Total pages in book: 105
Estimated words: 99191 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 496(@200wpm)___ 397(@250wpm)___ 331(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 99191 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 496(@200wpm)___ 397(@250wpm)___ 331(@300wpm)
It was useful information, but he wasn’t prepared to do anything about it currently. Whatever Seamus O’Malley thought, Dmitri and Aiden had a temporary alliance. The O’Malleys would help him with his Eldridge problem, but the true reasoning behind his request for assistance had nothing to do with an enemy.
He wanted Keira.
More, he’d already decided that he’d have her. There was no other option, no other acceptable outcome. He’d put his ring on her finger, and she would be exchanging vows with him at the earliest manageable date.
There wasn’t a damn thing Seamus or Aiden or the rest of the O’Malleys could do to stop it.
He took out a second phone, one he’d secured for a single purpose, and dialed. It rang several times, before a breathless Keira answered. “You know, it’s funny, but I distinctly remember only owning one phone. And yet I hear a ringing and there’s this little sucker in my underwear drawer. Creepy, Dmitri. Really creepy.”
Underwear drawer? He drummed his fingers on the desk. He was going to have to have a…talk…with Vance about the appropriate places for him to go digging through—namely, not Dmitri’s intended’s panty drawer. “Apologies on the placement.”
“But not on the fact that you had one of your goons sneak into my room.” She tsked. “Typical.”
It struck him that he’d never heard Keira quite so lively. Every time they’d encountered each other, she’d been under heavy doses of drugs or alcohol. She sounded downright sober. “How did you like Krav Maga?”
“Stalker much?” Keira sighed, but the sound was almost happy. “I’m only telling you this so you know I can beat your ass if you think about trying some messed-up shit with me, but it was amazing. Hitting made me feel…”
“Powerful. In control.” He understood, even if he didn’t have a love affair with violence the way some men did. Violence, in its many forms, was a tool. A weapon was a weapon, no matter the flavor, and all weapons were to be utilized.
“Yes.”
And if there was one thing his Keira craved, it was power and control. He’d gotten that right, even if she didn’t want to admit it before now. “I suppose now I know where to take you for special occasions.”
“Careful there, Dmitri. You’re starting to sound more man than monster. I might get the wrong idea.”
“Make no mistake. I’m the monster. Forgetting that would be detrimental.”
“Because you’ll beat me?”
He went still, icy rage freezing out the amusement their conversation had spawned. “Does your father beat you?” Aiden didn’t. He would have known if her brother—any of her brothers—hurt her.
But Seamus O’Malley had disappeared into the country before Dmitri set his sights on Keira. If he had mistreated her, it wouldn’t necessarily have come to light. There’d been no hospital records, but that didn’t mean a damn thing when someone was wealthy enough to have a personal doctor on call.
“And if he did?” The happiness was gone from her voice, too, leaving the apathy he recognized. “What would you do? Would you ride in on a white stallion and cut him down?” She laughed. “Please. You’re all monsters. Hell, I’m a monster, too. You don’t get to play the savior when you’re no better than he is.”
She hadn’t admitted one way or another, but Dmitri sure as fuck was going to find out if Seamus O’Malley had hurt his youngest daughter.
For now, he focused on the woman on the other end of the line. “You don’t need a savior, Keira. You’re more than capable of saving yourself.”
Again, that broken laugh. “And you’re just telling me what you think I want to hear. Admirable effort, though you missed it by a mile. You’re supposed to say that of course you’ll save me from my wretched life, and that you definitely aren’t the man my family makes you out to be, and naturally I’ll be the coddled and protected wife who you’ll fall madly in love with.”
He stared at the painting on the wall across from his desk. It was a winter landscape, calm even as it was brutal. In that world, like in his, only the strong survived.
Only the monsters.
The picture she painted was even further from reality than the one on his wall. There were no white knights or saviors in their world, and he was just as bad as the members of her family. Worse, in many ways.
Love? There was no room in his life for love. Love was for the weak, the idealists, the people who became casualties because they opened themselves up for a shot to the heart.
Keira sighed. “That’s what I thought. We both know what this is—and what it isn’t. So do me a favor and don’t talk to me like I’m a fool.”
Somewhere along the way, he’d lost control of this conversation, and he hadn’t even been aware of it until now. Dmitri resumed drumming his fingers on the desk. “Do you like your ring, Keira?”