Total pages in book: 105
Estimated words: 98755 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 494(@200wpm)___ 395(@250wpm)___ 329(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 98755 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 494(@200wpm)___ 395(@250wpm)___ 329(@300wpm)
I step in front of him, then approach my father, wiping my hands on my overalls. I’m not sure what type of cover story I can come up with for having a detective in my workspace, but I’ll have to think of something quick-smart.
“Your mother asked me to check on you,” Dad says as my aunt pushes past him.
“Pfft. Is that the story we’re sticking to?” She rolls her eyes and comes to give me a kiss on the cheek in greeting. She quickly scans the room, a low hum of approval, considering she was the one who bought me this place as a gift for my eighteenth birthday. And then her gaze lands on Braxton.
She eyes him up and down, and I know she knows he’s a police officer. Even if he’s not dressed like one, she knows when someone isn’t one of us. She’s very good at managing people, or more so identifying them for who they really are.
“And you are?” she asks suspiciously as my father steps farther into the room and shuts the door behind him. My father’s glare shifts to me, and I’m uncomfortable at its fierceness. I’ve never disappointed my father. Never so much as given him a reason to ground me, let alone not trust me. But it’s as if I’m feeling all of that tenfold.
I go to speak, but there’s a lump in my throat. I’ve never felt the wrath of the Ivanov siblings, and I’ve never had to endure their judgment. That dark little thing within me wants to stand up to them, but who am I but a child in a game they’ve been playing all their life?
“I’m Braxton,” Braxton says as if saving me from my own cowardice. He jumps off the stool and leaves my coffee mug on the counter. “I was just dropping off a coffee for Hope.”
“Is it poisoned?” Aunt Anya asks with a thick Russian accent. It means she’s angry. My father remains quiet, and it unsettles me the way he watches my every move. Especially when I deliberately step in front of Braxton, too terrified that either of them will act on impulse and ask questions later.
“Poison is not my forte, although I heard it was for one of your sons recently.”
“Excuse me?” Anya grits and steps forward. I seem to surprise both of them as I shove myself between them. I have my hand on her shoulder and the other pressing against Braxton as he smirks.
My aunt will definitely kill him, especially because of the mention of her sons.
I give Braxton a disapproving glare. Picking a fight with my aunt is not the way to do this. “Braxton was just leaving. He was following up on that case from when I got arrested.”
“Arrested?! You didn’t tell me this,” Anya seethes at my father. But my father says nothing, just stares into Braxton’s soul as he readjusts his gloves, most likely thinking of all the creative ways he’s going to kill him.
“You should leave town,” Anya is quick to say to Braxton. “Not that I think you’ll get far with broken legs.”
“That’s enough!” I yell as Braxton goes to reply. “You should leave. Now.”
Braxton’s gaze shifts to me, staring at me like I’m a stranger. It hurts more than it should, and my stomach sinks as if I’ve betrayed him, but I’m literally doing all I can to de-escalate the situation so he leaves here alive. Why does he not understand that?
“I’m not scared of your family, Shortcake.”
But he should be. Right now, though, the way he looks at me, it’s as if he’s pitying me. As if I’m more scared of them finding out about us than he is. That makes him, by definition, crazy.
“Go,” I mouth. He’s reluctant to leave, but I don’t need to remind him that this is my family. They may be dangerous, but never to me.
He grinds his jaw and kicks up an insincere smile. I’m certain he does it to piss them off even more. My aunt looks at him like he’s filth and doesn’t move out of his way. He steps around her, and then my father blocks his path. My father is slightly shorter than Braxton, but he oozes a cold sense of control. My skin prickles with the deadly intention in the air.
“Dad?” I say, grabbing his attention. His gaze grudgingly moves me, and I mouth, “Please.”
His eyebrows furrow slightly as if confused. Perhaps it’s because of the words that go unsaid. I’ve never begged my father for anything. But I’ve never had anything I’ve wanted to protect so badly besides my privacy. And I’m certain that, even if I haven’t said it out loud, that my father realizes I love Braxton. Even when I deny it, which I will. I’ll stand between them if he tries to hurt Braxton in any way.