Total pages in book: 73
Estimated words: 71200 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 356(@200wpm)___ 285(@250wpm)___ 237(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 71200 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 356(@200wpm)___ 285(@250wpm)___ 237(@300wpm)
Taking over the weed business from the Aslan Bratva is my ultimate goal, but my life’s been tangled up tightly with Alisa. I can’t simply use her however I want, even if that would be the most expedient path. I made promises to her, and I’m the kind of man that keeps his promises, even when it’s difficult, even when others might give up and turn back on their word.
Alisa’s needs are my own now.
My wife’s desires are my desires.
Which is strange, given how solitary I’ve been up to this point.
The marriage makes sense. My logic is solid, and I don’t regret this course of action at all.
Only I wish I didn’t feel this strange, impossible pull toward her.
“Did you seriously grow up here?” she asks, staring out the window as we roll down the private driveway toward the mansion.
It’s an enormous house. Ostentatious, obscene. “My great-grandfather built this place to project the family’s power,” I tell her as the sedan parks near the side entrance. The private doorway is for close members of the organization only. “But yes, I grew up here.”
“I can’t even imagine,” she says, a strange laugh in the back of her throat. “And it’s not like I came from nothing. But this…” She trails off, at a loss for words.
It’s hard to see this house through her eyes. This building and the accompanying power dynamics are woven into my very existence. The columns, the tiles on the roof, the multiple wings, manicured landscaping, multiple cars, the armed guards, they’re all a part of my life, etched deeply into my childhood. The dim rooms, the twisting passages, the secret staircases, libraries, music halls, and billiards rooms, they’re the veins through which my memories flow. This house is everything to me, but it’s also a monolith, a representation of the family that binds me to its will. No matter what I do, I will always be a Crowley. Like this mansion will always be the Crowley mansion.
“We’ll see my brother first,” I say as we head inside. She’s staring around, her jaw hanging open at the paintings, the statues. There are some new antiques I’ve never seen before. Carson’s making the place his own, it seems. “Then we’ll visit my mother.”
She clears her throat, looking overwhelmed. “Your mother?”
“I can’t have a wife without presenting her to my mother.”
“Too late for that. Pretty sure we signed all the papers. What if she doesn’t accept me?”
“Those can be destroyed if my mother so chooses.” I try to bury a smile, though I’m only slightly kidding.
She looks uncomfortable. “Now I wish I’d dressed nicer.”
“You look perfect,” I say, meaning it. Alisa’s gorgeous: thick, auburn hair, full red lips, a lovely figure. Small, slender features. Russian, extremely Russian, but in a good way.
We reach my brother’s study. My father’s former office. I don’t miss the old man. I knock once then enter, not waiting for Carson to call out. I know he’s here—I sent word ahead to confirm—and I’ve never bothered with ceremony. If Carson doesn’t like it, he can try to make me change. Though we both know that won’t happen.
My brother looks up from his desk, annoyed, but says nothing. He’s in the middle of looking through a ledger, one of half a dozen splayed all over the place. Businesses, probably local. Checking to make sure their profits and losses align. Part of the job of being the boss, making sure everything’s earning money. Despite how powerful our family becomes, cash keeps everything going.
“Liam,” Carson says, not sounding at all excited to see me. The feeling’s mutual. “You brought a guest.”
“Carson, this is Alisa Rostova. As of this morning, she’s Alisa Crowley.”
No reason to fuck around.
Carson’s mouth drops open. He stares at her, obviously stunned.
Alisa clears her throat, clearly not comfortable with the last name yet, and approaches the desk. “It’s nice to meet you. Liam’s told me lots—”
“We met yesterday,” I tell him, interrupting her. She grimaces, then turns and glares at me. I ignore her and continue. “She was going to marry Rustik Aslan. Now she’s married to me instead.”
Carson sits back like I punched him in the face. He looks from Alisa to me and back again, shaking his head. “I’m sorry, Alisa? It’s nice to meet you, but can I speak with my brother alone?”
“Of course.” She turns to leave.
“Stay.” I pin her with a stare. “You’re part of this family now whether Carson likes it or not. Don’t go anywhere.”
“Uh, sorry, I don’t want to get in the middle—” she starts, but it’s much too late for that.
“Fine, let her stay.” Carson rubs his temple. “What the fuck is this about, Liam? Are you being serious right now?”
I sit down on the chair facing his desk. After a moment’s hesitation, Alisa joins me, looking pretty pissed off.