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)
I lean forward and squeeze her hand. “As long as you remember what’s most important, baby.”
She winks at me as I settle the tab, oblivious, her back turned to the door. It's always my way—situated to see everything, to make sure nothing slips by me.
But then the door opens, and every alarm bell in me clangs. I sit as still as possible and watch.
Three men. I recognize them from somewhere, though I can’t quite place it. The first is tall and stern, his skin golden, his light brown hair slicked back with military precision. The second is a shadow to his light—dressed the same but even taller, with dark hair and a sharpness in his gaze that cuts straight to me. And the third, looming behind them like a storm, is all muscle, so massive he nearly fills the entire doorway.
Everything in me tenses. They’re not here by accident.
I don’t know who they are. I’ve never seen them before in my life. But for some reason, every instinct in me tells me to hide Anissa because other patrons in this place know exactly who they are. They give the trio a wide berth, and as the men approach the counter, the owner comes to the front, wiping his hands on a tea towel.
“Let’s go,” I tell Anissa, leading her to the door. I open it for her, my heart beating faster. I can’t understand what the fuck is going on, but every hair on the back of my neck stands up as one of the men growls something in Russian to the owner.
“I’m sorry, I haven’t worked the counter. I haven’t seen anyone who looks like that. Have you?” In my peripheral vision, I see the barista scrutinizing a cell phone the man holds up, presumably with a picture on it.
“I… wasn’t she just here?”
The door shuts behind us.
Chapter 20
“ANISSA”
Our car is waiting for us, and as the door shuts, I hear a commotion where we just left. Voices shout, and I swear… the voices are vaguely familiar.
My husband looks as if he’s seen a ghost.
“What was that?” I ask Rafail.
“I have no idea.” He shakes his head. “Trouble.”
But he doesn’t meet my eyes. The feeling that he’s hiding something from me intensifies as memories of my past that don’t resonate with what he’s told me leave me feeling confused and bewildered.
“Rafail—” I don’t know how to continue. I don’t know what to say.
Leaning in closer to me, he wraps his arm around my shoulders. “Maybe it was too much, taking you out like this, especially when we’re meeting up with my family.”
But no. It isn’t. I don’t like being sheltered and made to feel like I’m too fragile to handle whatever happens. I hate it, and there’s something about it that triggers a similar memory.
“What is it?” he asks. “You’re pulling away from me.”
I am, in more ways than one. I know I am.
“I’m just… confused. And a little scared,” I tell him truthfully.
I love being with him. I love how protective and strong he is. I’m in a place where I’m wildly vulnerable and unsure of who I can trust. His strength brings me security when I waffle. Even his power and control call to me on a deep, primal level. But beneath his stern, unyielding, even angry exterior—I see the vulnerability he hides. Behind his implacable façade is a deep well of pain, the scars of past betrayal and loss of those he loved. And I love that so much it makes my heart ache.
“That’s alright.” The heavy weight of his arms around my shoulders, the surety of his words and the comfort of his presence make me feel as if he truly does understand. “It will become easier. You’ll see. Trust me to take care of you, and as you say… it will come alright in the end.”
Maybe I’ve imagined anything less? Maybe my confusion led me to believe the one person I can trust above all?
Because from the moment I first met him—or woke, anyway, as if it were our first meeting—there was an undeniable pull between us. Even when I’ve been unsure of who I am or who he is, what his motives are or where my place is, the primal attraction between us is undeniable. He’s dangerous and powerful and utterly, madly devoted to… me.
I rest my hand atop his as we drive through the city streets. Rafail’s alert, as always, even as he holds and comforts me. I can’t help but love this about him too—his intense, commanding nature. It fascinates me how he commands not only his empire and family but the very space around him.
Maybe I have a thing for "alpha male in control" because, goddamn, it's intoxicating. The power play between us thrums hot and electric, cutting through my fears and uncertainties. Even when my past is an enigma and my future a blank slate, there's a dark, twisted freedom with him—a freedom from societal expectations and empty conventions, from the illusion of safety. With him, I can forge a new future, a new identity, even as we’re deeply entrenched in this criminal world of his… No, of ours.