Total pages in book: 108
Estimated words: 100416 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 502(@200wpm)___ 402(@250wpm)___ 335(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 100416 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 502(@200wpm)___ 402(@250wpm)___ 335(@300wpm)
By the time she was done, Cathy was gone and Keira was alone. She set the timer and snagged the coat she’d worn to the store. Setting it down, she sank onto the floor and extracted the three travel-sized bottles of vodka she’d slipped into her pockets when no one was looking. They felt both too small and too large in her hands. She rolled them across her palm, her entire body clenching with the need to uncap them and drain what little liquor there was down her throat. It wouldn’t be enough to get her even slightly buzzed, but it would feel good while she was doing it.
Addict.
She hated that voice. She hated it even more because it sounded a little like Dmitri. Yeah, maybe I am. So what?
Impossible to gain the upper hand if you’re focused on stealing alcohol and drinking yourself comatose.
She didn’t know if there was an upper hand to be gained. For all her talk of making Dmitri pay, the only thing she’d managed to do was avoid falling into bed with him. So far. Maybe she was fooling herself if she thought she could actually…
No. Stop that. You are not this weak, sniveling defeatist. You are a motherfucking O’Malley, and you are not going to give up until the bitter end.
She carefully set the bottles in the back of the bathroom cabinet, behind some cleaning supplies. Keira released a long breath and pushed to her feet, shutting the cabinet door a little harder than necessary. She could feel the presence of alcohol in the room as if it was a shining beacon, and that alone had her turning to the shower. She checked the timer and decided it was close enough.
She rinsed her hair and then washed it, watching the dark rivulets of water run down her body. Impossible to see that visual as anything other than representation of the poison leaving her system. It didn’t matter that it had actually happened days ago. What mattered was that she had made the choice today. No one had made it for her.
And that put a tiny bit of power back into her hands.
Keira took extra time getting ready. It had been forever since she’d worked the glam look, and she was out of practice, but the final result was pretty fucking good. Her now-dark hair was pinned up in a way designed to bring on bedroom thoughts, as if one sharp move would send it tumbling down her back. Subtle smoky makeup brought out the green in her hazel eyes, and she’d painted her lips a bright fuck-me red.
But it was the dress that really brought the whole look home.
The green dress that Cathy recommended was high-end and screamed money and class. That wasn’t the one Keira chose. Instead, she put on the black one. She pulled on a pair of heels and walked to the door to her room, the heavy dress shifting against her skin with every step. It felt decadent and sinful—and looked even more so than the lingerie Cathy had suggested. The Russian won’t know what hit him.
There would be others here for this event, but Keira couldn’t give two fucks. Her body wasn’t her own, just like her life wasn’t her own. It never had been. She’d bargained both away, and even if she hadn’t pulled the trigger on sex, she would at some point. There was no doubt about it. Dmitri owned her.
Well, if he wanted a pet, she’d look like a fucking pet—and she’d make him choke on the truth. She might have technically chosen this, but it wasn’t what she wanted.
Keira lifted her chin and headed downstairs.
She’s late.
Dmitri didn’t let his impatience show as he greeted his cousin. “Ivan, welcome.”
Ivan was a big bear of a man who had a laugh that could roll through an entire room, and was more than capable of smashing skulls with his bare hands. He covered up a clever intellect with meandering words and had been constantly underestimated when they were teenagers. He was still being underestimated, despite being in charge of Romanov operations in the South. “Hello, Dima!” He smacked Dmitri on the back hard enough that he would have stumbled forward if he hadn’t braced for it. “Where’s this wife of yours? I have to bring back a report to my Natasha and she’s going to demand details. O’Malley, was it? She’s, what, the third choice? Fourth? Not like you at all to settle for scraps.”
Dmitri kept his smile tight and unwavering. “Keira was the only suitable choice.” It was the truth, even if reality was slightly more complicated. He’d originally intended to marry her older sister Carrigan, but that deal had gone sideways almost as soon as it was made—she was in love with another man, after all. The other sister, Sloan, had never really been an option for various reasons.