Total pages in book: 99
Estimated words: 92957 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 465(@200wpm)___ 372(@250wpm)___ 310(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 92957 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 465(@200wpm)___ 372(@250wpm)___ 310(@300wpm)
I see Lev, my younger brother, the fierce look in his eyes so familiar to me, and Ollie, loyal to the core but dangerous as hell. Mikhail, the eldest, in some ways not unlike my husband—protective and stern and utterly devoted to the safety of his family.
And my mother. My beautiful, elegant mother, with her mane of silver hair and dancing eyes.
But who’s the other person standing beside us? He isn’t in the pictures, but the blogger managed to capture him in the same shot. I blink, staring, because he’s familiar.
My breath catches in my throat, but what makes a chill snake down my spine is when I recognize him… because today I ate lunch with someone with that exact sharp jawline and cold, calculating eyes.
Gleb.
Why is Rafail’s cousin in my family photo?
My breath catches in my throat, and my heart pounds. How did I get here? Did Gleb orchestrate all of this? The walls feel like they’re closing in as I try to make sense of it all. Was it all a lie from the beginning?
I try to swallow the lump in my throat, to no avail.
How did I get here, and what did he have to do with it?
Chapter 25
RAFAIL
Zoya and Yana sit on the comfortable couches as I leave the room. Popov didn’t have much to offer except a promise to destroy us if we break anything, do anything stupid or dangerous, or leave. None of that’s in the plan, so I let it go.
Zoya looks at me questioningly, but I don’t give her more than she needs to know. “Anissa’s resting,” I say, my voice firm to brook no argument. What Anissa and I shared is ours. She’s mine, and I’ll protect her privacy—just like I’ll protect her from everything else.
Yana frowns toward the bedroom, her gaze more calculating than Zoya’s. She’s so fierce, I almost take a step back. “What did you do to her? I swear to god, Rafail—”
“She’s fine,” I snap at her. “She’s my wife. What the hell do you think I’d do?”
She blows out a breath and shakes her head as Irma and Eduard come into the room, followed by Matvei. Rodion and Semyon are the last to join.
Rodion leans back, glancing around the room with a grin. “Gotta hand it to Popov, this place is slick. Low profile, secure as hell, but it’s got that… what’s the word? Ambiance. Grit.” He gestures toward the brick walls and industrial lighting. “Feels real. Someone could drop an atomic bomb, and we’d be safe.”
“Yeah,” I mutter. “Let’s not test that theory.”
Rodion shrugs, his gaze flicking to the sleek shelves stocked with high-end bottles of whiskey and vodka, but I don’t miss the way his fingers twitch, looking for a distraction. “And the booze? His taste is impeccable. Look at this stuff. Top-shelf, man. A single sip could take off the edge.”
I level him with a look, and he squirms. “Go ahead, drink up,” I say, my voice low with warning. I cross my arms over my chest. “Lose control. That sounds like an excellent idea when everything’s at stake.” I lean forward. “Touch any of that shit, and you’ll regret it.”
Rodion sighs but lifts his hands in surrender. “Point taken, big brother. I’ll admire it from afar.”
I grunt and turn to Matvei, who’s watching us both with a grin, his large frame hunched over on the couch beside Rodion. “Where’s Gleb?”
“Using the bathroom.” He shakes his head. “He takes a while. I swear to fuck, he falls in.”
“Checking in on his—” Semyon’s eyes shoot to Irma and Eduard before he looks back to me. “Investments.”
I’d bet my ass said investments are illegal and dangerous, but I don’t have time to deal with that.
I shake my head and sit on the edge of an ottoman.
“I want to check in with everyone. We need to make sure accommodations are alright.”
“It’s fine,” Eduard says, while Irma looks like she’s bitten into a lemon. “Are you going to tell us why we’re here?”
I nod. “You all know that I trust the Popovs. And what he told me makes sense. We’re all in danger.”
I fill them in as best I can.
“Polina Romanova,” Zoya says, shaking her head. “Are you sure?”
I nod. She looks at the bedroom. “And is she…”
“I don’t know,” I say. I feel like a prick when she flinches as if I struck her. I shake my head. “I need more answers, but I don’t have them, not yet. For now, we believe we may be targeted—perhaps wrongly—by the Romanovs and the cartel.”
“So, how long do we have to stay here?” Irma says with a frown.
“Until I know we’re safe.”
Eduard leans back in his chair and slides his arm over Irma’s neck, but she flinches and pushes him away. He goes on as if she didn’t just disrespect him in front of all of us.