Total pages in book: 79
Estimated words: 76820 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 384(@200wpm)___ 307(@250wpm)___ 256(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 76820 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 384(@200wpm)___ 307(@250wpm)___ 256(@300wpm)
When I walk down the stairs, Viktor’s eyes sweep over me. “Much better.” He holds his hand out to me, but I ignore it and walk past him.
I don’t take in the beautiful garden but search the perimeter walls for a way to escape. There are guards stationed everywhere, quickly snuffing out the hope of ever escaping this prison.
“The mansion on the left,” Viktor mutters when I reach a fork in the path.
That means Isabella’s house must be the one on the right. If she’s not joining us for lunch, I’ll go to her and ask for help.
When I reach a set of open French doors, Viktor places his hand on my lower back and nudges me inside. I pull away, shooting a scowl up at him. “Don’t touch me.”
He holds his hands up in a surrendering gesture, then tips his head toward the door on our right.
When I walk into a dining room, my feet instantly come to a faltering stop as all eyes turn to me. Five people are seated at a long rectangular table. Three women and two men.
Viktor walks past me and pulls out a chair. “Come sit.”
My eyes flit between the two older women, trying to figure out which one is Isabella, as I take a seat.
Viktor sits down at the head of the table, then gestures at each person. “Alexei, Isabella, and Mariya Koslov. And these are my parents, Demitri and Ariana Vetrov.”
My eyes are glued to Isabella, who’s staring at my neck. Her voice is low with anger when she asks, “Why are there marks on her neck?”
“Rosalie put up a fight. I never intended to hurt her,” Viktor explains. “I had to subdue her because she was having a panic attack after seeing her uncle being killed.”
Mariya reaches for my hand, and it quickly has me pulling both of mine beneath the table, not wanting anyone to touch me.
“I’m sorry for your loss,” she murmurs.
My loss? I’ve suffered more than just a mere loss, and now I’m expected to have lunch with the enemy and smile and thank them for taking me in?
Shaking my head, I let out a bitter chuckle. “This is insane.” I keep shaking my head as I rise to my feet. “I’m not doing this.”
I dart past Viktor and out of the dining room. I find my way to the French doors and sprint as fast as I can toward the boundary wall.
Before I can reach it, four guards move in front of me.
I come to a faltering stop, wildly looking for another way to escape. When I glance behind me, it’s to see Viktor standing by the path, his arms crossed over his chest as he watches me.
“My men have work to do, Rosalie. They’re not going to chase you around the property all day long,” Viktor calls out.
I look at the Russian soldiers and feel stupid for even trying to get to the wall. Frustrated, I turn around and stalk back to Viktor’s house and straight to my bedroom. I slam the door shut, wishing I had a key to lock it.
Not even a second later, it opens, and Viktor mutters, “So much for having lunch with my family.”
“You can all go to hell. I have no interest in getting to know your family,” I snap as I step out of my sneakers.
Just because I have to stay here for three years doesn’t mean I have to interact with any of them.
“I’m trying to make you feel at home.”
I roll my eyes as I climb onto the bed and yank the covers over my head. “Leave me alone.”
I hear the door shut and when I peek from beneath the covers, I’m relieved to see Viktor’s gone.
So much for asking Isabella to help me.
Honestly, she looked scary as hell. Beautiful but scary nonetheless.
The hope I had before I met Viktor’s family is gone, and the desolate feeling is back. It doesn’t take long before my grief and trauma break me down, and I cry myself asleep.
Chapter 8
Viktor
I hear footsteps, and when my eyes flick from the monitors to the doorway, it’s to see Dad and Uncle Alexei coming into my study. They take a seat, then proceed to stare at me.
Letting out a sigh, I relax back in my chair. “I’m done discussing the subject.”
“We just want to know if you’re sure about this,” Dad says. “Three years is a long time to take care of a stranger.”
“I know.” I glance from Dad to Uncle Alexei. “But the alternative is not an option.”
“Send her to the Cosa Nostra,” Uncle Alexei says.
“You know the Mannos didn’t part on good terms with the five ruling families of New York.” I inhale deeply, then explain, “I just want to give her a safe space to heal. Once she’s twenty-one, she’ll be more mature and able to face the world.”