Total pages in book: 97
Estimated words: 94829 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 474(@200wpm)___ 379(@250wpm)___ 316(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 94829 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 474(@200wpm)___ 379(@250wpm)___ 316(@300wpm)
“I know that.” I think about the deal Tigran offered, and suddenly it doesn’t seem so crazy. Would he really buy me a house? One with big walls and a security system? I could come back here and see my brother whenever I wanted.
Maybe even my dad too. One day, anyway.
“Good luck.” Evan hugs me tightly. “Text me if that bastard does anything,” he whispers before letting go.
I watch him leave with a terrible sinking feeling in my chest.
“Finish packing, Dashenka,” Dad says, glancing down at his feet. “It really had to be this way.”
I turn my back on him. “I know, Papa.” I say it nice and sweetly. Like the good, obedient Dashenka I’m supposed to be.
While inwardly seething that my life is over, and it’s his fault.
Chapter 6
Dasha
“We’re flying to Baltimore?” I climb onto the private jet, frowning around. “What about your car?”
“Damian will take that back.” Tigran collapses into a luxurious leather seat and sighs. “This is faster.”
I frown at him and squint out the window. I’m nervous and feeling a little sick. “I haven’t been on a plane in a really long time.”
“Lucky you.”
I hesitate and then choose the seat as far from him as I can get. I curl up in the big chair, pulling my knees to my chest, and he sighs before coming back to me. He slumps down in the seat beside mine. Not too close, but still, too close.
“Do you have to sit there?” I ask, frustrated by the way I react when he’s near. Like my body has a mind of its own.
He looks at me for a long moment as the crew gets the plane prepared to take off. I squirm a little under that gaze, hating the way my eyes keep drifting to his lips.
“When was the last time you ate something?”
That’s not what I expected him to say. “Uh, this morning, I think.”
“Dasha, pisik, you need to take better care of yourself.”
“I’ve had other things on my mind. You know, like leaving the only home I’ve ever known to move in with a stranger?”
He chuckles, low and intense, and flags down the flight attendant. She’s a pretty woman with high cheekbones and huge tits. He barely glances at her, which is a surprise.
She’s easily a ten, while I’m a six-and-a-half, and the half is being generous.
“My wife needs something to eat. What’s available?”
“Well, sir, there’s no meal—”
“I asked you what’s available, not what you don’t have.”
She laughs nervously. “Of course, sir. I believe there’s a gourmet cheese and cracker plate?”
“That’ll do fine.” She scurries away, and Tigran leans toward me. “I want you to eat everything she brings.”
“What if I don’t want to?”
“I’m not asking permission. You’re my wife now, which means you’ll take care of yourself. No more forgetting to eat.”
“Why do you even care?”
He grunts as he looks away. His face screws up like he doesn’t know how to answer that question before scowling back at me. “Because it’ll help you get through this without fainting again, and I don’t feel like peeling your unconscious body off the floor for a second time.”
My hands grip my knees tighter. “Right, that makes more sense. It’s not altruistic, right? Just making sure I don’t become a burden.”
“Exactly.” He smirks and leans his head back. “Now you get it.”
The flight lasts barely half an hour. He sleeps the whole time, and I reluctantly eat. I hate to admit it, but he was right—it makes the stressful experience slightly better.
As soon as we’re up, it’s like we’re coming back down for a landing. I’m busy eating, and I don’t even realize I should be freaking out.
At least, until the runway slips into view and we’re hurtling toward it.
I feel myself tensing like it’s the last thing I’ll ever see. How did I end up here? With a man I don’t know? A bossy, selfish asshole who only cares about making sure I do what’s expected of me?
Like have his babies.
“Crap,” I whisper to myself, terrified to my core. “Oh, crap, oh, crap. Oh—”
Tigran reaches out and takes my hand.
I stare at it. Callused, thick, strong. I hold tightly, not really caring that it’s him, as I squeeze my eyes shut. I’m desperate for comfort right now, and he gives it to me. The fear’s still there, but it dims when he’s touching me, and before I realize what’s happening, the plane touches down.
I yelp, but he holds my hand tighter as the plane brakes and slows down.
“You’re okay,” he says gently. “We’re down.”
“Right. I’m fine. I did it.”
“And you even finished all your crackers. I’m proud of you.”
I glare at him. “Are you always like this?”
“Not always. Just with you.” His eyebrows raise, and he looks down. “You can let go of my hand if you want.”
I had forgotten about that. I quickly shove his palm from my lap and turn my back on him, arms wrapping around my body. “I’m fine, okay? Would you stop looking at me?”