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)
I definitely have no choice, but she won’t like being separated. Hell, I think it’s bullshit myself, but I know better than to push back now.
So I take her by the hand and lead her to the kitchen. I’m still shaking. Still waiting for the fallout from overstepping my place with Rafail. He’ll fucking kill me for that.
“I’m sorry,” Ember says in a whisper. Her eyes are blurred with tears.
“Just do what they say for now. Let me deal.” I kiss her cheek. “You didn’t mean it. I know you didn’t. I know you have reservations about everything, and I know you were just trying to post a video. But I do have to talk to them privately, and I’ll make it better. Hang out with my sisters.” I roll my eyes. “They’re better company anyway.”
The little kitchenette is attached to the living area but secluded, so we can’t see or hear my sisters until we walk through the door. Sweet little Zoya, petite with dark hair and warm brown eyes, and my sister Yana, taller and slenderer than Zoya, stand up against a counter.
“Hey,” Yana says warmly, extending her long, slender fingers out to grasp Ember’s hand. “I’m Yana. This is Zoya. And you are…”
“This is Ember. Take care of her, girls. I have to go talk to Rafail.”
Zoya grimaces. “Good luck. I’m sorry, he’s in a mood, Rodi.” She wrings her hands, always nervous around my thundercloud of a brother.
Yana, however, is less easily intimidated. “Come on, Ember. Let’s get you something to eat. They’ll work things out.”
“I love your account,” Zoya says with a grin. “I can’t believe it’s you here. I feel like I’m meeting a celebrity. Your book recs are life.”
“Zoya!” I’m shocked by her admission. I still think of little Zoya as a child, the youngest sister. And I’ve read those damn books…
“What, Rodi?” She waves her hand dismissively at me. “Relax, will you? Did you forget I’m an adult now?”
“Barely,” I mutter. My brothers will be getting impatient. “I need to get out there. Take care of her.”
I go back to my brothers. They’re waiting in the sitting area.
The vodka’s out, of course.
At least I know Ember’s safe in the kitchen.
I walk straight to the vodka, thankful my brothers brought the good stuff. “Anyone want a drink?” I’m deflecting but don’t fucking care. I walk over and pour myself a few fingers.
“I don’t want a drink, Rodion,” Semyon says with a sigh. “I want answers. We all do.”
But to my surprise, Rafail stands and walks over to me. He’s as tall as I am, but it took me a while to catch up. I know when I’ve pushed too far, and god knows I’ve done it before. He’s always been like a father to me, but maybe now, in some way, he’s more a father than a brother.
When he reaches for me, I stifle a flinch, prepared for anything after what happened out there, but instead, he pulls me into a hug.
Something in my chest loosens.
I tamp it back down again.
“Good to see you, brother, even if I want to wring your damn neck.”
Well, that’s about as tender as Raf gets.
“Good to see you too.”
We step back from each other, and I sip the vodka before I take a seat next to him. “Alright. I’m going to tell you everything. Just relax, okay?”
Rafail leans against a small wooden desk and shakes his head, crossing his arms over his chest. “No. Talk.”
This is not going to go over well.
I take another sip. God, I missed this shit. It tastes like home.
I blow out a breath. “I was doing the job you told me to do. And then… I saw the video Matvei sent of the mafia thirst traps, and I thought… I thought maybe I’d have a little fun.”
“What the fuck did you do?” Semyon asks in a growl, shaking his head.
Time to tackle this head-on and brace for the fallout. Ember can’t shoulder the responsibility alone.
“I started an account,” I admit. “But I didn’t let anyone know who I was. I was masked the whole time since that’s what everyone likes right now anyway.”
“Not everyone,” Semyon mutters. “Do go on. I can’t wait for the rest of this.”
Rafail growls but doesn’t say a word.
I swallow hard. “No one had any idea it was me.”
“Which fucking account?” Semyon asks, his voice dangerous. “Show me.”
God. Shit. I am in so much trouble. Still, I pull up the account and show them.
“Motherfucker,” Rafail mutters under his breath. “What the hell were you thinking? Were you that hard up for attention?” He looks like he wants to throttle me, and honestly, right now, I wouldn’t blame him.
“Wow,” Semyon mutters, peering at my phone. “750,000 followers already? And you barely started? That’s impressive, brother.”
“What the fuck are you talking about?” Rafail looks like he wants to single-handedly beat the shit out of both of us. Wouldn’t be the first time.