Total pages in book: 79
Estimated words: 75209 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 376(@200wpm)___ 301(@250wpm)___ 251(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 75209 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 376(@200wpm)___ 301(@250wpm)___ 251(@300wpm)
My chest swells with pride. “Thank you. I led the study but couldn’t have done it without the aid of the others I studied with.”
Jake smiles, his eyes warming at me. “Humble, too. You’d better have a flaw somewhere, Ms. Ivanov,” he says with a wink before he joins Irina.
Markov, as usual, walks beside me with a flinty expression on his face.
Seriously, why did I pretend we were married? I inwardly groan.
I need to make sure no one here knows who I really am, or who he is. This is my chance.
I think Markov and I are beginning to have some marital troubles.
CHAPTER FIVE
Nikko
I take in every detail as we enter the campus.
I’ve begun to realize that my initial strategy—remaining the aloof bodyguard and finding my way into her family’s trust—won’t work now because of Vera’s lie. I’ll have to pivot.
Maybe… just maybe it isn’t a curse from the gods to have us share a room. Maybe I don’t have to be stoic and detached. As I watch her with the American pretty boy, her eyes all wide and her cheeks flushed, I have a realization: Vera Ivanova is starving for attention.
Hidden from the world, sheltered, she’s thrown herself into her studies and made something of herself. I hardly know her, and even I’m damn proud.
But she craves more than recognition.
I’ve taken note.
“The accommodations are better than you’d find in a typical college dorm,” Irina explains, “but we’re utilitarian with the space we use and the way we’ve set things up here.” She moves in a little closer to Vera. “I did make a call, and you will have the one room with a private bath. Perhaps Markov can join us for more of the social events we’ll have.”
Vera blanches but quickly covers it up and nods. “Thank you.”
Yes. If there’s anything I’ve learned as an assassin, it’s to stay calm under pressure. Prepare for a change of plans. Be ruthless in the execution of Plan B.
“Here,” Irina says, handing Vera a set of keys and gesturing to a set of buildings nestled into the campus but slightly offset. “Please get some rest and get settled in. You’ll find a map of the campus and an itinerary in your room. We’ll meet at the dining area for dinner in three hours.”
She flashes me a smile, and she’s gone. The American has already found his room.
Vera stares at the door as if it’s a snake coiled in wait, ready to snap. Why the sudden panic? She made her choice.
I remember my plan and place the bags down. She opens the door with shaking hands and groans when she pushes it open.
It’s a typical Russian bedroom you’d find on a college campus. The modest-sized double bed is the focal point of the otherwise utilitarian room and is made up with four pillows and a lightweight, traditionally patterned duvet. A built-in closet gives us minimal room for storage, but it will do, and there’s a small desk with a hard-backed chair. Everything is modern, pragmatic, and compact.
“There isn’t even so much as a couch for me to sleep on,” she groans. “How is this possibly going to work? I can’t tell her I lied now; I’ll lose total credibility, and we just got here.”
I know the feeling.
After bringing in the luggage, I lock the door behind her. I check all locks on the doors and windows. There’s no deadbolt, only one shitty lock that wobbles. A teen with a screwdriver could open the damn thing.
I’ll take care of that.
I nod at the bed and gesture for her to give me her phone.
I tap the app.
You’ll take the bed. I will sleep on the floor.
Her eyes widen as she reads the message. I watch as her lower lip juts out, and she frowns, typing out another message.
No way.
It’s time to put my plan into action.
I type another message on the phone. I saw how she responded to the American. I listened to what he said to her.
You are the one who’s worked hard to get here. I’m only here to protect you. It’s important you sleep well. You will take the bed.
I hand her the phone and walk away. That conversation is over.
I hear her sigh as I head to check out the rest of the room. Fortunately, the locks are the only part of the room that is unsafe. I gesture to the dresser’s four drawers and pull out the bottom one, where I’ll store my few clothes and weapons. I open my backpack and quickly arrange everything I’ve brought, then tap the rest of the drawers and point to her.
Yours.
“Thank you,” she says, her voice a bit softer this time. Maybe she’s touched by my display. Maybe she’s honored I’m taking her job here seriously. In any event, she’s ignorant to the fact that I’m here to bring justice to my family through the death of her father, and we’re going to keep it that way.