Total pages in book: 82
Estimated words: 79326 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 397(@200wpm)___ 317(@250wpm)___ 264(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 79326 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 397(@200wpm)___ 317(@250wpm)___ 264(@300wpm)
I definitely will call my dad and have it out with him.
I allow Brash to escort me to the jet, and we buckle our seatbelts.
As the plane races down the runway, Brash pulls out his phone and makes a call.
“It’s done.” He glances over at me. “I have the Turgenev girl. Prepare the divorce papers. I want them ready to sign as soon as we touch down.”
Everything in me stops. My heart forgets to beat. My breath goes completely still. Grief clears out of my system, replaced by adrenaline.
I unbuckle my seatbelt and surge to my feet, but it’s too late. The plane is taking off.
“Ah ah.” Brash snatches my wrist and yanks me down on his lap. He bites down on the side of my neck like he thinks he’s a vampire.
“Ou!” I yelp. I don’t know if he broke the skin, but there will definitely be a bruise.
“You’re not going anywhere.” His grip on my wrist hurts. There’s a maniacal glee in his voice that chills me. “Your father shouldn’t have refused our initial offer.”
My brain stutters. What offer? What is he talking about? I struggle in his hold.
“As my wife, you’ll soon learn I’m quick to punish and slow to forgive.” He throws me off his lap. I careen into the aisle, banging my hip on my chair before I catch it. “Now sit down and buckle up, or you’ll earn your first punishment right here on the plane.”
Baron
I drift in and out of consciousness. I hear my friends’ voices as they struggle to pick me up and carry me inside.
She’s gone.
I lost Lara.
I force my eyes open and find myself sprawled on the sofa. All of my friends gather around me. Some of their faces pinch with worry. Some scored with rage.
“Anya,” I croak, trying to find her in the group.
“Right here.” She lifts a hand, and I manage to focus on her.
“Where is she?” I croak.
Anya looks startled. For once, she didn’t anticipate my next demand. “Lara?”
“Yes, Lara!” I struggle to my feet and throw my arms out when my vision blackens.
Phoenix shoves his slender shoulder under my arm to prop me up. “You’re in no condition to rush after her.”
“Where is she?” The sound of my own voice nearly splits my head in half. I wipe some blood from my mouth. One of my molars feels loose.
Anya unlocks and looks at the cracked screen of my phone. It must’ve fallen out of my pocket when Brash’s army knocked me down. “Oh shit,” she mutters.
“What?” I thunder.
“She’s at the airstrip.”
Whisper doesn’t have a commercial airport, just the private airstrip used by the wealthy to ferry their private jets in and out of town.
“Take me there.” I limp toward the door.
“Baron, in case you didn’t notice, they had AK-47s,” Zoe says. “We don’t have those kinds of weapons. And even if we did, you can’t start a war like that without calling your dad in first.”
“She’s right,” Leo says quietly. “I’m all for going after that fucker, but we need to think this through.”
I sag against the wall, the movement of my breath paining my cracked ribs. My eyes close. Think, Ben. Think.
They’re right–we can’t start a war. Not without my dad’s backing.
Blyat’!
I should have thought of something to say to Lara to keep her from running. Why didn’t I tell her sooner–at dinner? Or on the drive home? The fact that I’d planned to tell her everything tonight only makes losing her a million times worse. I could’ve prevented that terrible scene out there if I’d just had the nerve to come clean an hour earlier. Or days. Weeks. From the beginning.
Now she’s in the clutches of Abrasha Rostov, and I really don’t think he’ll let her slip through his fingers a second time.
“Can you find out where they’re going?” My lower lip swells more with each moment that passes.
“I can’t just hack the FAA at the drop of a hat,” Anya complains, her brow furrowed.
Zoe pulls out her phone. “Maybe I can get someone to tell me.” She looks up the airstrip and hits the call button on speaker phone.
“Yes, this is Zoya Novikova,” she says in a thick Russian accent that sounds exactly like Leo’s mom, Sasha, when she’s tipsy. “My friend Abrasha Rostov has plane there?”
The guy on the other end says, “Okay.”
“Da. His girlfriend left ring at my house, and I’m checking to see if she’s still there? Do I have time to bring it?”
“Ah…I don’t know anything about that,” the guy says.
Zoe rolls her eyes. “Has Rostov jet taken off yet?”
“Rostov? Uh…yeah, it’s on the runway now.”
“Ahhh, I’m too late. I’ll have to mail it to him. Do you know, are they headed back to Paris? Or was it Moscow?”
“The Rostov jet? No, they’re headed to Istanbul.”
A chill settles over me.