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)
My heart rate quickens. If Viktor has been watching me, what else has he done without my knowledge? A mix of anger and fear churns in my stomach. Determined to find answers, I pull up a browser and type in, “What does the little blinking dot in the upper right corner of my screen indicate?”
The search results are filled with technical jargon and troubleshooting forums. I glance at several articles, looking for confirmation. Then, I find it—an article discussing surveillance software that can be installed on personal devices to monitor activity.
My blood runs cold. Viktor is tracking me.
Why would I think any less of him? Why would he handpick this high-end phone and not install something to spy on me with?
Future husband, my ass. Protection, my ass.
Well he can fuck. Off.
I lift the phone over my head and smash it to the ground. Nothing happens. Goddamn, these things are indestructible now. I look around the bathroom for something heavy to destroy it with. I see a ceramic vase, so I lift it and drop it as hard as I can on my phone. The vase shatters, but the phone is fine.
Jesus.
For the love of God.
“Lydia? What the hell are you doing in there?” Viktor's voice is sharp through the door. He turns the handle, but I’ve locked it.
“I'm shocked you don't know,” I snap back at him. “You don't have cameras riveted on my every move in here?”
“Lydia,” he warns outside the door. I stare at my reflection as if my monster of a future husband isn’t pounding on that door to get in and continue to apply my makeup. That's when I feel the little bump under the skin on the back of my neck.
What is that? It's a little itchy. I turn and try to look, but I can't see it properly. I assume it's a bug bite or something similar.
Oh my God, if he’s installed a fucking tracker on me—but when I look in the mirror, it just looks like a bug bite. Okay, maybe I’m overreacting. Maybe I’ve gotten way in my head about this.
“Lydia, if you don't open this fucking door…”
I smirk at myself in the mirror and give myself a little shrug. “What are you gonna do?”
And that does give me the upper hand with him. He could march in here and dominate me, but it will only turn me on. He can't control me that way.
“Open it,” he snaps, but he's clearly gotten the memo.
I finish getting myself ready, irritation rising with every second that passes. Finally, I open the door, and he stands in the doorway, filling it entirely as usual. He's wearing a black leather jacket that hugs his muscular frame, a fitted black shirt that accentuates his broad chest, and dark jeans. His shaved head and the scar running down his cheek only add to his intimidating presence. My pulse quickens despite my annoyance at the flash of anger in his eyes.
Ping.
“What was that crash? What the fuck are you doing?”
“Me? You don’t know? Haven't you recorded the bathroom?”
“Of course not. You can have some measure of privacy.”
“Oh, that is rich coming from you,” I tell him. “Jesus, Viktor.” I pick up my phone from the floor. “You tracked my phone.”
He has the nerve to shrug. “I never pretended I wasn't tracking you. Of course I am. How the fuck am I supposed to keep you safe?”
“So, smothering me, keeping me immediately by your side, marrying me, and not letting me out of your sight isn't good enough?”
He scowls. Of course it isn't.
“You were trying to break your new phone?”
“Yeah. It didn't work. What did you get me, some military-grade whatever?”
“Yes.”
I throw my hands up in the air. “Jesus Christ! I was exaggerating. I didn't think you actually did that!”
“Of course I did. You just threw your phone out the window, remember? I knew the chances of you losing your temper and destroying it were pretty high.”
“I wasn’t the one who did that!” I snap.
He shakes his head. “What if you had something important on that phone? Somebody throws this phone out a window, at least you get to keep your pictures or whatever else you have on your phone.”
“You’re snooping on me!”
“I have no interest in snooping on you, but I do want to know where you are at all times. And that is never, ever going to change.” His frown deepens. “So you better get used to that.”
“You better get used to that,” I mimic, my hands on my hips. He takes a step toward me as if to intimidate me, but I’m unfazed. I'm starting to think that Viktor couldn't hurt me if he tried.
“Don't mock me,” he snaps. “God, you're such a brat.”
Fury claws at my chest, an angry, untamed beast. My voice shakes with the effort of controlling it. “I'm not a brat. A brat acts out over stupid things. I don't lie down and let people tell me what to do. Those are two very, very different things, Mr. Romanov.”