Total pages in book: 104
Estimated words: 104127 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 521(@200wpm)___ 417(@250wpm)___ 347(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 104127 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 521(@200wpm)___ 417(@250wpm)___ 347(@300wpm)
She’s a conundrum, that’s for sure.
The dynamics between these people and Sasha make me wonder what their relationship to her is. She speaks to everyone who approaches, but not one has embraced her. It doesn’t even appear these people know her well.
What’s that about?
That’s until I see the frame of a large man walking her way. I can’t see his face from this position, but when he stops in front of her and pulls her into his arms, my fists clench at my sides.
I move a few feet to my left to get a better view, and when I do, I realize he’s the same guy who was at her house the day she found out about Roman. A fucking cop.
Who the hell is this fucker, and why is she hanging around the police? Why is he comforting her?
I don’t fucking like it.
Who is he to her?
He shouldn’t have his arms around her…
I should.
What the fuck.
I cannot be having thoughts like this. She isn’t mine.
She can’t be.
Stepping closer, I continue to watch them interact. They’re very familiar. Too familiar. It makes me uneasy.
Is this a ploy to find out information from her? Is he getting close to Sasha to uncover her brother’s activities before his death?
Maybe the guy’s crooked. It would make sense. Roman said she’s in danger. Maybe he’s working for whoever is after her.
Fuck.
I need to intervene—and fast.
The longer he comforts her, the tighter my fists clench. I feel like a ticking time bomb.
The need to separate them fills me, but I know I can’t. Not here.
She doesn’t know me, and coming between them could tip people off.
Keep telling yourself that’s the reason you’re pissed.
I can admit that this woman is driving me mad. That my obsession with her is growing more than it should. That I’m losing my goddamn mind.
But crossing the line is dangerous. Especially if she’s close to this guy.
Despite my desire, I know to hold off. I can’t approach her. I have to wait.
Patiently.
Something that doesn’t come easy to me.
Drifting back into the shadows, I watch her as the funeral starts. Where everyone else wears the typical mourning colors of muted grays and black, she stands out in a pale-pink dress that fits her like a glove.
Sophisticated. Beautiful.
She’s stronger than I thought she’d be. She’s sitting in the front row of the funeral home, back straight. Head held high. Not a tear is shed for her brother, which makes me wonder.
What was their relationship like?
I expected her to be crying inconsolably like most would be, having lost someone in their family so tragically.
So fucking strong.
The decision is made before I can think better of it.
I could protect her from afar, but that will never work now. No, another plan filters in my head. One so incredibly stupid, I almost want to shoot myself in the foot to stop this shit.
As soon as the service concludes, I make my move without second-guessing it. I straighten my shoulders and slip on the mask of power I wear when dealing with my subordinates. My stride is assured, and several heads swivel as I glide by. I don’t pay them any attention. I fix my gaze on Sasha.
Her head lifts as I approach, and her eyes meet mine.
They’re cornflower blue, ringed in gray. Mesmerizing.
Like the sky at dusk when the sun is setting. They sparkle in the light and draw people to them like a magnet with their intensity.
She looks at me with curiosity, her eyes narrowing as she must be trying to place who I am. But as I step closer, her features shift, and a scowl forms on her face.
She’s pissed.
That much I can tell.
I don’t need to wait long to find out why, because the next thing I know, she’s stalking toward me.
“How dare you,” she hisses, her voice low, but still, there’s a bite. “I know who you are.”
I smirk, unable to help the reaction. “Do you now?”
“You’re the reason my brother was on drugs. You’re the reason he’s dead.”
For a moment, I’m speechless. Despite the end of my relationship with Roman, that accusation landed like a blow to the gut. The feeling doesn’t last long, though. Pure fascination replaces it.
No one speaks to me like this.
They’d die if they did.
Yet this tiny, beautiful woman isn’t afraid of me at all. And she claims to know about me. About my dealings.
“Why. Are. You. Here?” she grits through her teeth, enunciating each word.
My lips part, but no words come out.
She’s a spitfire.
And I like it.
Fuck…this shit turns me on. She turns me on.
“What are you smirking at?” she hisses, and I can’t help but smile wider.
“You.”
She looks like she’s about to throttle me. “You have a lot of nerve.” She can’t contain the volume of her voice. It rises to a pitch, drawing stares from those around us.