Total pages in book: 70
Estimated words: 68192 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 341(@200wpm)___ 273(@250wpm)___ 227(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 68192 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 341(@200wpm)___ 273(@250wpm)___ 227(@300wpm)
I had to grip the doorway to steady myself as an image of him bleeding out on the floor of his room came to my mind. What if… what if his father had killed him? It would have been my fault. How the hell would I have lived with that?
He’s fine. He’s here now.
He was, and I would protect him. When we were done destroying his family, I would see that he got somewhere safe and had a chance to live the life he deserved. But that meant I couldn’t touch him again. As much as I wanted him to be mine, he wasn’t for me. He deserved so much more than the life of constant danger I had to offer, even if Remington would permit one of his men to marry a Koslov.
“How are you feeling?” He used his good hand to move the cloth from his face and started to sit up. I helped him and moved more pillows behind his back. “Take it easy. I don’t want you to pass out again.”
“I just need to eat.”
I handed him the sandwich, and he grabbed it. “Go slow.”
He took a bite and sat it back on the plate with shaky hands. I opened the water bottle for him, and he took a few long sips. “Go slow with the water too. You don’t want to make yourself sick.”
“It’s not the first time my father has tried to starve me. I know how to handle it.” He said that so casually, like it was something anyone would understand.
“He’s a dead man.”
Nikolai’s eyes widened. “You can’t. Your family—”
“I can and I will. Not now though. Now I want you to tell me what happened.”
“I… I don’t know where to start.”
I wanted to demand he start by telling me how he knew where I lived and what made him think I would save him. He’d been right, of course. I’d fucked up. I’d indulged myself when I knew better, and I wasn’t going to make him pay for my mistakes any more than he already had. I could hardly stand to see the bruises on his face. No one would ever touch him like that again. I would see to that. After a slow breath, I said, “Start from the beginning. What happened after I left?”
He squeezed his eyes shut, then winced.
“It’s all right. Just relax and tell me.”
“I didn’t want you to leave.”
I hadn’t wanted to leave, but I didn’t let myself say that. I couldn’t encourage more of a connection between us.
“I found your tie on the floor in my room. You left it there.”
I scrubbed a hand over my face. How could I have been so stupid? I knew the importance of details. I knew to check any room I’d entered secretly and make sure no one could trace me back there.
You wanted him so bad you couldn’t think of anything else.
That had never happened. Not even when I was a constantly horny eighteen-year-old.
“The next morning, one of my father’s guards woke me and told me I was expected downstairs. My father wanted to see me, and he wouldn’t even wait until I was showered and dressed. I had to go down in only my robe.”
“It’s all right. You’re safe now.” I laid a hand on his leg, and he jumped. I drew back, but he reached for me, taking my hand in his. I squeezed it, unhappy that his skin was still unnaturally cold. The house was stuffy since the air-conditioning couldn’t keep up with the August heat. I held his hand between mine, trying to warm it. “Tell me what happened next.”
“He already knew about us, or at least he suspected, and he demanded that I confess.”
The fucking bastard. “How did he find out?”
“His brother told him he saw you upstairs, and then Mr. Theriot called Ivanov and told him to break the engagement, so he called my father and demanded answers. My father decided I’d asked you to help me and you’d gone to Remington. I tried to deny having seen you, but he sent a guard to search my room, and he came back with your tie. I should have hidden it better. I just put it under my pillow.”
I imagined Niko placing my tie under his pillow, wanting the scent of me there. How long would he have kept it if it hadn’t been found?
“I should’ve gotten rid of it. I shouldn’t have—”
“No. None of this is your fault. I should never have come to your room.”
“I know, but I’m glad you did.”
Before I could stop myself, I reached out and brushed the back of my fingers over his bruised cheek. “What happened next?”
“My father beat me. I don’t think I was conscious anymore when he broke my arm.”
“He will pay for this.”
“Don’t put yourself in danger for me.”