Total pages in book: 129
Estimated words: 120165 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 601(@200wpm)___ 481(@250wpm)___ 401(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 120165 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 601(@200wpm)___ 481(@250wpm)___ 401(@300wpm)
We formed a circle: about twenty of us, the same mafia families who’d been at Borislav’s funeral, but everyone had left their partners at home. Spartak was in the center and the instant I saw him, my chest contracted in fear. He was stalking around like a riled-up bull, his fury so great that he couldn’t stand still.
The last person arrived, and Spartak’s men formed a wider circle outside ours. “For security,” Spartak told us. But they faced inward, not outward, their guns at the ready. My stomach started to churn.
“My brother,” spat Spartak, “has been murdered. And everyone with a motive is standing in front of me.” He paced around the circle, glaring into faces. People gulped and tried to meet his gaze.
Spartak reached our side of the circle and stared at Valentin, then Mikhail, then Gennadiy...and then me. “I’m going to find out who it was,” he told us. “And when I do, I’m going to take whoever you care about most and make you watch while I take them apart, piece by piece.”
I imagined Bronwyn, screaming and bloodied, and wanted to throw up. But as Spartak stared at me, I forced my expression to be stony and cold. A flicker, and I was dead.
Spartak finally nodded that we could go. I climbed into the car, shaken. I’m used to being threatened but Spartak’s threat was suddenly real in a way it wouldn’t have been a month ago.
For the first time, I had a weakness.
31
BRONWYN
One evening, a few days after I moved my stuff into the penthouse, I was pushing the vacuum cleaner around while a Russian language lesson played on my ear buds. Suddenly, out of nowhere, I sneezed.
Radimir marched out of his office and gave me a worried look.
I shook my head. “It’s just the dust.” Although...my head did feel a bit weird.
“Why are you cleaning?” he asked. “The maid comes tomorrow.”
“I know, I’m just…” I sighed. I wasn’t used to this lifestyle, yet. I felt guilty about having someone pick up after me. And I felt guilty about spending money: the credit card he’d given me still hadn’t left my purse. I hadn’t taken him up on the offer of new clothes, either: the idea of me in designer dresses and heels just felt ridiculous.
Then I sneezed again, and now Radimir looked really concerned. “Dust!” I insisted. But my head was spinning, so I gave in and went to bed. He stayed up late, working in his office: he had a big meeting with a state senator the next day. I was half asleep when I heard him creep into the bedroom, trying not to wake me.
Ever since that first night, we’d slept back-to-back. I’d taken to cuddling a pillow to stop me throwing my arms around him while I slept, and it worked, and he stayed on his side of the bed, too. But…one side effect of the steroids is insomnia, and there were two or three nights when Radimir thought I was asleep, but I’d seen him in the mirror, lying propped up on one arm, watching me.
The bed creaked and shifted as Radimir lay down. Immediately, the scent of him and the warmth of his body, so close, made the ache start between my legs, growing stronger and stronger until it blocked out everything else. I could just reach out a hand. Run it over his cock and he’d have me on my back, legs spread, in three seconds...
But he killed people. I couldn’t un-know that, couldn’t close my eyes to it. So I hugged my pillow tight and tried to sleep.
The next morning, I went to roll out of bed and the movement sent my stomach and brain spinning in opposite directions. I grabbed the mattress and lay very, very still. Everything ached and when I tried to reach for my water glass, my arms felt like blocks of lead. The sheets were damp, and my hair was clinging to my face with sweat.
I was sick. Really sick, thanks to the immunosuppressants putting my body’s defenses on vacation. Fuck.
“What’s the matter?” asked Radimir. He stalked over and stood over me in just a towel, a rugged, shower-damp colossus.
“Nothing,” I lied. “I’m fine.” I tried to prove it by getting up but wound up flopping on my back like a sweaty, belly-up turtle.
Radimir frowned and he laid a palm on my forehead. “Call Jen,” he ordered. “You’re not going to the store today. I’ll look after you.”
“But you have work.”
“I’ll take the day off.”
Had he ever taken a day off in his life? “But you’ve got your meeting with the senator!”
“The senator can wait.” And as if to make a point, he pulled on some gray sweatpants and a black t-shirt. I’d never see him in anything but a suit. I hadn’t been sure he even owned casual clothes. But he looked amazing in them, the t-shirt showing off his biceps and the sweatpants giving occasional hints of the bulge between his thighs.