Total pages in book: 103
Estimated words: 95627 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 478(@200wpm)___ 383(@250wpm)___ 319(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 95627 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 478(@200wpm)___ 383(@250wpm)___ 319(@300wpm)
Which begged the question: why was she still here?
"I—" I took a deep breath, expanding my lungs; the resulting agonizing pain from my screaming ribs was welcome. I used it to clear the haze from my mind and focus. There was too much riding on this conversation for me to fuck it up. "I take pleasure in punishing you, but I would never hurt you, not the way those men would have."
One of her perfectly shaped eyebrows rose in a judgmental arch. Despite everything, heat rose over my skin at that loaded look.
"I might inflict pain to prove a point," I continued, "but I always temper it with pleasure."
She considered that for a moment, her teeth catching her bottom lip in a way that made me want to replace them with my own. Finally, she nodded reluctantly. "You do."
"And you like it," I added, trying to give her a cocky smile that probably came out as more of a grimace when another wave of pain rocked through me.
A noncommittal noise came from the back of her throat, but her cheeks flushed pink. Yeah, she liked it. The knowledge sent a surge of possessive satisfaction through me that had nothing to do with my injuries.
"If you don't like it, why did you stay?" Asking again was probably pushing my luck. A wiser man would have just been grateful she was here. I, however, needed to know.
Her eyes met mine, unblinking and intense. "Because I have questions, and you're the only one who can answer them."
"What questions?" I asked, fighting to keep my eyes open. Her voice was musical, and I was afraid that if I let myself sleep, I'd never hear it again.
"Why did that man threatening me make his death personal?"
I reached out, ignoring the pain that shot through my shoulder, and traced my thumb along her jawline.
Her skin was impossibly soft beneath my calloused hand. "Because you're personal. Everything with Solovyov is business. The way he's coming after my family feels personal but it's not, it’s business. It's not driven by our personal vendettas, no matter how much we hate each other. It's driven by the need for power and influence. Business."
She stared at me, waiting for me to finish, then lifted the glass to my lips again for another drink. Her fingertips lingered on my bottom lip for a fraction of a second too long to be accidental.
I reached out and gently brushed a lock of hair out of her eyes, tucking it behind her ear.
She pressed her cheek into my palm, and a strange calm settled over me.
I was alive, and she was here with me.
For now, that was enough.
"Them coming after me, trying to take my life, was about business," I continued, my thumb absently stroking the soft skin behind her ear. "You are not business. The way I feel about you is personal. That man hurting you wasn't business."
The part I didn't say out loud was that they were still operating within the rules by targeting her.
She did not bear my last name.
Until she did, she wasn't untouchable.
Her eyelids fluttered at my touch, and she leaned imperceptibly closer. "How do you feel about me?" she asked. My blood ran hot at the sly smile playing on her lips.
"I feel like I want to know why you didn't leave." I held her gaze, unwilling to let her distract me from the question that had been burning inside me since I woke up.
Viktoria cast her eyes to the floor as a pink flush colored her cheeks, spreading down her throat to disappear beneath her shirt.
I found myself wondering how far down that blush went.
"I'm here because you killed for me," she said finally. "You flipped the dining room table and took cover to keep those men away from me. You stupidly tried to sacrifice yourself to keep me safe."
Her eyes snapped up to mine, suddenly fierce. "Never do that again."
She stopped, her eyes flashing over to the fire as her teeth sank into her bottom lip.
God, I wanted to taste those lips, to soothe the sting with my tongue, but I held back.
There was more she wanted to say.
All I had to do was give her the time and space to say it.
"I could've run," she continued, her voice stronger now. "I could have left a dozen times. Hell, I probably could've convinced your brother to give me a lift to the nearest train station."
She shifted, rising from the floor to perch on the edge of the sofa beside me, her thigh pressing against mine. The heat of her burned through the thin fabric of my sweatpants. "I stayed because I wanted to. We fight because you don't give me choices. Have you ever considered that if you had told me what was happening, if you had brought me into the thought process and given me a choice, I would have chosen you?"