Total pages in book: 134
Estimated words: 122242 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 611(@200wpm)___ 489(@250wpm)___ 407(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 122242 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 611(@200wpm)___ 489(@250wpm)___ 407(@300wpm)
Chapter Eight
Faith
"Ihave to ask you something," Octavio says, staring at me from across the kitchen table. He props his elbows on the table, steepling his hands together. Even with the wary look on his face, he's so handsome. His sharp jawline and full lips draw my attention. I don't know how it's possible for someone to look both powerfully fierce and gentle at the same time, but he does.
"What?" I ask, pushing my plate away. I've eaten more in the last two days than I think I've eaten in the entire last year. Every time I turn around, he's bringing me food. He doesn't say anything about it either. He just hands me a candy bar or an apple or an order of fries, and then goes about his business, leaving me in privacy to decide if I want it or not. I always take at least a few bites. I can't help it.
Trying to keep my defenses in place when he's so sweet to me is hard. I feel safe for the first time in my life. When he touches me, I don't feel afraid or nervous. And he's always touching me. It's never anything major—the brush of his hand against mine, him tucking my hair behind my ear, or even running the back of his hand down my cheek—but I think I'm becoming addicted to the way those brief moments of contact make me feel. My stomach flutters and my heart races every time. It's not nerves though. It's something else…something dangerously addictive.
I've slept in his bed since he picked me up and carried me in there three nights ago. With him beside me, I sleep soundly. I haven't had a single nightmare. Even before the shooting, that was a rarity.
I genuinely like him. So much that I've thought about telling him the truth about why Nikolai wants me back so badly. But every time I open my mouth to do it, the words won't come. They stick in my throat, refusing to form. I don't want him to think I'm a terrible person. What if I tell him the truth and he changes his mind about protecting me?
"It's about Tarasova."
"Okay." I lace my hands together in my lap and wait, my stomach churning uncomfortably. He hasn't asked me much about Nikolai. I'm not sure why. He said he wants me to help him bring Nikolai down, but he never brings him up or asks about him unless it's in relation to something I've unwittingly revealed about how he treated me.
"I need to know names, angel," he says with a grimace that makes me wonder if he wants to have this conversation at all. "Aside from Tarasova, who else is in a command position? Who does Tarasova trust? Who is in charge of operations?"
"Ivan Sedov, Maksim Semenova, and Victor Milonov are his lieutenants," I murmur. "Nikolai doesn't really trust anyone completely, so he divides up responsibilities between the three. He makes sure they don't share a whole lot of information with one another. I guess he thinks if no one knows everything except for him, no one can plot to replace him." It seems to work. He rules with an iron fist and carefully orchestrated shows of kindness, ensuring no one dares try to usurp his authority.
"What do you know about them?" Octavio asks and then frowns at me, standing up suddenly. "Hold that thought." He circles around the table to me and holds out a hand, pulling me to my feet.
I follow along beside him into the living room, trying not to think about the fact that he hasn't let go of my hand. Or about the fact that having his hand wrapped around mine feels way better than it probably should.
He draws to a stop in front of the sofa.
"Sit," he orders me.
I peek up at him in question but ease myself down onto the edge of the couch.
He cocks his head to the side and looks at me for a moment before he grunts like he's satisfied. He sits beside me, close enough that I can feel the heat coming off his body, but not so close that I feel crowded.
"You have enough bad memories associated with food because of those bastardos," he mutters when I look at him in question. "Didn't want to have this conversation where you eat."
My mouth gapes open as something warm shoots through me, completely melting me from the inside out. I've never met anyone like him before. He's…I'm not sure what he is, honestly. He's still a mystery to me. He's intense and commanding, but he's also incredibly sweet and thoughtful. He goes out of his way to make sure I'm comfortable. How am I supposed to resist him when he's like this?
Do I even want to resist him?
I'm not sure.