Total pages in book: 109
Estimated words: 100796 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 504(@200wpm)___ 403(@250wpm)___ 336(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 100796 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 504(@200wpm)___ 403(@250wpm)___ 336(@300wpm)
“I don’t know.” It was the most honest answer I had. “My father deserves to die, and maybe I do, too, but not Konstantine. My father sent me here to plant listening devices, knowing you’d kill me if I got caught. His own fucking daughter. I’m nothing to him. An expendable pawn, just like those men at the warehouse.” I spoke even and measured for emphasis. “Just like Ivan.”
At the mention of the man who’d murdered Addison’s family, the barrel of the gun came up, and I died a little. He pointed the gun at me like I was a stranger. That wasn’t fair. Perhaps he thought everything I’d said was a lie, and now I was a stranger.
“Please, wait a minute,” I pleaded. “Konstantine saved my life. He was the one who pulled Ilia Volkov off me.”
The name pinged recognition, and it wasn’t surprising. Ilia was sure to have been on the Serbians’ watch list. “Jesus Christ! You killed Volkov? They said it was an accident.”
“No, it was me, and I’d do it again. But Konstantine . . . He convinced our father that what I’d done was justified. I’m still alive because of him, so, please.” Under the steady aim of the gun, I climbed onto my knees. “Please. You can’t kill him.” I shook so hard, it was a miracle I didn’t come apart. “You can kill me instead,” I whispered, “as long as you take my father out first.”
“I don’t give a fuck about what you want.”
Like the first night I’d come here, it was too hard to look at him, and I tore my gaze away. I blinked back the burning sensation in my eyes while I stared at the sheets beneath me. The only sound was my labored breathing and the roaring pulse in my ears.
“What do you want?” I asked.
“Some goddamn answers,” he barked. “The night at the warehouse . . . Tell me how you knew I’d pick you.”
I swallowed so hard it was audible. I was about to sign someone’s death warrant. “If you didn’t, Aleksandar would have.”
A slew of Serbian came out of his mouth, and without understanding the words, it was so sharp and laced with anger, I felt little barbs cutting my flesh. In my peripheral vision, I sensed the movement. Vasilije had taken a step closer, bringing his gun closer to my head.
“He was in on it?”
“My father used Aleksandar’s gambling debt as leverage.”
“Motherfucker!” More Serbian rolled from him. More imaginary barbs sliced into my skin, leaving me exposed and raw. All my planning had led up to this moment, and as I felt Vasilije slipping away, I realized how fucking stupid I’d been. I should have just killed my father when I had the chance. I was going to die anyway, but at least that way I would have had my revenge.
“You weren’t scared last time I held a gun on you,” he snarled.
I closed my eyes. “Because you might actually use it tonight.”
“You’re goddamn right. Look at me.”
I flinched at the cold metal when he pressed it against my temple, and forced myself to drag my gaze up his body. When our eyes met, I couldn’t hold back the cry of anguish. I wasn’t so much sad for myself as I was for the loss of what we had. It was so fucked up.
His tone mocked me. “Why are you crying when you told me you don’t have feelings? Or was it just another lie?”
“Almost everything was real. I am the daughter of an opera singer from Kazan. I killed a man who put his hands on me when I didn’t want him to, and after it, I wrote the dark song I’ve only played for you.”
The barrel traced a line down the side of my face, skimming along my neck. My skin felt warm and irritated in its wake.
My voice threatened to fail, but I kept going. “You’ve done what I want to. My father’s evil. When I told him what Ilia was doing to me, he didn’t believe me. Or maybe he didn’t care to. Either way, his indifference was betrayal. It was worse than Ilia’s touch. Sergey Petrov could die a hundred times and I’m still not sure it’d be enough.”
Vasilije kept his gaze on mine as the gun’s path carved lower. It crossed over my collarbone, moving deliberately to the skin covering my heart.
“You’re the only person who knows what I want,” I said. “Who really knows me.”
The barrel pressed uncomfortably against my heavy chest. It forced the words from me.
“You’re the only guy I’ve been with.” I gulped down a breath. “The only man I’ve let inside my body, and inside my head.”
His eyes flared with perverse lust, and the tip of the gun shifted course. It followed the edge of the lacy bra, kissing my trembling skin and dipping down between my breasts. The air swirled around us, charged with sex and danger. It flowed like a current, bringing on unwanted waves of tingling across my flesh, and causing me to break out in goosebumps.