Total pages in book: 83
Estimated words: 79312 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 397(@200wpm)___ 317(@250wpm)___ 264(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 79312 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 397(@200wpm)___ 317(@250wpm)___ 264(@300wpm)
She huffs a little but finally responds.
“Hell no,” she says. “He's one of the least patient people I've ever met.”
“Exactly. When he sees that we're not making a move, he's going to snap. He thrives on revenge. Let's get all our ducks in a row first. We'll put off the wedding and set a new date later.” My eyes lock onto Lydia. “In the meantime, I'll teach you self-defense.”
Aria’s eyes light up. “Oooh. I get it. You'll use Lydia as bait.”
Heat rises in my chest, and I clench my fist. I hate that idea, but I like Aria, so I have to be careful with how I respond. I grit my teeth but keep my voice calm.
“No,” I snap, my tone so harsh it startles Ivy, who jumps on my lap. “She will not be bait. The situation will be. I'll be waiting.”
Aleksandr looks at Ivy. “We need to discuss the details, but with only adults present.”
“Does that include me?” Lydia mutters under her breath.
“Depends on the day,” I mutter back.
“I think this is a sound plan,” Mikhail says. “We should follow Viktor’s lead.”
I nod. Lydia frowns but doesn’t reply.
I watch as she plays with her roll but doesn’t eat it. We pass the food around, and she takes the smallest bit of chicken and a bunch of lettuce, her gaze darting nervously around the room. I’ve watched how she gets self-conscious when she’s going to eat in front of a crowd of people. I wonder if she holds any of those memories of her school days and the relentless teasing of her classmates.
Ivy reaches for her glass and spills it on herself. Harper helps us clean up. “Alright, I’m sorry to tear you away from Uncle Viktor, but we need to clean you up.” She stands up and takes her away from the table.
I move closer to Lydia.
“Why aren’t you eating?” I ask in her ear.
“I lost my appetite,” she whispers back, but I know it's probably a lie. She hasn't eaten much since she arrived, likely because she's uncomfortable around everyone here.
“Stop it. You're perfect, Lydia. Eat.”
She rolls her eyes at me, but I can see a smile tugging at her lips. I reach for the food and put more on her plate.
I eat while I talk with my brothers, and we form a plan. I'll teach Lydia self-defense, and we’ll ensure the wedding is postponed and held in the safest place possible, surrounded by our men. “And the good thing about this,” Harper says thoughtfully, joining us again, “is that it will give us time to secure everything.”
“Alright.” Lydia seems reluctant to agree. “How long?”
“Another month. Make him wait. That's plenty of time for me to teach you, and by then, Vera will be at the end of her program and able to come home.”
She still isn’t eating.
“Excuse me,” Lydia says. “Where is the restroom?” Something is troubling her.
I stand. “I'll show you.”
“You can just tell me where it is,” she says, her tone sharp.
“I'll go with you,” I insist, my hand on her elbow. I guide her into the hallway, and as soon as the dining room door closes behind us, I push her up against the wall, leaning on my forearm to cage her in.
“Viktor,” she hisses, her cheeks flushed. “This isn’t the time or place.”
“It is always the time,” I counter. “And I can always find a place. Now. Tell me what the hell is going on.” I take her chin in my hand, tilting her face up to mine. “You're holding something back. What is it?”
She tries to look away, but I grab her chin and bring her gaze back to mine. I bend down and touch my lips to hers. She tastes like honey and sunshine, evoking memories of warm summer days. She tries to push me away, but I don't let her. I wrap my hand around the back of her neck and deepen the kiss. Our tongues meet, and she moans into me, softening.
When we finally break the kiss, we're both panting.
“Tell me now, Lydia,” I warn her, “or I'll drag you into the office and fuck it out of you.”
“That’s supposed to stop me? Maybe I want you to. Maybe I want you to take control and show me that you actually want me instead of talking about it, skirting the issue, treating me like I'm made of glass, and then announcing to everyone that you don't want to marry me.”
“What the fuck are you talking about?” I temper my anger so I don’t snap. I will not let it consume me. I will always, always be careful around my Lydia.
She juts her chin out defiantly. “You say you want me, and then at the first opportunity, you put off our wedding. Why don't you fucking show me you want me?”