Total pages in book: 163
Estimated words: 157491 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 787(@200wpm)___ 630(@250wpm)___ 525(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 157491 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 787(@200wpm)___ 630(@250wpm)___ 525(@300wpm)
I shake my head and pick up the previous conversational thread. “Kill him, don’t kill him,” I reply in Russian, using my hands as though weighing his response.
“For the benefit of the audience only,” Sergei answers with a scowl.
“You’re no fun,” I answer before switching back to English. “What kind of hammer?”
“A better one,” he replies with a grunt. “And something to tie his legs.”
“Tie?” My brows lift as though we were talking about the weather. Thankfully, Sergei seems to finally get the gist of things.
“It is almost impossible to break leg with a mallet. Unless he has twigs for bones.”
Giles’s attention swings from Sergei to me, offering another burst of muffled protests.
“Improbable, not impossible,” I argue. “I could try. If it doesn’t work, we can do it your way.”
“Better you bring some breezeblocks.” Sergei sniffs. “Immobilize knee and ankle to stop joints from giving way. It takes two, maybe two-twenty pounds of force to smash shinbone.”
“Tibia,” I add. “That’s the proper term.”
“What? You a doctor now?”
I tut and shake my head. “I want to cause him pain, not take it away.”
“Stop playing,” Sergei mutters in Russian. “Either do it or let him go.”
“Remind me, who is in charge now?” I answer in the same.
“A heavy hammer.” Brows beetled, Sergei folds his arms across his chest. “One with small surface area.”
“You should listen to this,” I say, turning my attention back to Giles. “The man is giving a masterclass.” Over the tape, Giles’s wide eyes blink.
“You could use hatchet—”
“We’re not trying to chop off his leg,” I retort with a laugh.
“Yet,” Sergei answers with a shrug. “I think he will make too much noise. You don’t want police knocking on front door.”
“I’m not going to shut him up by chopping off his leg, Sergei.”
“Head, then.”
“It’s an avenue.” I shrug, then turn back to my guest. I stretch my tight shoulders, tilting my head to one side, then the other, almost as though limbering up for a morning run. Despite my outward calm, a roiling, boiling rage swims through my veins, the kind that won’t be satiated by anything other than violence. He put his hands on what is mine—what would be mine if I could only allow it. He planned to hurt her, and for that, I feel justified in this. I could kill him. I could do it with a smile on my face.
Dropping down to my haunches, I stare at those fearful, bloodshot eyes. Outside, a car rumbles past, a child squeals in delight, and a dog barks. His shoulders begin to heave with his deep sobs because, here, in this room, the outside might as well be in another galaxy. At least, for him.
“But this is all talk, no?” Sergei asserts, folding his arms across his chest. “Maybe it is the duke I should be giving masterclass to.”
“I said Alexander planned on it.” I stand again and swing the mallet over my head. Behind the tape, Giles screams. “Not that I’d reserve the privilege for him.”
9
Isla
I’d begun to wonder if Sandy had purposely kept me from meeting Van because my brother knew of his friend’s bedroom proclivities. Assuming he is a little kinky, which I think he is, given what I’d seen in his bedroom. Our brief encounter haunted my dreams in the following weeks, pulling me from sleep, my body twisted in the sheets, throbbing and sweaty, every inch of my skin yearning for his touch. But it had to be coincidence that we’d never met before because I’d realized my brother mentioned his name often enough. Maybe I just hadn’t been paying attention. By coincidence or fate, over the coming months, we find ourselves in the same space more than once.
“So how long have you two been together?” Niko, sorry, Van as I’m supposed to know him, corners my date and I at a dinner Sandy is holding. There’d been a general ripple of surprise as he’d strolled into the room, quickly followed by avaricious looks and fluttering eyelashes from the female contingent. Backslapping and exclamations of delight from the other group. Niko Vanyin seems to be a popular boy.
“A few weeks.” Alistair clears his throat. “Just a few weeks.”
“Not that it’s any of your business,” I add with a saccharine sweet smile because stuff his avuncular tone. I saw the way his eyes devoured me from across the room. I remember the way he felt over me.
You’re such a sweet, sweet girl.
Maybe his kink is depriving himself because I know he’s attracted to me. I felt the echo of that attraction at his bedroom door when he’d almost kissed me. “After all, you’re not my brother.” I point around my glass to the fireplace where Sandy is chatting with a girl dressed in the wrong kind of pink for her complexion. “He’s over there if you want to bother him.” You chose him, in other words, which stings.