Total pages in book: 99
Estimated words: 92957 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 465(@200wpm)___ 372(@250wpm)___ 310(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 92957 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 465(@200wpm)___ 372(@250wpm)___ 310(@300wpm)
When I’m confident Anissa’s resting, the medication keeping her in a light state of sedation for now, but the effort she expended exhausting her, I step into the hallway and meet up with my brothers, who hover nearby. They’re eager to back me up as always, but there’s a hint of fear in their eyes over what happens next. I peer in at her, the door slightly ajar.
No one’s come into this home since our parents’ death. My marriage—however unofficial it is—changes everything.
"How’d she take the news?" Rodion asks me.
I shrug and sigh. "She has a lot of questions, but so far, so good." I shake my head and keep my voice low, even though I know she can’t hear me. “I tried to tell her as much of the truth as I could."
"Now, brother, there's no need to lie," Rodion smirks, obviously delighting in my predicament. "You definitely didn’t tell her as much of the truth as you could. You may have told her as much of the truth as you could get away with." He snorts. “I ought to know. That’s my specialty.”
I grunt. He’s not lying.
“I believe what you meant to say is that creative truth-telling is my only tactic.” Semyon says, smacking Rodion’s shoulder.
I love these assholes, even if I want to throttle them sometimes.
"How much time do you have?" Semyon asks. "Like, what if she wakes up tomorrow and remembers who she is?"
"I don’t know how much time I have. I could have months, weeks, or days." I shove my hands in my pockets. “But it sounds like it’s very rare that one’s memory returns rapidly.”
"So, you must focus on making that woman of yours like you," Rodion says with a lopsided grin that makes him look like a cat with a mouse’s tail trapped under it’s paw.
I give him a withering look. "She doesn’t have to like me," I say with disgust. "I wouldn’t know the first thing about that anyway."
My brothers share a look.
“What?” Frustration mounts in my chest. I scowl. “What the hell are you looking at each other like that for?”
Semyon sighs. "He’s not wrong, brother. It might help, you know."
I think about this for a moment without responding. Help with what?
Rodion leans forward, holding my gaze. "You look genuinely perplexed. Do you mean to tell me that for once in my life, I actually have an opportunity to fill my big brother in on something? Imagine, after all these years, after everything you've taught me, I actually know something you don't?” He shakes his head and curses.
I grunt at him and look back through the open door to where my bride rests. She was pretty wrecked. And she was definitely concerned about what I did to the people who hit her.
That’s none of her concern. It won’t ever be. He was reckless, careless. He could've killed her. The asshole was playing on his phone instead of watching the road. And yes, she shouldn't have run into traffic the way she did, but if he had been paying attention, it would've been easy to swerve.
From here, I can see the gold-framed mirrors Yana put up, the soft silk curtains drawn tight, and the roses Zoya placed beside the bed. My bride rests in a room as finely appointed as a queen’s—but with every lock and guard in place to keep her mine.
What if she wakes up and she's disoriented? What if she wakes up and looks for me? Or worse, what if she wakes up and remembers who she is?
Will she try to run again? When I join her, the door to our bedroom will be locked, as is every other exit to the house, secured with my men. I would think that if she woke up and remembered who she was, she wouldn't make the mistake of running again, especially with her leg in a cast and her other injuries to account for.
Rodion leans in, clearly delighted that he gets to tell me what to do for once.
"You have two choices here, Rafail. The carrot or the stick. And trust me, when it comes to a beautiful woman like her, you want to at least start with the carrot.” His eyes gleam with a hint of challenge. Behind him, Semyon raises an eyebrow, silently daring me to show restraint.
I clench my fists and narrow my eyes at Rodion. "Don’t you ever fucking make a comment about my wife’s looks again.”
“Whoa, sorry," he says, holding his hands up. "I didn’t mean anything.” He looks at Semyon, who meets his gaze.
Yeah, I called her my wife. By all intents and purposes, that’s exactly who she is, whether that’s official on paper or not.
I growl at him but keep my eyes trained on him. Maybe he does have something to teach me.
"The stick worked fine for you.”