Total pages in book: 187
Estimated words: 177397 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 887(@200wpm)___ 710(@250wpm)___ 591(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 177397 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 887(@200wpm)___ 710(@250wpm)___ 591(@300wpm)
“Okay.” Nikita’s exhale fans my sweaty cheeks with warm air. “Then let’s do this.”
As I join a red-faced and furious Andrik at the end of the aisle, Nikita stays in eyesight the entire time. All I have to do is signal that I want out, and she will relay my every wish to Maksim.
I won’t chicken out, though. Not for my unborn niece or nephew, and not for Andrik’s son. They’re children, and they should be protected no matter what.
“Dearly beloved…” the celebrant starts again. “We are gathered here today to celebrate the…”
There are no objections this time around.
No interruptions.
There is also no kiss.
The instant the celebrant announces Andrik and me as husband and wife, Andrik leaves the altar without a backward glance, shocking our guests and breaking my heart more than my sister’s disappointment that I stole her “wife” title.
66
ZOYA
My groggy eyes slowly open when I hear car doors slamming shut and footsteps. Waking up in a strange environment sucks. It takes me a moment to gather my bearings, and when I do, it adds a ton of pressure onto my chest instead of alleviating it.
I didn’t catch the name of the middle-aged man who drove me here after farewelling Nikita and Maksim in the empty reception area. The guests piled out soon after Andrik, and I’ve been left to navigate my new title and surroundings by myself.
I didn’t recognize the names of the towns we drove through during our long journey to Andrik’s new home base. They ranged in sizes and wealth status, but Andrik’s home can only be described one way—cold.
There is no love in his house, no joy, and the conditions worsen when I discover the reason I was jolted awake. Andrik has returned home. He isn’t alone. The little boy I assume is his son is cradled in his arms. He’s as white as a bed sheet and looks deathly sick.
“Should he be out of bed already?” I follow Andrik through his palatial mansion when he pffts at my question before he storms away. “Why isn’t he still in the hospital?”
I assumed that was why I was brought to this location, because it was closer to the hospital doing Zakhar’s heart transplant.
After Andrik places Zakhar on a bed and gestures for a doctor in the corner of his room to move closer to his bedside, he mutters, “Because you were not their pick, my son has to suffer until you have proven yourself worthy of their selection.”
“What?” A better response is above me. I didn’t realize this was a popularity contest. I thought the only requirement was for Andrik to marry. That’s why I took Aleena’s place.
When I say that to Andrik, he storms up close to me. More than alcohol bounds off his breath when he shouts in my face. Death is there too. “He had a heart! It was right there, in the operating room, waiting for him! But they got word to the surgeon first, and he stupidly believed their wrath would be worse than mine.” When he flexes and unflexes his hands, I notice droplets of blood on the cuffs of his dress shirt he hasn’t changed since we exchanged vows. “It wasn’t.”
A chill runs down my spine, shocked he can speak about murder without the slightest bit of remorse. It only lingers as long as it takes for me to lock eyes with Zakhar. He isn’t my child, but I would still burn down the world for him. Every adult should do the same.
“Tell me what to do to fix this. I’ll do anything you ask.”
Andrik’s laugh is as painful as it is sadistic. “The only way you can fix this is by going back twenty-eight years and praying your philandering absentee father keeps his dick in his pants.”
I slap him before I can consider the consequences of my actions. Andrik’s reaction is just as reckless. He pins me to the wall by my throat quicker than my lungs can be replenished with what I am confident will be my last breath.
It isn’t a sexy hold this time around, nor lusty. It is the grip of a killer who was on the brink of breaking before I pushed him over the edge.
When my nostrils flare, my body too eager to live to surrender without a fight, Andrik’s massively dilated eyes lower to my nose before they drop half an inch lower.
He stares at my lips for what feels like an eternity before his hold eventually loosens enough for me to suck in some miniscule breaths. He isn’t pulling back. He just can’t maintain the hold he needs to kill me and run his thumb over my lips at the same time. Hurting me while caressing me simultaneously isn’t a skill he seems to hold.
The gentleness of his embrace doesn’t match the fury beaming from him. His body is shaking enough for its shudder to be felt from a distance, but the way he strokes my lips is almost nurturing. Loving.