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)
“Sometimes, I swear to fuck, I can feel your mind whirring like a machine,” he says, reaching for my hand to bring my fingers to his lips. I shiver with the warmth of his lips on my skin before he places the flat of my palm on his chest. His heart beats madly beneath my touch. I swallow hard.
“Yeah. I wish I could stop it. I really do, but the past weeks have felt like speed dating or something.” I shake my head.
“The fuck is speed dating?” I stifle a giggle at the look of consternation, biting my lip to keep from laughing.
“It’s like a fast-paced version of the real thing. You remove the fluff and dive right into the actual meat. It’s intentional, with the purpose of meeting multiple people in a single evening instead of stretching it out over weeks.” I poke at his chest. “Maybe consider it for Zoya.”
I expect him to growl in response, and I’m not disappointed. “The hell I will. She’s not dating.”
Outside the tinted window of the car, the view begins to slow. We’re approaching our destination.
“Rafail, you can’t keep her locked up in your tower forever.”
He grunts, frowning. “Why not?”
I sigh. “Yana’s married though?”
His eyes cloud over, and he looks away. “That was to keep her safe. It was her choice, and I allowed it.”
Even though I know he’s being facetious, to an extent, I… I know this argument. No one’s good enough. I close my eyes at another rush of memories.
I’m standing with the woman I now know to be my mother. My brother—one of them—is arguing with her. It’s prom night in high school, and I want to go on a date.
No one is good enough for her.
They said it was too dangerous, too risky for me to go alone without one of them with me. I remember I finally went with a group of girls, as any of the guys in my school wouldn’t come anywhere near me, not with all those dangerous brothers on the periphery.
I remember…
I remember…
I wore a light blue gown with glitter accents and silvery heels. My long blonde hair was piled on my head in loops and swirls. I felt like Cinderella waiting for Prince Charming; only my enchanted pumpkin was a luxury town car, and the guards who accompanied me were three of my oldest brothers.
My god.
I remember.
“We’re here,” Rafail says. I blink as if waking from a memory. It feels as if my amnesia’s begun to unravel as fragmented memories surface. Bits of my past swim in front of me, but I have no time to dwell.
I’m not sure I want to.
The car comes to a halt outside a restaurant. I half expect uniformed valets, but this is a more casual affair. The people entering the restaurant are dressed informally and hardly look at us as we pass. I like it this way. The last thing I want to do is be noticed by anyone.
When we get inside, however, the hostess’s eyes go wide behind her glasses as she sees us. “Mr. Kopolov.”
Rafail nods to me. “And Mrs. Kopolov, yes.”
My heart does a little flip in my chest. I love when he calls me that when he claims me. And the way his fingers lace into mine, at once a reminder that I’m his… I tell myself I shouldn’t fret so much about what I don’t know and hold on instead to what I do. Maybe my identity as Anissa Kopolov is all that matters.
Rafail Kopolov—stern, unyielding, powerful, and sometimes angry… passionate and devoted, fearless and brave—loves me. Me.
I hold his hand, feeling a bit shy, as she leads us to a back room. Before we even enter, we can hear chatter and laughter.
I’ll know some people here, anyway, and I’m thankful when I see the familiar faces of Zoya and Yana. Zoya waves at us and beckons us to come over to her, but Rafail is still saying hello to a few people.
“Ah, there’s the happy couple.” His grandfather is small and frail, but his eyes remind me of Rafail’s, and beneath his calm demeanor lies undeniable strength. His warm eyes and soft voice don’t bely the power he holds. “Welcome. Come, come. Have a seat. Have some wine.”
He gestures to the two vacant seats next to Zoya’s, but Rafail’s still scouting the room. He nods to his friend Vadka and to Semyon, Rodion, and a few other unfamiliar faces I don’t recognize. He introduces me to a few cousins.
“Matvei, Gleb, meet my wife Anissa.”
“Oh,” I say with a smile. “We didn’t meet at the wedding?”
The two men look sharply at Rafail, who only shakes his head. “I’m sorry, she’s forgotten a lot, but her memory’s slowly coming back.” My cheeks flush. Is he embarrassed by me?
“I’m-I’m sorry,” I stammer.
“You’re fine,” Matvei says, extending his hand. He’s a large guy like the others, with broad shoulders and a quiet intensity. Even though he’s not as outwardly threatening as Rafail, his presence alone commands respect.