tackled her to the ground.
She would not go gracefully. It was a scuffle, one she had a feeling didn’t look elegant or right, but she managed to get free, only to have Bogdan capture her and take her to the ground. Within seconds, he had her arms trapped above her head, his hips pressing against her open thighs.
“Never get your arms trapped. Never allow them to spread your legs open. They can trap you and hold you captive and there is nothing you can do.”
Anastasia stared up at Bogdan. She didn’t know what she expected to see. Him gloating? Disappointment?
There was a smile on his face. This was not what she was expecting.
“What? Why are you smiling?”
“Because I have a feeling you’re going to handle yourself just fine.”
“Handle myself?”
“Gustov was a good teacher.”
She rolled her eyes. “He couldn’t have been that good. I’m trapped, and not in a good way either.”
She pulled on her arms and tried to glare at him, while trying not to think about the fact he was pressing against her core.
“You’re good, Anastasia.” He leaned forward so his lips were right against her neck. She couldn’t help but hold her breath, and then she felt his whisper. “I’m just better.”
And then he kissed her cheek. It was a soft kiss. She felt her body tense, but it wasn’t in a bad way. His kiss felt nice. He hadn’t kissed her since the wedding.
She liked his kisses, and the strange thing was, in that moment, she wanted to kiss him again to see if the kiss they shared was as good as she remembered.
****
Bogdan wasn’t happy. Being called from his country home to deal with a problem was not how he wanted to spend his Saturday. He’d already given Anastasia the gun he’d purchased for her. Now that he knew she was more than capable of taking care of it, he didn’t see a reason for her not to be armed. He didn’t know at what level of desperation her father was, so he was much happier to be prepared.
With that, he was not going to leave her alone, so he left her at the main nightclub. The bar wasn’t open yet, and he’d ordered the barman to put on some tunes for his wife.
He was down in the basement of the club, dealing with a potential spy. This is what called him away from his current work.
Stepping into the basement, he saw Ivan smoking a cigarette, and the moment the other man saw him, he approached.
“I found him texting,” Ivan said.
“This is what you called me away for on a Saturday?” Bogdan asked.
“Look at the texts.”
He took the cell phone from Ivan, brought up the screen, and sure enough, numbers and dates had been sent in a text. Scrolling through all the data on the phone, ever since the man had been hired, there were numbers and dates going back to that point.