Total pages in book: 67
Estimated words: 68102 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 341(@200wpm)___ 272(@250wpm)___ 227(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 68102 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 341(@200wpm)___ 272(@250wpm)___ 227(@300wpm)
Not good. Really not good.
“He had a doctor’s appointment,” she blurted out, trying to distract them both.
Sacha glanced down at her. “What? Who?”
“Oleg. He had a doctor’s appointment. That’s why I’m here opening up.”
“A doctor’s appointment,” Sacha said slowly. As though that concept was something foreign.
For him, it kind of was.
She doubted Sacha ever made time for a check-up, only seeing the family doctor when it became dire.
“It was so urgent that he had to go when he’s supposed to be working? Isn’t that what days off are for? I hope we’re not paying him to go to a private appointment.”
Yes, of course they were.
Because he wasn’t even at a doctor’s appointment. For all she knew, he was still asleep in bed. However, there was no way she could tell Sacha that. If she made him look bad in front of Sacha, she knew he would punish her.
Fuck, her life was a mess.
It felt like she was walking a tightrope, and at any moment, the wrong move would send her plummeting to the ground below.
And she knew she wouldn’t survive that fall.
Guilt dug a deeper hole inside her. It was cavernous, empty; it felt like she would never be able to fill it.
“So, I have a lot to do before opening. I best get onto it.” She injected some impatience into her voice. “Why don’t the two of you get on with whatever you need to do and leave me in peace?”
She pushed Colm’s arm aside and stepped around both men to enter the restaurant.
Please don’t follow me.
Or fight.
She moved over to the bar and leaned her arms on it, resting her head on her folded hands. Christ, she was in a mess. One, she really couldn’t see her way out of it.
You could tell Sacha. Or Colm.
If Sacha found out that she was being abused. . . she shivered. Blood would run. The problem would disappear. Permanently.
But at what cost to their relationship?
At what cost to Sacha?
Because she knew that Oleg would bring her down with him.
Would things be any different if she told Colm?
Probably not. Especially not with how he’d just reacted to Aleksander scolding her.
His protectiveness of her wouldn’t be a good thing for Oleg.
It’s likely not a good thing for you either.
No, there was no way out of this unless she took care of it herself.
But damned if she knew how she was going to achieve that.
She tugged at her sleeve again.
Shit.
It just occurred to her that Colm might tell Sacha about the way she’d reacted when he’d touched her wrist.
Fuck.
Well, there wasn’t anything she could do if he did. Going back in there wasn’t an option.
Surely he wouldn’t tell him. Not when he’d have to admit to touching her.
Right?
Sofia wished she knew . . . but Colm Finlayson was still kind of a mystery to her.
And, unfortunately, he had to stay that way.
“You need to take better care of her,” Colm stated as soon as the door closed behind Sofia. She wouldn’t thank him for his interference, but he couldn’t just ignore the fear and pain in her eyes.
He knew he hadn’t grabbed her hard enough to hurt her. He was very aware of the differences in their strength. She was fragile.
But he was careful not to crush her. He never wanted to see her shatter.
Not that he didn’t want to touch her in a variety of ways and in many different places. He’d love to strip her clothes off and lick every inch of her pale body, kiss her plump lips, suckle on her nipples, and mold her small breasts with his hands.
Calm. Breathe in. Out. Ignore your raging hard-on.
“What right do you have to tell me how to care for my cousin?” Anisimov asked in a low voice.
Fuck. It really wasn’t a good idea to threaten the head of the Bratva. If Anisimov didn’t end him, then Rogan would likely kill him. But this was Sofia, and Colm didn’t think clearly when it came to the tiny, sweet woman.
Why had she flinched when he touched her?
Why did Anisimov have to show up just when Colm had been about to get her to show him her wrist.
Was it bruised? How?
Had someone hurt her?
He clenched his hands into fists at the idea that someone might have harmed Sofia.
He’d kill the bastard.
An image of Oleg floated through his mind. He didn’t trust that bastard. There was something about him that rubbed Colm wrong.
However, he’d never seen him harm Sofia. And she’d never said a word against him.
Surely, if he was harming her, then she would’ve told Anisimov. There was no way that Aleksandr wouldn’t kill anyone who harmed his cousin.
So Colm didn’t get it.
The thought that someone might be hurting her . . . it made him murderous.
Should he tell Anisimov what he suspected?
But what if he already knew? What if he was the one hurting her?