Total pages in book: 91
Estimated words: 92160 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 461(@200wpm)___ 369(@250wpm)___ 307(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 92160 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 461(@200wpm)___ 369(@250wpm)___ 307(@300wpm)
Totally normal behavior.
I grit my teeth and growl.
“Hey, I’m just saying, if it walks like a duck, fucks like a—”
“Shut the fuck up.”
“Oooh. Touched a nerve?”
Touched fucking all of them.
“I’m just giving you shit. You’re one of the last to fall, and this woman’s gonna do you in. Mark my words.”
She will not. She’s here because I forced her, not because she wants to be.
“Fuck you.”
“It’s alright,” he says, snarky as fuck. “You can do this. Be a big boy. Use your big boy words.”
I exhale through my nose. “I fucking hate you.”
“Nah, baby, you love me. Now go take care of your girl and figure out what the fuck Cillian O’Rourke wants here.”
I hang up the phone as Anissa polishes off the last of her toast. “You men show affection so strangely,” she says, shaking her head. “Probably your bestie on the line, eh?”
I glare at her.
How’d she know?
But when she busts out laughing, I huff out a breath. “I tease, I tease,” she says, drinking from her steaming mug of tea. “I saw Rodion’s name pop up on the caller ID.” Her gaze levels with mine. “You don’t think you’re the only one who knows how to stalk, do you?”
I definitely fucking don’t.
The perpetual glint in her eyes fades a bit. “Did he say something about the Irish?” I note the way she moves without meeting my eyes, standing to rinse her dish and put it in the dishwasher. She takes out a mug and pours me a cup of coffee. “Cream? Sugar?”
I shake my head and take it black.
“Cillian O’Rourke’s in town.”
Something flickers in her gaze. “That’s strange. Why?”
“That’s a good question, isn’t it?”
She wipes crumbs off the counter and doesn’t meet my eyes. “Thought you were friends now.”
“We’re allies.”
She looks over her shoulder. “There’s a difference?”
“Yes.”
Leaning her ass up against the counter, she looks genuinely curious. “How?”
“You lay down a life for a friend. A friend calls you, you drop everything and go to them. A friend has a kid—they’re your blood. An ally means you don’t fight, doesn’t mean shit about actual loyalty.”
You take a brand for a friend.
You bury the body of a guy you fucking loved out of loyalty because he broke the code.
No. Cillian O’Rourke is no friend of mine. I don’t like that he’s sniffing around, asking questions about their missing forger.
“I love how you frame it all so generally,” she says with a sad smile. “And no, people don’t treat each other that way for friendship. You do.” Her gaze flickers away. “That’s you, boo. Not everyone.”
Doesn’t matter.
She goes on. “Alright, so today we buy me clothes, and we go find Mr. O’Rourke. Make small talk. We meet him, and I’ll tell you exactly why he’s here.” She smiles sweetly and clucks her tongue. “And here you thought you were just bringing me back for my pussy.”
Jesus.
But she’s right. Who better to ferret out O’Rourke than the woman who worked by his side for years?
“So I need clothes. Makeup. Nighttime eye cream before I develop bags. God. Shoes. Maybe a mani-pedi. Do they have gel polish here?” She winks at me. “Lingerie. Can’t exactly keep wearing nothing but your oversized tees, can I?”
No, no, she cannot.
“So what’s around here? I want options. You do want me to look presentable, right? And go ahead, tell me your greatest fantasy. School teacher? Sexy librarian? I can do that too.”
My greatest fucking fantasy is standing in my kitchen.
“Why the long face?” she asks curiously. “Afraid the brutal Brava enforcer’s become a glorified shopping assistant?”
My fucking god, I will tattoo my name across her ass before she steps foot outside of this house.
She’s playing me, but I already know I’m going to let her win.
Anissa’s back’s to me as she’s rifling through my fridge. She spins around with a carrot stick in her mouth. “And also, this might be the only time I ever admit your mother is right, but you do have a serious lack of food in this house. Can we get some food?”
I should’ve left her in the cage. Could’ve fed her fucking triangles of toast right through the metal bars.
The dryer buzzes down the hall.
“Go get changed. We’re heading into town.”
Chapter 13
ANISSA
It’s kinda interesting going into town with a guy like Matvei. He parts the crowd with a look. I’m not even sure he knows he’s doing it.
His hand rests on my lower back, a sign of possession. Men don’t even look at me. Women stare at him, then me, wide-eyed and fascinated. And many obviously recognize him.
I’ve never been in this little town outside of Moscow before, but I’ve heard about it—small, tight-knit. Ruled by Bratva. They’re known for their excellent food, curated shopping, and Bratva enforcers.
He walks beside me as we look for O’Rourke under the pretense of shopping, but he’s nowhere I’d expect him. The bars, the alleyways, the usual haunts. He’s a big guy, hard to miss.