Total pages in book: 97
Estimated words: 91149 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 456(@200wpm)___ 365(@250wpm)___ 304(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 91149 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 456(@200wpm)___ 365(@250wpm)___ 304(@300wpm)
I look at Nakya, collapsed on the bed, curling into herself like a child. Mischa is right. I have broken her with my actions.
“I’m sorry,” I whisper.
I want to go to her. I want to comfort her. But Mischa stops me.
“It needs to be done,” he says. “You have no choice. It’s her body or her life.”
His words settle over me, and I can’t deny the truth. There is no other option. Either I take the girl and provide proof, or Viktor will demand her actual flesh. She will hate me for ruining her. She will never see that I’m trying to save her too.
“Misch—”
“We can speak later,” he says.
He leaves the room, and I am left alone with my little dancer. She is still sobbing when I collect her in my arms. I shelter her with my body, desperate to convey the depth of my despair in seeing her this way.
“Forgive me, Nakya,” I whisper into her hair. “Forgive me.”
“You were going to let him … touch me,” she utters between broken sobs.
I reach for her face and force her gaze to mine, so there can be no further misunderstandings between us.
“I will be the only one to touch you, zvezda. The only one to take you. And once I do, I’m afraid you will have no say in the matter. You will be mine.”
Alexei is waiting in my office as he promised, tapping out a message on his phone. Undoubtedly, it would be to his wife. While I have only ever known my brother to be a reserved man, he cannot hide his devotion to the pretty blonde who has somehow managed to thaw his frozen heart.
I reach for the bottle of cognac I keep near my desk, extending it to him in offer as I sit down. He declines the hospitality with a shake of his head.
“Thank you,” I say.
“I didn’t do it for you.”
“I know,” I answer. “But still, thank you.”
If he hadn’t come, there is no telling how this evening might have ended. I open the cognac and indulge myself with two long pulls.
“It’s messier than I thought it would be.”
Alexei scrutinizes me with unforgiving eyes. I think it’s easy for him to believe I am cut from the same cloth as Sergei. As far as I can tell, he’s only ever painted me in that light.
“I know you think I’m like him,” I say. “But I have doubts. Perhaps I don’t know him as you do. Perhaps he has been a different father to me than he ever was to you. It’s why I set out on this journey to begin with. To discover his true nature. To discover the truth.”
“Perhaps he has been a different father to me?” Alexei scoffs. “He was never a father to me at all.”
The irony is that he doesn’t see how alike we are. He has always longed for Sergei’s approval, and I have always longed for his freedom from Sergei’s overbearing presence. We are both envious of what the other man has, but too proud to admit it.
“I can’t take responsibility for what he did to you, Lyoshenka.”
“I didn’t ask you to,” he answers.
“But you hold it against me. You let it come between us. What happened between you and Sergei is not right, but it should not poison our relationship as well.”
“You did that all on your own.”
I rub the back of my neck and listen for the voices downstairs. I will need to get back soon. Viktor will not wait long, despite his cheerful mood tonight.
“What do you plan to do with her?” Alexei asks.
The image of Nakya’s tear-smudged face haunts me still. There will be little choice in the matter, and it weighs heavy on me already. “I will return her to her father.”
“That was not your intention when you began. In what shape do you plan to return her to her father?”
He wants confirmation that he’s right about me. That I’m a monster like Sergei. My honesty will not sway him, but I offer it to him anyway.
“My intentions were different when I began. In that regard, you are correct. But time and circumstances have changed my position. Whatever happened in the past, her father will be the one to pay.”
Alexei looks doubtful. “So even if you learn that Manuel was the one to cause your mother’s most brutal and violent death, you have no plans to harm her?”
I resist the urge to punch him in the face again because technically, I owe him. “Are you telling me that Manuel was responsible for my mother’s death?”
“No,” he answers. “I want your word that you won’t hurt her.”
“I already said I wouldn’t,” I snarl.
“But you intended to when you took her?”
“What is the point of this?” I demand. “What would you like from me, Lyoshenka? Must I get down on my knees and grovel before you?”