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)
I smile in the dim light of dusk when my eyes fly open.
“Oh God. That window’s open. Oh my God. I thought it was closed.”
He leaps out of bed, and for one brief minute, Markov looks as terrified as I am. It scares me. I don’t know if I’ve ever seen him scared before.
“Shit. How could I have been so careless? I closed the other shades and didn’t realize this one was still open. Fuck.”
Even though there’s a slim sliver of light at the bottom of the shade, it’s too risky. Anyone could’ve seen us, and if anyone in my family ever caught wind of what we were doing. . . I can’t even imagine what would happen. The punishment for me would be severe, but for Markov. . .
My belly churns with anxiety. What are we going to do?
“Stay here. I’m going to investigate.” I sit up and clasp the blanket to me as he turns around and pins me in place with his glare. “My job is to protect you, Vera Ivanova. You do not leave this room.”
He turns and is gone.
I stare at the window and see his large form move past the window. My mind reels with the possibility of what could happen. Even if no one in the Ivanov Bratva saw us. . . even if there was no evidence of the two of us together. . . he just dominated me. What if another student or one of the professors caught wind? Would I ever be able to live that down?
But right now, our safety is a bigger concern, especially after everything we’ve been through.
I’m still trembling and boneless from our lovemaking.
Will life with Markov ever be normal? Does he even want a woman like me? I’ve been sheltered my whole life. I don’t know anything about what it’s like to be. . . normal.
What have I gotten myself into?
The door opens, and Markov steps inside, his face impassive and flinty as usual.
“Irina passed by a few moments ago, but she was on the other side of the campus and only waved to me. There’s no way she saw anything.”
I feel my eyes flutter closed as I sink back on the pillow.
“Okay, alright. So we did this thing as an undergrad in one of my emergency preparation classes. We had to envision the worst-case scenario and then imagine ourselves walking through it.” I blow out a breath. “Let’s do that.”
Markov shakes his head and sits on the edge of the bed. “Worst case scenario? The worst-case scenario is someone sees us together and makes me leave your side. The worst-case scenario is your father knows we’re an item and tears us apart.” He shakes his head. “I don’t give a shit about what he’d do to me, but if he takes me away from you. . . if I can’t protect you anymore. . .”
I reach a hand to touch his arm. I can feel the tenseness of his muscles. “Markov. . .”
“You want me to walk myself through it?” he continues. “Yeah, I can do that, Vera. It would be ending anyone that got in my way so I could get back to you. To make sure you were safe and no one hurt you.”
I swallow the lump in my throat. “The worst case for me would be losing you. If you got hurt, Markov. . . if they took you away from me. . . I don’t know what I would do.”
He half-laughs while cringing. “We need a plan, Vera.”
“Can our plan involve running away where no one will ever find us? Change identities and try out witness protection? I’ll leave everything, Markov.”
“Nyet.” He shakes his head, his Russian coming out in full force. “Ty etogo ne sdelayesh. You will not do that. You worked too long and too hard for you to give it all up for me. I won’t allow it, Vera.”
“I don’t care,” I say, feeling like a stubborn child. “Those all mattered to me more before I realized what matters to me most, Markov.”
“Vera—”
“Listen to me,” I say, tears shimmering in my eyes. “I’ll call my father. I’ll explain everything. I’ll tell him how you’ve taken care of me, how good you are to me. He has to understand. Surely, I can make him see reason—”
“Vera.” He grasps both of my hands in his. They’re warm and rough. . . like him. “You don’t really know me. You know the man I am here. You know the role I play here. But I’ve done wicked, terrible things.” He leans forward. “Unforgivable things, Vera. If you knew what I’ve done. If you really knew who I am. . .” his voice trails off in a ragged whisper. “You’d never forgive me.”
I blink, a lone, fat tear rolling down my cheek. “I know you aren’t the classic definition of a good man, Markov. I know that.” I sniff. “I’m a smart girl, remember? And those were your words, not mine. Life is complicated. We can make this work. We can.”