Total pages in book: 83
Estimated words: 79312 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 397(@200wpm)___ 317(@250wpm)___ 264(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 79312 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 397(@200wpm)___ 317(@250wpm)___ 264(@300wpm)
“I’ll tell you after coffee.”
“Ah, so you’re one of those guys who’s a bear until he’s had his coffee.”
He growls as if he’s incapable of speech until that caffeine hits his veins.
I love this kitchen. I won't tell him because I don't want to give him the satisfaction. It's all stainless steel appliances, high-end stuff like a chef might have, immaculate, clean, and filled with bright light, possibly the brightest room in his whole house. He walks over to the counter, which he has set up with a little coffee station. I squeal. This is perfect, like something you'd find on a Pinterest board.
“This thing makes caramel vanilla lattes? Are you kidding?”
He shrugs. “I’m well stocked.”
He knows my favorite things. Is he trying to seduce me?
How much does he really know about me?
He grunts, takes out the cup, and slides it under the Keurig. “I got that for you.” He doesn't look at my eyes.
I take it from him gratefully.
“What do you drink?”
“Espresso.”
“Straight black?”
“Mmm.”
Of course.
If he has my favorite coffee creamer in that goddamn fridge—he opens it, takes out the matte-white creamer bottle, and slides it across the counter to me. “Vera told me what you like. It's good stuff. Of course you like it.”
I'm not sure what that means. He hands me my latte and makes his espresso.
Nikita comes up to me and licks my hand. “You're such a pretty girl.” I bend to scratch her ears. She does that thing that dogs do, unable to hide this near bliss she has when I scratch her ears. Her eyes go half lidded, and her ears go back. “Such a pretty, pretty girl,” I croon. I love her.
Viktor sips his espresso, his eyes burning into me.
“What? I can't scratch her ears?”
“You have to stop putting motives behind my looks; it isn't fair, and you don't know me.”
When he turns away, I snort. “Oh, that's right. Hello, pot calling the kettle black.”
Frowning, he walks over to a white pastry box on the counter and takes out a pastry bigger than his hand, drizzled in white sugar and sliced almonds. My mouth waters.
“What? I'm not doing that to you. I mean, isn’t that what you’re doing to me?”
“Assigning motives to someone and understanding what they're thinking are two completely different things, Lydia.”
I stand and walk away from him to assess the situation.
I take a frying pan and slide it onto his stove. He has one of those fancy flat induction things. Heat instantly springs to the pan. I throw a pat of butter in, and when it's nice and hot and sizzling, I slide bacon into the pan. I fry eggs and bacon, drain it all, and put it on a plate with a sprinkle of kosher salt and fresh pepper.
He watches me, sipping his espresso. “Don't get used to this,” I warn him. “I'm just starving, and I like your kitchen.”
He only shrugs.
He takes the pastry out of the box and puts it on a plate. We eat in almost amiable silence. Almost.
The food hits my belly, and it's delicious. I eat until I’m full then push my plate away.
“Now, are you ready to tell me about the new developments?”
He eats an egg with one bite, chomps, and swallows, as if it's his life mission to eat with efficiency, slaps butter on four slices of toast, eats all the bacon on the plate, and then reaches for my discarded plate and finishes everything on that.
Shit.
But I guess you have to feed a man like that well. He’s a big guy.
Viktor wipes his mouth and looks at me, his gaze intense. “We couldn't find him.”
My heart skips a beat. “What do you mean you couldn't find him?”
“Our contacts, everyone we have on the ground… He's gone. Disappeared. No trace.”
I stare at him, processing the information. “Isn't that good? He can't hurt us if he’s gone.”
Viktor shakes his head slowly. “It’s not that simple. The fact that he vanished means he might have powerful help. And he might come back when we least expect it.”
Fear coils in my stomach, but I try to keep my voice steady. “So what do we do now?”
His eyes darken. “We stay vigilant. I'll increase security around you and Vera. We can't afford to take any chances. I got you a new phone, and you’ll keep it on you at all times.”
I nod, feeling the weight of his words. His protectiveness is overwhelming, suffocating, but a part of me is grateful. For now, I’m under his watch, and there's a twisted sense of safety in that.
“We’ll heighten security. I’ll train you in self-defense.”
I swallow. “Alright. And what if it doesn’t work?”
“What do you mean?”
“What if you don’t find him? What if he…”
I can’t say it aloud.
What if he kills me?
“That won’t happen because it’s not an option.”
He threads his fingers through my hair. “I promise.”