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)
“You sure Rodion was right? He was heading out of the country and definitely not here.”
Matvei’s lip curls into something like a half smile, but his gray-blue eyes are steely. “I’m sure.”
Maybe I should be afraid. I should definitely be planning my next escape, but instead, something dark and dangerous and seductive tempts me. Because for all his talk of punishment and retribution, he hasn’t really hurt me. Not yet.
He says it’s about loyalty, about making me suffer. But then why does he stop himself when he could break me? Shove me in a cage as well-furnished as a luxury hotel? Why does he feed me, wash me, and make my body sing? Why does he look murderous when anyone so much as glances at me too long?
I’m playing the long game, earning his trust. But then, why do I watch him when he isn’t looking? Why do I notice everything about him?
Why does something dark and thrilling curl in my stomach when he says I’m his? I need to be careful.
He isn’t the only one losing control.
It’s time I changed the game.
I know exactly how to play it.
“Here, first, please. Do I have a budget?”
“Of time or money?” he asks, stormy eyes narrowed.
“Uh, both?” My eyes light up at the glittering rows of cosmetics and lotions, lip gloss and eyeshadows. It smells like heaven in here. All that’s missing is an excellent little cosplay shop where I could get some wigs and trendy little outfits. I’ll have to go hunting online.
“The quicker we are, the better.”
I nod, lifting a tube of my favorite lipstick, a neutral stain that gives me just a hint of color.
He hasn’t said anything about money.
So I have a little fun. I grab the best skincare products, my favorite makeup. I treat myself to a luxury box of haircare products and a few of my favorite scents. It’s a shopping spree funded by the Bratva. It feels like poetic justice. And even though he doesn’t look at the total at the register, he definitely notes the creepy guy at the exit who scurries away with one look from Matvei.
I buy the prettiest panties and the most comfortable, silkiest bras. A variety of clothes and shoes for comfort and style. And every store we go to, I step up my game.
I lean in too close when he isn’t expecting it, close enough to catch the hitch in his breath.
I brush my fingers over his wrist, light as silk, when I’m looking at options by the lotions. I pretend I don’t notice the way his fingers twitch as if eager to restrain me.
I bare my neck when I spritz on body spray, tipping my chin just so. “Like this one?”
I tilt my head just enough when I speak—letting my voice dip, my lips part. Just enough to make him notice.
And he does. My god, he does.
I can see it in the way his fists clench when I get too close. The way his breathing shifts when I touch him. In the heat of his wicked gaze. Wicked.
He wants to hurt me, but he… doesn’t.
Instead, he shadows me. Watches the way I move. Takes his sweet time threading his fingers through my hair and doesn’t even bother hiding it when he inhales deeply.
“You like that scent?”
He only growls low in response.
Affirmative.
“You see O’Rourke anywhere?” he asks.
I’m frowning at my phone. The text I sent Cillian shows undelivered. “No, and he always read my texts.”
Matvei makes a sharp, irritated sound. “Maybe he finally figured out you were mine.”
I glance up, arching a brow at him. “Yours?” I lean in closer. My breasts brush his chest. I ghost my fingers over the swell of his bicep.
“Tell me otherwise, solnyshka.”
I’m used to arguing, pushing back, but the way he says it—nah. I’m going to sit with this a little longer.
He’s watching me. Not just the way a hunter watches prey. No… this is different. Deeper. Like he’s memorizing my pulse in my throat, my movements before I make them.
“Don’t know what you’re talking about,” I say with a smirk.
We’re standing outside a shop. He’s laden with shopping bags in each hand.
Now might be a good time to run.
“You play dangerous games.”
I feign innocence. “I don’t know what you mean.”
Run.
Too late.
He moves before I can blink. He doesn’t grab or pull me but shifts—hard—so that my back meets the brick wall behind me. Two young women walking past stare, their conversation coming to a stuttering halt. One gives me a look of pure jealousy, and I shake my head at her.
You have no idea.
“Do you think I don’t see it?” His hand comes up, and for a moment, I think he’s going to grab my chin. Instead, he skims his knuckles over the curve of my jaw. I shudder and move closer. I’m wet.