Total pages in book: 84
Estimated words: 100417 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 502(@200wpm)___ 402(@250wpm)___ 335(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 100417 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 502(@200wpm)___ 402(@250wpm)___ 335(@300wpm)
He gazed around at all the eyes on him. With his expensive threads, he stood out like a Russian billionaire on public transportation.
“Where’s your pass?” the driver barked.
Sevastyan looked at a loss. “I don’t have one. But I’m not getting off this bus.”
“If you pay in cash, you don’t get change.”
Pulling out his full money clip, Sevastyan peeled off a crisp hundred. “I hope this will suffice.” He’d just handed away almost as much as I’d made slaving over a huge mansion.
The driver said, “Enjoy the ride.”
I hastened toward the back, wishing there were more people. I sat by a window, putting my pack next to me.
He moved it to his lap and sat. “I need to speak with you—in private.”
I yanked my bag from him. “And I need you to not be here. We both crapped out.” Rain began to patter the roof, then pour.
“You’re not even interested in what I’m offering?”
“Go. To. Hell.”
“Please talk to me, Katya.” Determined to ignore him, I stared out the window. “So stubborn. You’ll find that I am too.”
For the rest of the way, I refused to speak to him. When the bus slowed, my face fell. At the stop for my next bus, the one that took me close to campus, everyone was crowded under the shelter. I’d have to wait in the rain.
I rose and trudged through the doors to the street.
He followed me into the downpour. “You’re waiting for another one of these?” he asked, aghast.
The temperature had dropped. I began to shake from the wet cold. “F-feel f-free to leave.”
When the bus pulled up, he said, “Enough of this.” He waved for his Bentley, because apparently Vasili had been following us—
Sevastyan snagged my upper arm, forcing me toward the car.
“Nooo, I need to get on that bus!” Though I kicked at his leg, he was dogged, and in seconds, I found myself in the backseat.
The divider was down, so he told Vasili, “Follow the bus.” To me, he said, “See how much easier this is?” He turned on the heater.
“You can’t do this to me!” At least we were heading in the right direction. Once we closed in on the campus, I’d dart out of the car. “Y-you kidnapped me off the street?”
“You forget I’m in the mafiya. Taking people off the street is a matter of course.” Was that a joke? Or a threat?
I hit my limit. I was sick of men threatening me, manhandling me, ignoring my wishes, stealing my life’s savings—and my underwear—and planning to kill me. “Stop this car.”
“I’ll take you wherever you want to go. Tell me the address.”
I screamed, “Stop this motherfucking car!” Undaunted, he said, “Where are you so desperate to get to?”
“What the hell is this, Sevastyan? You were cruel and disgusting to me, not twenty-four hours ago! So why are you stalking me now?”
“I made a mistake yesterday.” Did he think he could just erase it, and we’d go back to the way we were? “Katya, I was in your apartment.”
“What?” I couldn’t be more horrified. I pictured the pots on the floor and the pitiful cot. “How?”
“We canvassed out from where the cab dropped you, paying people for information. It led us to Shadwell. For a price, he let us in.” I bet he did.
Wait, I’d walked blocks from the Seltane to catch that cab—specifically for this reason! “How could you know which taxi drove me?”
“By tracking your phone all over town. You were smart to ditch it, but ultimately it led us to the cab you’d taken.”
Burn. Foiled by my own attempt at cleverness. “You had no right to be there.”
“No wonder you knew about those shithole apartments. You’re living in one yourself. You would prefer to be there? Instead of with me?”
“Yes! Because I paid for it. Because I didn’t have to beg some sick Russian hobbyist to give me my ‘donation.’ ”
He seemed to stifle a wince at that. “You had money. Thousands. Why not find a better place? An extended-stay hotel? Anywhere but there?”
“You’re really going to do this? Then listen up, Sevastyan. I couldn’t stay in a hotel because Shadwell—the guy you paid for entry to my apartment—stole all my money out of my hiding place. Seven grand. Gone. My mother’s rosary too. Even your money clip. Oh, and my thongs! He’s been shaking me down for months, shaking down everybody—making a fortune, and using the women as his personal harem. And now he was coming and going in my place as he pleased?” I leaned in, drawing my lips back from my teeth. “Even so, I stayed the night in my locked bathroom—rather than ask you for help .”
That muscle in Sevastyan’s jaw ticked overtime. “Did he . . . you . . . ?”
“I wasn’t weak enough—yet. I paid him to leave me alone.” But my rosary and ID were gone for good.
The full import of what I’d lost was starting to hit. I was about to lose my ever-loving shit.
“You’ll have your rosary and your money back.” He said something in Russian to Vasili, but I heard “Shadwell.” Oh, the plans going on behind Sevastyan’s eyes.
I could almost feel sorry for Shadwell, that preying, stealing serial rapist—
No. Actually I didn’t feel sorry for him at all. Maybe I was an ideal match for a mobster. My supe was about to get a horse’s head in his bed. Okay, muy bien.
To me, Sevastyan snapped, “You could’ve been raped last night! Or killed! You never thought about calling me?”
I gave him a palms-up shrug. “Oh, so sad, no phone. I didn’t toss it solely because I was suspicious of you tracking me. Uncle Anthony wouldn’t stop burning up my number. You see, he stole even more of my money and was trying to coerce me into a date with some French businessman, so I could—as you so eloquently put it—suck and fuck.”
Sevastyan grated more Russian to Vasili. Anthony gets a horse head too!
“You’re never going back to that apartment, Katya. I’ll burn it to the goddamned ground first.”