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)
Now, the quiet and cold make me breathe a bit easier. I tilt my head back, closing my eyes. Above me, bright stars are deeply embedded in the night sky, flickering above the haze of the city. I give myself space to breathe.
The sound behind me comes so softly, at first, I almost miss it. The faint crunch of footsteps on gravel. But before I can turn, a hand slips over my eyes.
A blindfold.
“Rodion.”
This isn’t the time or place. If he thinks he’s going to—
A hand catches mine, wordlessly pulling my hands behind my back. Rope—maybe silk? Tightens around my wrists.
“Shh,” a voice whispers behind me.
This doesn’t… feel like Rodion. I can’t tell if it sounds like him, but…
I sniff hard, trying to see if I recognize his scent, but it’s impossible in the frigid air. Rodion smells like cedar and gunpowder, sharp and dangerous, and so utterly masculine it makes me ache. This… this is different.
Unfamiliar.
And even though Rodion can be rough, he never hurts me.
The grip on my wrists isn’t just restrictive—there’s an underlying roughness that feels wrong.
Rodion would never hurt me.
It feels like this person might.
“Rodion?” I whisper again, my pulse spiking, praying that he’ll give away some clue that it’s just him, and he’s just enacting one of my fantasies again. Maybe he has a secret room or a shed he’ll bring me to, maybe—
A hand over my mouth is my only response.
Chapter 26
RODION
I sip my drink. Cold air bites through the open balcony. I should be inside. Playing the part. Shaking hands. Smiling like I belong here.
I married Ember and lied to her. I told her this was temporary, that we’d get my brothers off my back. I appeased the Bratva gods, knowing if I showed up married, my entire family would be cast in a better light.
I knew that.
And yet… and yet…
I can still feel her. I can still hear her.
Somewhere along the line, I fucked up.
This is too much.
I came on too strong, maybe.
Was it the stalking?
The forced marriage?
Or maybe fucking her against the window…
I smirk and shake my head.
I told myself I would do things right, but the more I stand out here I realize… I’m lying to myself.
I take another sip and polish it off.
It does nothing to steady my nerves.
I need more.
Ember thinks I don’t know what she’s doing, that I can’t see the way she’s unraveling beneath the weight of this.
I won’t have her looking over her shoulder the rest of her life for him. Shawn.
His name is a curse I want to rip out of our lives.
She deserves a life free from worry.
I don’t have many regrets, but at the very top of the list is that I didn’t kill him the second I found out from her exactly what he did.
I look inside. She’s standing near Zoya, her head tilted slightly. Even from here, I can see the way her hands tremble around the flute of champagne she hasn’t touched.
Trying to hold herself together.
But when the person next to Zoya turns to me, I see it isn’t Ember after all.
Where the hell is she?
Go to her.
I walk to her as if she cast a spell on me, and I’m helpless to fight against her incantation.
Fuck. Maybe she did. My little queen, the sorceress.
I push off the railing and head to her, back into the crowd. The faces around us blur—the Romanovs, Bratva leaders, our rivals, and our friends. Polished socialites wrapped in designer clothing, all pretending that an art auction charity event will somehow buy their way into the good graces of all. None of that matters.
I can’t find her.
“Rodion?” A heavy hand falls on my shoulder. Rafail.
Fuck.
“I was just telling Mikhail about what you found in California. One more minute. Can you tell him the rest?”
His grip tightens slightly as if to warn me. Mikhail Romanov stares at me, his gaze unyielding. “I heard you had some blowback. Tell me what happened. I have friends in California.”
I look for Ember but don’t see her.
“I will,” I say with a nod. “I need to talk with Ember first.”
“Rodion—”
I shrug out of Rafail’s grip and head for Ember.
“I’ll be right back.”
But I can’t find her. Anywhere.
The Romanov estate is an enigma, rooms upon rooms, and everywhere I go, I find more people, more uniformed staff, clinking glasses, and small talk. Everyone… but her.
I barely stifle the need to scream her name, to raze this fucking party to the ground to find her.
I should’ve stayed right next to her.
Logically, I know I shouldn’t fear the worst. The Romanovs have a legion of guards and protective measures, but tonight… tonight, there are so many people.
Where is she?
I weave through the crowd, my pulse hammering. The air in here feels suffocating, and my patience is at an all-time low. Where the fuck are you, Ember?