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)
Awkward silence hangs in the air between us before I nod. I’m not used to him being unsure, much less deferring to me. Silence stretches before I shrug. “I think so. It depends.”
His brow furrows. “On what?”
“Um, who made it?”
Laughter erupts around us, and something loosens in my chest. Zoya’s eyes dance at me. “I made the coffee.”
I nod seriously. “Then yes, please.”
I take a sip of the coffee. It’s black and bitter, and I wince at the taste. Rafail slides a carton of cream toward me without meeting my eyes. “You like it with cream,” he says, his voice low. I pour it in and give the cup a stir, finding the taste much more bearable now. “Yes, I like it.”
"You don’t remember what you like or who you are?" Zoya asks gently.
"Yes, and it’s unsettling," I admit. "I had a dream last night that felt so real before I woke up and realized that waking up feels like a dream too."
Zoya gives me a sympathetic look, but Rafail cuts in, shifting the conversation. “Let’s go over the plans for the day.” He turns to me. “Today, you’ll have that appointment with the doctor. Yana, make the appointment.” He goes off on a litany of tasks for all of them. Some make sense to me, and some don’t.
“Zoya, reach out to the Popovs today. I want them to know we still honor our agreements despite everything going on.”
She nods and says something quietly with her back to us. “On it.”
“Semyon, circle back and make sure that shipment arrives tonight without a hitch.” His voice lowers. “No mistakes this time.”
Semyon nods but sits straighter, clearing his throat. I can tell he’s the type who rarely makes mistakes, and definitely not the same one twice. He takes pride in perfection and doing his job. “Of course.”
“Rodion, I want you to meet with Vory and let them know we’re watching.” He holds his youngest brother’s gaze. “Make it clear I don’t trust them, but remember you’re the messenger.”
Rodion blows out a breath, his shoulders slumping as he opens his mouth to protest, but Rafail cuts him off, sharp and direct. “Don’t fuck this up, Rodion. I’m not saying it again.” He leans in closer, his eyes narrowing, his voice low and dangerous. “You remember what happened last time, right? If I have to leave Anissa to drag your ass out of another mess, you’re gonna wish you’d never left the house.”
His glare is so intense that even I shrink back in my chair, a little voice in my head already whispering, Whatever you do, just don’t get on his bad side.
Rodion lets out a long, dramatic sigh, rolling his eyes but eventually nodding. “Alright, alright. Got it.” He glances at me, giving a half smirk. “See what I have to put up with?”
Rafail ignores him and goes back to issuing orders. “Yana.” She’s on her phone, presumably pulling out the number he asked her for. “Check on the financials for the front companies. Make sure everything looks clean as hell. I heard rumors of auditors breathing heavily down the neck of a few friends. We’re squeaky clean.”
She nods and crosses her legs gracefully. “Obviously.”
“And I need to talk with Danila. He reached Bangkok this morning, yes?”
Her eyes meet his warily. “About what? You promised me he wouldn’t get involved in family business.” Her wedding band glints in the overhead lighting. I’m gonna guess Danila is her husband.
“And I’ll keep my promise. That doesn’t mean I don’t get to talk to him about you.” He holds her gaze. “You’re my sister. I don’t care if you’re married. You’re part of this family, and I want to make sure you’re safe, especially when your husband is traveling.”
My heart melts a little.
The rest of them begin clearing the table, but Zoya stays near me, always eager to help. "I'll help in the kitchen," she says, but Rafail snaps again. “No. Sit.”
She quickly takes her place and sits.
I turn to him with a raised brow. "Do you always tell them what to do like this?” I bite back a sarcastic reply that I don’t think he’d appreciate and remember his admonition. “Rafail… relax.”
“Listen,” he says, leaning forward, his eyes dark and unflinching. The blunt tips of his rough fingertips press together. “This isn’t a request, Anissa. It’s a partnership, one my siblings will be as familiar with as you. You’ll learn how things work around here and fast.” His voice drops, cold and sharp. Poor Zoya flinches. “I always take care of what’s my responsibility—but you give me everything in return. No questions.”
“Zoya, help me with the dishes?” Rodion asks. She scurries out of the room before Rafail can stop her.
I find myself asking, “You don’t have staff that work for you? With a house this size, I would've thought you’d have people to cook and clean.”