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 sigh and lean back in my seat as he joins me. Suspicion confirmed.
I guess I would feel a bit safer around a man like him if he didn’t look at me like I was the enemy.
CHAPTER THREE
Nikko
I knew what I had to do, and I was prepared.
I watched every single goddamn thing Vera Ivanova did over the past few days. I watched her online history and tracked her phone. Listened in on her conversations. Perused her bank account to see where she spent her money. I even know her astrological sign and the way she takes her coffee.
But no amount of sleuthing, spying, or stalking prepared me for meeting her in person.
I knew she was beautiful. She took my breath away the first time I saw her picture. In person…I can hardly look away.
I have to.
Her clothes are suitable for a long flight—black yoga pants that hug every perfect curve and a pale green long-sleeved tee that makes her eyes pop. So unassuming. So completely mesmerizing.
But it’s obvious the second I’m in her presence that there’s more to Vera than meets the eye. Despite her slender, petite frame, there’s a quiet strength in her posture and movements. A decided elegance in the way she holds herself and the way she speaks. She’s grace personified.
From what I’ve read about her, this woman’s fucking brilliant, too, having been accepted into one of the most prestigious grad programs in Europe. The combination of mischief and challenge, grace and intelligence, would outdo a man with lesser self-control than I have. But I’ve learned how to govern my emotions.
I have to remain aloof. Detached. I shield myself in public and always have, and for that, I’m grateful because I’ve never needed it more.
Vera gives me a curious look. “Have you ever flown before?” I can’t quite decipher the look she’s giving me, but to keep up the charade, I only shrug.
She and the driver share a look. Good, my plan worked. I managed to communicate to him that I didn’t speak English, and in the short time it took me to load her bags in the car, he must’ve told her.
I watch as she makes a little finger motion like an airplane flying and give her another shrug as if I still have no idea what she’s saying, because her attempts at communicating are sort of cute. I flick my fingers in the air, and she says more clearly and louder this time, “Plane. You?”
I shrug and nod. Yes, I’ve flown before, many times.
I point my finger at her and make a flying motion.
She sits up straighter and shakes her head. “Uh, no. I’ve never been on a plane.”
Shit. Seriously? Her first flight from New York to Moscow will be about ten hours long.
Great. Will she be afraid? Does she know anything about airport protocol? I noticed when she got in the car that her eyes were a bit misty and red-rimmed. Is she afraid of flying, or is there another reason she looks like she was crying?
Doesn’t matter, though. My goal is to infiltrate her family’s security and get to her father. Vera is just a means to an end.
“I brought some books to read,” she says quietly, drumming her fingers on her knees. It’s almost like she’s talking to herself rather than me, which makes sense since she thinks I don’t speak her language. She chooses her words thoughtfully, but I can tell she’s more anxious than she’s letting on.
Body language conveys more than people know. I note the way she doesn’t look at me when she talks. The way her gaze is fixed out the window and her foot taps.
The slight fluttering of her fingertips at her collarbone signifies more than nerves, though.
Has she ever been in close proximity to a man like me before? How sheltered has she been?
She continues, her voice a bit wobbly. “I have some puzzle books. My phone, of course, but my eyes get tired looking at screens after studying, and I’m so over looking at my phone. I hope there’s WiFi. Maybe I’ll nap, but I don’t like the idea of napping in public because I’ll let my guard down, and I—” She gives me a sidelong glance. “Huh. I suppose no one will give me a difficult time if I’m sitting anywhere near you. Maybe I will nap.”
I’m glad she doesn’t think I speak English because I would assure her she’d be absolutely fine to sleep next to me. I’d promise her utter safety and protection, but I can’t risk getting too close to her.
“My mother was so overprotective,” she explains. “I’m kind of glad we don’t speak the same language because that means I can say things maybe I normally wouldn’t.”
The driver looks at her in the mirror.
“Maybe he’s lying.”
I stare straight ahead and pretend I didn’t hear a thing. Asshole should mind his own business. I don’t even have the benefit of being able to give him a dirty look, or I could give myself away.