Total pages in book: 83
Estimated words: 79097 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 395(@200wpm)___ 316(@250wpm)___ 264(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 79097 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 395(@200wpm)___ 316(@250wpm)___ 264(@300wpm)
I grab some leftovers, toss them onto a plate, and throw it in the microwave. It beeps a moment later, and I eat without tasting it.
I want this over with. And I want Lev and me on the same page again, goddammit.
Of course, at the back of my mind, a little voice says, Were we ever?
It felt like it on the island. It felt like it when we were cooking together, sharing our hopes and dreams.
Then why the distance now?
I toss the dish into the sink.
"You’re just gonna throw it in the sink? You're not gonna put it in the dishwasher?”
I spin on my heel, angrier that he came into the room without me knowing than I am about his admonishing me for a stupid dirty dish. "Yeah, I do my fair share of dishes around here. It's one fucking dish. When did you get here?"
"Just now. What did you eat for dinner?"
I shrug. "I have no idea."
He looks puzzled. My heart twists at the adorable furrow between his brows and his downturned lips. The shadow of stubble on his chin and the rumble of his voice.
He scratches his belly, and it’s unnervingly boyish.
Damn it all to hell. I am mad for this infuriating man.
“Seriously, how do you not know what you ate?”
"Because I like everything in that fridge. I trained for hours, and I was starving. I was looking for food in my belly, not a delicacy.” I huff and toss my hair. “Sue me.”
We haven’t had sex in four days and I’m feeling a little ornery.
“Jesus, woman. You’re grumpy as fuck. Do I need to fuck this out of you? It’s like you’re hormonal and shit.”
He’s lucky all I have is a glass of water in my hand and not a gun. I toss the water straight into his handsome, arrogant face.
His jaw drops, water coursing down his cheeks in rivulets. I wish it felt more vindictive, but I only feel like a child who didn’t get her way.
"What the fuck?”
He stalks over to me, but I stand my ground. "Only a complete dick blames a woman's attitude on her period.”
His eyes narrow on me. “I didn’t say period. I said hormones.”
“Same thing!”
He throws his hands up in the air. “When the fuck did I give you the impression I was a good guy?"
When did he tell me? He didn't need to.
When he carried me back after a jellyfish stung me. When he made me dinner. When he listened with sympathy when I told him about the bullshit my family put me through. When he defended me to his brothers. Me, Isabella Morales—Romanova.
No one's ever defended me in my entire life.
"You're right, Isabella. Honeymoon over.”
The shift hurts. The intimate moments we shared, the tentative plans for our future together. It’s vanished overnight. I want to reach out to him. I want to cling to the closeness we had before.
He stops short a few feet from me, glares at me and grabs a dishtowel, running it over his face. I deflate a little. I wanted more of a fight from him.
“You piss me off so much. Jesus, woman.” He turns away. I can see the restraint it takes for him not to lash out. His muscles strain. “I’ve got a lot on my mind, and you’re acting evasive as shit. I can’t help wondering what the hell you’re hiding. Jesus, Isabella. Don’t fucking push me.”
“I didn’t share one conversation with you, and you decide to question every interaction we’ve had? Every word I’ve spoken? You think I’m manipulating you? What are you playing at?”
His jaw clenches, and he doesn’t respond. “You think I’m playing you?”
My throat catches. I’m on the brink of losing everything. Fucking everything. What are we even fighting about?
“I need to know you’re still loyal to us and not the LSD,” he snaps.
“What else can I do to prove it to you? Hmm? What else do you want? Blood?”
I want to shake him until his teeth rattle. I want to scream until I’m hoarse. I feel helpless and angry, caught between one family that hates me and another that doesn’t trust me.
“You were on a burner phone. That’s not your regular phone.”
I throw my hands up in the air, my temper boiling over. I half wish someone would douse me with water. “Of course I was. If anyone knew I was talking to Renata, they could trace me. But you don’t care, Lev. You’re too blinded by your trust issues to hear reason.” My voice catches. It infuriates me. Tears blur my vision, which makes me even angrier. “I’ve been trying to find a way to protect us both. I’ve done nothing wrong. But you won’t hear me.”
It feels like the clouds have shifted, and darkness is creeping in, heralding a storm. Proving my loyalty to him will be a monumental task, but I’m determined to try. I’m all in with the Romanovs. I am all in with the plans he and I made to rule together.