Total pages in book: 105
Estimated words: 103656 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 518(@200wpm)___ 415(@250wpm)___ 346(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 103656 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 518(@200wpm)___ 415(@250wpm)___ 346(@300wpm)
I cast a glance behind me, and her smile drops as fast as it appeared. Instantly, she returns to her stoic expression that’s a marvelous imitation of Viktor’s grumpy existence.
Everyone has discarded their army uniform, but she’s the only one who looks small and thin in her black slacks and white button-down.
Or maybe I’m the only one who sees it, considering I know exactly what’s hidden by the bandages.
To say I’m taken aback by her decision to come with us would be an understatement. It always felt as if she had roots buried deep in the Russian soil, and in the military specifically.
She nearly lost it when I told her to discharge in the beginning, which means she had a motive to be there.
I never thought she’d easily abandon that motive and Russia to follow me here.
But then again, maybe she did it because of Maksim and Yuri. Considering that she was always a lone wolf, she’s annoyingly close to those two and might think of them as companions for a lifetime.
Whatever her reason, I don’t give a fuck. She made the mistake of offering her existence to me and I’ll have so much fun molding her into whatever the fuck I wish her to be.
Usually, this isn’t a game I like to play, but then again, no one toys with my steel-like control the way innocent-looking Sasha does.
Viktor clears his throat from my right, and it’s then I realize that she’s shifting in place under my scrutiny. It’s not too noticeable, but it’s there.
I push my glasses up my nose with my middle and ring fingers. “Don’t leave my side. Got it?”
She swallows twice before answering, “Yes, sir.”
My lips twitch as I face the entrance again. I like how she calls me sir; it’s different from when everyone else does it.
“Kirochka!”
I’m attacked out of nowhere by a warm hug from a small woman with dark skin.
I pat her back as she hangs on to me with all her might and only pulls back to inspect me left and right as if I’m livestock.
One might think Anna is my mother for all the care and affection she shows me. Truth is, she’s the only mother figure I’ve had, and I’ve only known her since I was a teenager.
In the years since I last saw her, she’s become thinner and bonier. A few more lines surround her eyes and appear on her forehead, and some white hairs start to invade her hair.
She’s dressed in an elegant brown skirt and a pressed white shirt.
“You’ve gotten bigger and even have more muscles. Oh my.” She pats my arm. “Have you been eating right? Did you make sure of it, Viktor?”
“Yes, ma’am.” Even Viktor’s tone of voice changes to that of complete respect in front of Anna.
After all, she’s the only mother figure he knows, too.
She faces him. “And have you been eating well? You look skinnier to me.”
“I’m just fine.”
“Don’t fine me, young man.” She swats him on the arm and then hugs him. He just remains stoically in place. He’s never really known how to accept the flood of affection Anna offers.
“Welcome home, boys. I missed you.”
She then pulls back and casts a narrowed glance at Sasha, who has been silently watching the exchange. “And who is this boy who looks malnourished?”
“My name is Aleksander. Everyone calls me Sasha.”
Anna stares at me. “You brought someone new?”
“He wanted to come.”
“You can’t just bring him over because he wanted to come.” She points a finger in Sasha’s direction without looking at her. “He looks suspicious.”
“I’m actually over here,” Sasha says in a calm tone, but her ears are turning red. Also, she actually speaks with no Russian accent. It’s a bit stiff, but it sounds natural.
That’s hard to accomplish, even for an American-born Russian. The accent is usually there no matter what. Viktor, Maksim, and Yuri have it.
She really did have those private tutors in her previous life.
“Hush, boy.” Anna still doesn’t look at her. “Why are you doing this, Kirochka? It’s not like you.”
She’s right. It’s not.
When Sasha expressed her desire to come along, the most logical solution would’ve been to refuse.
One problem, though. I couldn’t.
Especially when she agreed to place her life in the palm of my hand to do with as I please.
Is it sadism? Probably. But even I can’t recognize what the end goal behind it is.
I can sense the contempt rising in Sasha, but the moment she steps forward, probably to give Anna a piece of her mind, I ask, “Is my father inside?”
A dark shadow falls over Anna’s face, and she seems to forget about Sasha and her suspicions. “Why, yes. The lady of the house and Konstantin didn’t want to inform you of this, probably not wanting you to come back, but Mr. Roman is…not doing very well. He has been severely ill for a while now, and it only got worse after he went to Russia last week.”