Total pages in book: 115
Estimated words: 107079 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 535(@200wpm)___ 428(@250wpm)___ 357(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 107079 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 535(@200wpm)___ 428(@250wpm)___ 357(@300wpm)
Emanuela rolled her eyes. “It is next week, but close enough. And you’re my gift!” She sprang forward, wrapped one arm around his back, and pulled him into a kiss.
30
ALISON
Time seemed to stop, probably helped by the fact that the entire restaurant fell silent. Everyone was watching the kiss, even the waiting staff. It wasn’t just a quick brush of the lips: Emanuela had clamped herself on like a limpet and was working her lips, moving and pressing. Her free hand was stroking Gennadiy’s jaw, and from the way her cheeks were moving, it was obvious her tongue was in his mouth. I felt myself take a furious step forward.
Then it got worse: she opened her eyes and stared right at me. She started grinding her body against Gennadiy’s, smooshing her full breasts against my man’s chest while she let out theatrical moans and gasps, her eyes never leaving mine. She was soaking up my outrage and horror, basking in it…
Gennadiy pried himself free and staggered back, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand. “Emanuela!” he hissed.
Emanuela burst out laughing: a beautiful, musical sound. “Look at her,” she said, looking my way. “She looks so angry!”
I opened and closed my mouth, flushing to my roots. I was angry, and humiliated, because...well, because... What’s the matter with me? He’s not ‘my man’. I don’t have any right to— “I see you two know each other,” I said tightly.
Emanuela darted forward, so fast I flinched back. “We did things,” she stage-whispered loud enough for everyone to hear. I realized now what it was I’d heard in her voice: there was a giddy excitement, like a child who’s had too much sugar. “When I was the mob boss’s daughter, and he was the rough, evil Bratva hoodlum.” She curled around me like a snake, her lips brushing my ear. “Would you like to know some of the things he did to me?”
I shoved her back. Not violently, it was just instinct, like brushing a venomous spider off you. But it was enough to make all of her bodyguards draw their guns and aim right at me.
“It’s okay!” said Gennadiy, jumping between us and raising his hands defensively. “It’s okay!”
Emanuela stepped back, grinning, and licked her lips. Then she nodded to her bodyguards, and they lowered their guns.
“We came here to talk, Emanuela,” said Gennadiy.
“Talking is so boring,” said Emanuela. She picked up a steak knife and balanced it on its point on her finger, then flipped it into the air and caught it. “I’d prefer to talk about her.” She grinned at me over her shoulder as she strolled over to the next table. The family sitting there paled when they saw the knife in her hand, but they didn’t dare move. “Where did you find her?” Emanuela asked. She sat down on the father’s knee, and the poor man’s eyes bugged out in fear. “Why doesn’t she have any—”—she drew two circles in the air with the knife—“tits?”
“Emanuela!” growled Gennadiy.
It happened so fast. Emanuela’s hand flashed down, and there was a short, sharp scream of pain. It was only when she stood up that I saw the knife buried in the father’s thigh.
“Don’t talk to me like that,” said Emanuela. All traces of playfulness were gone from her voice, leaving a flat, eerie calm. And I suddenly realized what Gennadiy had meant by ‘delicate.’ Not delicate like a vase. Delicate like a bomb. Oh fuck. The head of the most powerful mob family in the city was completely, terrifyingly, unstable.
The restaurant had gone completely silent again. Emanuela pulled the knife from the father’s leg, drawing a whimper of pain from him, and started towards Gennadiy. There was a white cream gateau on a serving cart, and, as she passed it, she dug her fingers viciously into it to extract the strawberry slice on top, then licked it into her mouth. The knife hung from her other hand, dripping a trail of blood across the pristine tiled floor. She didn’t stop until she and Gennadiy were just a few inches apart.
“Emanuela,” Gennadiy said, with a level of calm I’d never be able to achieve. “Please.” He glanced around the restaurant. “Could we talk in private?”
I blinked in shock. He was trying to limit the damage if she turned violent, even though it meant we’d be away from Yakov, our only backup. He was putting the lives of the civilians before ours. He did have a heart, however hard he tried to hide it.
Emanuela stared up at him emotionlessly, toying with the knife with one hand while she licked cream from the fingers of the other. The tension drew tighter and tighter—
“Fine,” said Emanuela boredly. She dropped the knife and walked out of the room, not looking back. Her bodyguards scrambled to follow her. Gennadiy and I exchanged worried glances...and hurried after them.