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)
Are those… pregnancy tests next to my pink opal?
What the actual fuck?
Now I’m wide awake, glaring into the closet.
Someone was here.
Last night, I convinced myself I imagined it. But I know.
I do not lose disguises.
I do not put my clothes in the drawer like that.
Oh, you bold little fucker. You want to play with me? You have no idea who you’re fucking around with.
I do not run from shadows. I fuck them up and bury what’s left.
I turn and face the room as if my phantom stalker can see and hear me. I give the room the middle finger.
"I am going to find out who you are, and when I do, I’m not going to just kill you. I’m going to erase your entire existence from this planet and make an art project out of your bones. So fuck you.”
Of course there’s no response.
I glance at the window, my instincts humming. Really, the irony is rich.
I’m not the one who vanished this time.
Someone has found me. And they’re making damn sure I know it.
Chapter 3
MATVEI
She’s catching on. But not fast enough. She’s not scared enough.
Not yet.
Good girl.
Right where she belongs. In my sights. Under my control.
I look forward to when she is, but for now, I’m enjoying keeping her off-balance.
It’s been twenty-three days.
Twenty-three days since I left Moscow and came to Dublin. Seven days left before Rafail will hold a meeting with the other men invited to form the coalition.
If the alliance is officially formed as planned, Anissa’s shit out of luck. If the Irish agree to the terms, she might become a bargaining chip or be eliminated to tie up loose ends. They might not need her anymore.
I don’t just want to take her. I have to beat them to it before someone else decides her fate.
I’ve been watching her. She’s made it laughably easy.
McCarthy’s son called her to do a job by the wharf, and I knew she suspected I was there. I saw her fear when she stared at the misplaced towel. The way she looked at the toothpaste with curiosity. How she sat up in bed and stared at her playlist.
I heard her pathetic little threat. Cute.
I don’t need to barge in and force her hand. A little psychological manipulation will go a long, long way.
I know her weaknesses. I know what she likes. I know she values autonomy and a challenge, and she’s skilled as fuck with forgery and speaks several languages fluently.
She thrives on pizza and diet soda like a fucking teenager. I know she gets herself off to filthy, kinky porn.
I know she betrayed my family.
Anissa’s father arranged for her marriage to Rafail. She jilted him at the altar on their wedding day. And now she’s in league with the Irish.
This isn’t just about revenge but loyalty, proof of my devotion to my family. This is personal.
Her betrayal stained my family’s honor, and I’ll make an example of her.
I stare at the footage I have of her on my phone. It was almost a stroke of luck that I found her. I’d been looking with no luck since she escaped. The Irish covered her tracks well, and I had no reason to suspect them. But she grew too complacent with her Irish protectors. Little does she know her time with them has come to an end.
Anissa dresses in wigs, changes the color of her eyes with contacts, and tries to cover up the little birthmark above her lip—her one identifying mark.
I was the one who put her portfolio together for Rafail when they were engaged. I was the one who handed it to my brother Gleb, who handled the rest, but I saw every detail of who she was before she went incognito.
And I was the one who wouldn’t let her betrayal lie. Not after what my brother did. Not after what I owe to the Kopolovs.
So one night, as I was poring over video footage involving the Irish, I saw the curvy figure of a woman who looked a bit familiar. I zoomed in and didn’t recognize her, but when she turned her head, moonlight glinted on her lip. And I knew exactly who she was.
I pull my knit cap down over my brows and walk with my head lowered, going up to the apartment I’m in directly next to hers. It was easy to… persuade the people who lived there that they needed to leave… fast. It was child’s play, switching out the glass behind her wall mirror and making it a two-way. Thirty minutes later, I had what I needed. I get a bird’s-eye view.
I’ve left her alone for a few days on purpose. I want her to question herself, to wonder if she imagined it all. I don’t need to force the issue. Not yet. Watching her unravel? That’s foreplay.