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)
"No. Yeah, I know. Not this time."
But when I go to check through the apps here, I see a file folder. I click it out of curiosity and freeze when I see a familiar name on one of them.
Gleb.
My eyes dart to the door.
He's still talking, his voice rising and falling, deep in conversation.
I keep two browsers open, ready to shut one down the second I need to.
But I can't help myself.
My fingers tremble as I click on the file.
I turn the sound lower and stare at the footage in front of me.
My heart is in my throat.
On the screen, a man who looks exactly like Matvei—but younger, angrier—hangs by shackled wrists, his body bloodied and bruised.
Oh my god.
I don’t want to watch… but I can’t look away.
It’s a window into Matvei’s past. A glimpse of who I’m really dealing with.
I need to watch.
I need to see what happens.
I can’t make out who stands in front of him, but the deep voice from beneath a hood sounds like Rafail.
"Confess what you did to all of us. Details."
"I tricked you," the man says, voice shaking, equal parts angry and repentant. "I made you believe you were trapped in this, but the entire time, I knew it was a different woman. I knew they were identical. I knew you’d fall for it, that I could trick you into it."
"You conspired to make us enemies of the Romanovs."
They go on and on, discussing details I don’t fully understand. But every word that comes out of the man’s mouth convicts him further.
I know they’re going to kill him. I’m watching brutal history unfold while keeping an eye on the door because if he sees me watching this…
They fire off question after question, one after the other, until finally, Matvei steps forward.
"Recite the Vorovskoy Mir."
The prisoner’s face crumples.
"Matvei, please. You’re my brother. We grew up together. You can’t do this."
"Recite it."
Matvei doesn’t shout.
He doesn’t have to.
He strikes the man with something I can’t see, and the scream that follows makes me flinch.
Matvei’s voice is merciless. "You know the penalty for betrayal. But I want you to know exactly what you did that brought us here."
The door handle turns.
My breath catches.
I rush to click the X button, my hands shaking, and quickly move to the other browser window.
Matvei steps inside, looking down at his phone as he does.
"Making any progress?"
My heart aches.
He’s a monster.
But he’s my monster.
Maybe this is why he loves Edgar Allan Poe—the macabre, the dance with death, the horrible longing for peace that never comes.
Desperation.
Because sometimes, staring into darkness with your own two eyes makes the one you dwell in that much easier to handle.
I manage to speak. "Yeah, I’m making progress. I’ll have it done by the end of the day."
"All right," he says. "Take a break."
He winks at me, and my heart turns over in my chest.
"I don’t want Rafail to think you’ll do exactly what he says the moment he asks."
A smirk.
"I’m the only one who gets that privilege."
I scoff. "That’s what you think."
Chapter 22
MATVEI
Anissa is almost better.
She’s managed to pull herself out of bed, and I’ve allowed it.
She did such an impressive job with the task Rafail gave her that he wants to assign her another. But I tell him she needs a break because she’s been sick.
The truth is—I don’t want her working.
I miss her.
I’ve done everything I can to baby her. And while she protests and insists she can handle herself, she likes it.
I know she does.
And goddamn, I love having someone to take care of.
She praises my cooking and sighs contentedly when I rub her back. We take every bath or shower together now. I love the way she lets me massage her skin and wash her hair.
I even painted her nails. It was harder than it looked.
But it hasn’t been easy not fucking her through all of this.
I’ve banged a few off in the shower, but it does nothing to satisfy my appetite.
I want her hot, tight cunt wrapped around my cock.
Her nails clawing at my back.
Her over my knee because she’s earned a good fucking spanking with her sass.
I want her.
But I don’t want to hurt her.
Rafail gives me a laundry list of tasks, and when I finally go looking for her, she’s nowhere to be found.
“Anissa!” I yell, fearing the worst. My heartbeat thunders.
"Over here!"
I follow her voice and find her standing in the center of the room, surrounded by a ridiculous amount of shopping bags.
The glint in her eyes is wicked.
I take one look at the mess she’s made and groan. "Oh my god."
She grins. "Nah," she says, shaking her head. "He’s not gonna save you tonight."
"Woman," I growl. "Please."
"It’s been days," she purrs, stepping closer. "I’m fine now. Really. I want you."
My jaw tightens. "I don’t want to hurt you."
She tilts her head. "What if I want you to hurt me?"