Total pages in book: 94
Estimated words: 92284 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 461(@200wpm)___ 369(@250wpm)___ 308(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 92284 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 461(@200wpm)___ 369(@250wpm)___ 308(@300wpm)
Chapter 11
RODION
It’s a strange way to date someone, but here I am, outside her building, coffee in hand and mask in place.
Last night, I made my decision. My contact here in LA, a detective who works well enough for cash and discretion, dug up what I needed on Ember—and her fucking stepbrother, Shawn.
The way she flinched at his name, froze at his texts… I’d seen enough. The messages he’s been sending her?
Screw discretion. My brothers will get over it.
I’ll fucking kill him.
This morning, the texts from Rafail came in, each one sharper than the last.
Rafail
The Romanovs’ Gala next week. You must bring a woman, Rodion. Everyone is watching. Jesus. If only it were your wife.
I can’t focus on this, not yet. She barely knows me, definitely doesn’t trust me, and there’s no fucking way I’m taking anyone else.
So I table the conversation and mute our messages.
For now.
But god, what I wouldn’t want to do to make her an offer. An escape from that shitty apartment, from the reckless “starving artist” routine, wandering through alleys unarmed. She didn’t see the danger she courted.
Ember Steele. Fierce but blind to the way men looked at her.
The thought of Shawn ignites something dark in my chest. That bastard won’t touch her again.
She deserves a reckoning for her carelessness—walking around the city as if she weren’t a target, a temptation. If I had my way, I’d bend her over my knee for that alone. A good spanking to remind her who the hell she belongs to.
For now, I wait.
I have plans for her, shit I want to do… if I could make this all work and appease my brother at the same time.
But I can’t get ahead of myself.
What if in the light of day she’s come to her senses and tells me to fuck off?
I shift my weight, gripping the coffee cups tighter as her front door creaks open.
I need to confront this woman about her fucking recklessness and vulnerability, so when she asked if I wanted to swing by today, I didn’t even hesitate.
The door opens, and for a few seconds, my thoughts come to a screeching halt.
She’s here.
I just saw her, but it feels like seeing her for the first time all over again.
Never in my life would I have agreed to allow her to stay alone after Shawn’s fucking display; never would I have imagined she’d be on her own, but she won’t come to my place, and she won’t let me stay at hers.
I guess in her world, that makes sense. In mine, I’m making fucking accommodations, and my patience is drawing to a close.
I hold my breath when she steps outside. Her lips, slightly parted, draw my gaze like a goddamn magnet, the morning sun catching the copper in her hair. Her emerald-green eyes widen in recognition as they meet mine, her breath catching momentarily. In an instant, the widening fades, replaced by a sharp, narrowed glare.
Though she shifts nervously, and her cheeks turn pink, her voice is conversational.
Interesting.
“Hey. So we’re really keeping up with the mask thing?”
I don’t respond right away, letting the words settle between us as I extend one of the coffee cups toward her. She doesn’t take it at first, her gaze flicking between me and the drink like she’s weighing whether or not to throw it in my face.
Finally, she snatches it, takes a tentative sip, and then narrows her eyes even further. “This is exactly the way I like it.”
I love the way she sighs contentedly as she takes another sip. “Though I guess the fact that you know how I take my coffee should be the least of my worries.
“And yet,” I say, my voice low and amused, “you drank it. As far as the mask… it’s part of my identity at this point.”
The blush deepens when she looks away. She doesn’t know how to play this—how to deal with me.
Good. It means I’ve got her off balance.
“Walk with me,” I say, already turning toward the street.
For a second, I think she won’t follow, but then I hear her boots on the pavement behind me.
We walk in silence, the city waking up around us. She’s clutching her coffee like it’s a shield, glancing at me from the corner of her eye every few steps.
“We should go to the roof,” I grumble, eying the entrance that will take us to the elevator.
With a nod, she agrees, turns a corner, and shows me a rusty metal door hidden in the shadows. I haven’t been here before. We walk across the cracked pavement.
“Where the hell does this lead?” I ask her with a growl because the very thought of her here, alone…
“Upstairs. The roof? You said that’s what we needed.”
Her shoulder brushes mine, and I can feel the tension radiating off her body like static.
Like fire.