Total pages in book: 88
Estimated words: 84968 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 425(@200wpm)___ 340(@250wpm)___ 283(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 84968 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 425(@200wpm)___ 340(@250wpm)___ 283(@300wpm)
But that was not how the real world worked.
Without another word, I grabbed a notepad and a pen, slamming them onto the table. "Sit."
When she hesitated, I picked her up and then forced her into the chair.
"Write down everything."
"Why?"
"Because I said so. Now. I need details. Your father's name. The names of the men who threatened you. The names of the group your father owes money to. How you paid them. Your grandmother's full name. The name of her nursing home. Everything."
"No. I can't."
She didn't want to do it. She was protecting them from me. They wouldn't get mercy from me, and they didn't deserve her protection.
Standing behind her, I wrapped my hand around her throat again, tilting her head back so she was looking up at me. The way my large hand covered her delicate neck felt right. It just fit, and I couldn't help wanting to feel it over and over. Her soft skin, her life in my hands, the way her pulse fluttered against my fingers as her heart raced.
I wanted her to see the malice in my eyes, to know what I was going to do with that information.
"Do it. It wasn't a question, it was an order."
"And if I don't want to obey?"
My grip tightened.
"Then I'll fuck you into submission. I will take you hard and fast, bent over this goddamn table, and then you will do it, anyway."
She picked up the pen with a shaking hand and started writing.
When she finished, I grabbed the pages and skimmed over the details.
She didn't know a lot. Her father's name, her grandmother's name. She paid in cash. They would just show up demanding payment at least once, sometimes twice a month. She knew the first names of the men who came: Carlos, Tony, and Rick. No mention of who they worked for.
It wasn't enough information to hunt down the debt, but it was enough to start.
Satisfied, I fixed her a plate of food, avoiding the caviar and anything too decadent or strong. She needed her strength, so I loaded the plate with simple, hearty foods. Black bread, roasted meats, carrots and parsnips roasted in a honey glaze.
Then I poured her a vodka and set both the plate and the glass down in front of her.
Alina looked at the food and made a face.
"Eat. You're going to need your strength, and we both know you haven't had a good meal in a long time."
"I'm not hungry," she said, pushing the plate away.
"I wasn't asking." I pushed the plate back toward her and crossed my arms.
Her shoulders slumped and she took a single bite, struggling to chew and swallow.
Her face twisted like the decadent food tasted like sawdust in her mouth.
"It's not that bad." I rolled my eyes. Actually, the food at this hotel was excellent. My cousin had stolen the chef from a top restaurant in Moscow, providing papers and a home for him and his family.
Alina barely moved, barely breathed, as she stared at the notepad like it had betrayed her.
"What is wrong with you?" I snapped. "Is the best food in this country not up to your moldy apple and dollar store ramen taste?"
Her eyes turned to me, that familiar fire sparking in their depths.
"Excuse me for not being hungry after signing my grandmother's death warrant. Not all of us can see death so casually. Not all of us regularly put a gun to someone's head and pull the trigger, figuratively or literally."
Her words were heavy, but even with the emotion I could see the fire dimming and her eyelids drooping. She was exhausted.
That hit me harder than her thinking I would kill a defenseless old woman.
The old woman was valuable to me precisely because she was valuable to Alina. That connection would ensure her compliance. Alina cared about the woman deeply. It wasn't herself she had been protecting; it was her grandmother. This leverage would prove handy.
"I can't just eat like nothing is hap—" Her voice cut out mid-word as her jaw stretched in a deep yawn.
"Did you poison me?"
I sighed.
How was this girl even still alive? She had no idea how to take care of herself.
I lifted her into my arms, my grip firm and possessive as I held her to my chest.
"I didn't poison you, Alina." I tried to soothe her. "You're just exhausted. You've had a long day after what I can only assume were several long years."
I carried her into my bedroom.
I peeled off the sweater, leaving her naked and vulnerable before I tucked her into my bed, pulling the covers up over her then quietly leaving the room.
Resting my head against the door, I took several deep breaths.
Letting my heart break for her and then letting the cold, relentless steel slip back into place.
Alina was mine.
Mine to take, mine to fuck, and mine to protect.