Total pages in book: 97
Estimated words: 94829 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 474(@200wpm)___ 379(@250wpm)___ 316(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 94829 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 474(@200wpm)___ 379(@250wpm)___ 316(@300wpm)
“Right. Okay. I’ll get my things.”
“Don’t get lost this time.”
He’s not smiling, but was that a joke?
Doesn’t matter. He walks away, and I’m left to drag myself into my room, shove my stuff back into my old duffel bag, and find a way to put one foot in front of the other.
“I’m going to fucking kill him,” Evan snarls as he paces across my room. “I’m serious, Dash. I’m going to murder him.”
“Stop it,” I say, picking through my t-shirt drawer. “How the hell do I have so many of these?” I mutter, tossing one into the leave pile. “I don’t even go outside.”
“He sprung a goddamn wedding on you. He did it on your birthday!”
“I have a feeling that was on purpose.” The look on Evan’s face makes me think that was a mistake. “It was a good trick; you have to admit it. If it hadn’t been my birthday, I doubt I would’ve agreed to go anywhere.”
“Fucking bastard,” he snarls and kicks a few pairs of shoes I’d decided to leave behind.
“Don’t take it out on my heels, please. It isn’t their fault.”
“How are you so calm right now? I’d be going ballistic in your place.”
I stop sorting my clothes and look at him. Evan’s always been the emotional one, mostly because he’s allowed to be. It’s safe for a man like him to have big feelings.
He can stomp and storm all he wants. My brother’s six-foot-four and muscular enough to hold his own against nearly anyone. Who’s going to tell him to shut his mouth?
But me? I’m five-foot-nothing. Dad always says I got my mother’s height. If I barked and growled like him, someone would slap me down and make sure I stayed down.
They did it once already, and I don’t need to go through it a second time.
“I’m losing my mind,” I tell him gently. “Last night was the first time I slept outside of the house in twelve years.”
He stops pacing and slumps a bit. “I hadn’t thought about that.”
“Not only did I have to leave my little bubble, but I had to share a room with a stranger. With a random man I’ve never met before. Some guy I’m allegedly married to.” I laugh lightly because it’s crazy. I don’t even have a ring. But I saw the paperwork, and I know this is real.
“I’ll kill him too if he touches you,” Evan says, his expression going hard again.
That’s sweet, but I really doubt it. Evan’s big and strong, but Tigran is terrifying.
That’s like an angry pit bull going up against a raging lion.
They’re both strong, but one’s a born killer, and the other’s just a dog.
“He was fine. We slept in different rooms.”
That deflates him slightly. “Just because you’re married doesn’t mean you have to do anything you don’t want to do. You know that, right?”
I almost laugh in his face. This whole thing is something I don’t want.
But I guess he doesn’t know about the baby clause.
“Thanks, big brother, but I’ll be okay. Tigran doesn’t seem that bad.”
Evan’s mouth twitches, and he looks toward the door. Then he comes closer to me, his voice lowering. “How much do you know about your new husband?”
“Nothing,” I admit honestly.
“I did some digging last night after the wedding. Tigran Sarkissian is really bad news. I’m not telling you this to scare you—”
“Great, thanks, you’re doing a fantastic job,” I say, trying not to sound shrill as panic rises. “How bad are we talking here?” I remember Dad’s fear the night before, and the dots start to connect.
“From what I understand, he’s the Brotherhood’s top enforcer. The guy’s absolutely brutal, Dasha. They say he’s killed at least a dozen of his own family members. Uncles, cousins, anyone who wouldn’t accept his brother’s control. They’re terrified of him down there.”
I wrap my arms around my knees and hug them to my chest. Earlier this morning, I was in his lap. He stroked my scar and spoke to me in that low, soothing baritone of his, and it actually worked. He brought me back from the brink of a serious panic attack.
It’s hard to connect those gentle hands with the man Evan’s talking about.
But I know he’s right. I saw it in Dad’s eyes. That raw fear. It’s even in the way Tigran carries himself, like he knows the world is terrified of him.
And he thinks it should be.
“What do you want me to do about it?” I ask finally, forcing myself to stay calm and centered. I’m not going to have my second panic attack of the day before noon. I can at least save one for after dinner, as a little treat.
“Nothing. I don’t know. I’m just pissed and trying to warn you. I don’t want this for you.”
“I don’t want it for me, either, but this marriage is important.”