Total pages in book: 99
Estimated words: 94640 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 473(@200wpm)___ 379(@250wpm)___ 315(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 94640 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 473(@200wpm)___ 379(@250wpm)___ 315(@300wpm)
I open my mouth, then close it again because I don’t have an answer. Why am I still standing here when I can go collect myself and get some time alone?
“Your room, Anya,” he says, softer this time. “I’m not going to ask you again. I’m a patient man, but I have my limits.”
His words hang in the air, a promise and a threat rolled into one.
I want to see him snap. I want to see him lose control. I want to dismantle him as thoroughly as he does me. I hate how he twists my resolve into something that feels dangerously close to… submission.
I hate him for it. I hate myself for the glimmer of something like hope that still flickers in my chest.
Top of the stairs. On the left.
His words ring in my head. I make it to the top of the stairs and slam the door behind me when I hear a ping.
I look up in surprise to see my phone on a fancy charging station next to the bed. I walk to it and check the notifications.
Ophelia
I’m sorry to bother you, Anya. I hate to do this. I can’t find Stefan.
Chapter 8
SEMYON
I know the second she decides to run.
The shift is subtle, like a piece moving on the chessboard. A faint creak of the floorboards. The guards outside her window reporting nothing because she’s clever enough to know they’ll be watching.
I sip my drink and shake my head. Maybe she thinks she’s outsmarting me. It’s funny how she thinks she knows me.
I almost admire her audacity. I thought seeing me prove that she wasn’t in debt anymore would change how she felt about things, but apparently not.
I open the security feed on my tablet and stare at the screen, flipping through the cameras until I find her. I want to see where she’ll go and why. She’s moving with purpose, slipping through the hallways, her expression a mix of determination and desperation. She swipes at her eyes and doesn’t look back.
What does that mean? She can’t think she’ll be able to just slip away, does she? Or does she fear the punishment I promised her?
I tap the comms button, signaling the guards stationed inside the house. “No interference. Let her go.”
There’s a pause at the other end of the line. They know better than to question me and know better than to talk back. “Yes, sir. Understood.”
I watch as she makes her way to the side door. She’s found the keycard—predictable. She’s anything if not resourceful. She doesn’t realize I left it there intentionally. I wanted to see what she’d do. I’m almost disappointed she took the bait so easily.
If I really wanted to make sure she didn’t run, it would’ve been laughably easy. But you can tell a lot about a person based on two things: how they react when cornered and where they go when they get a chance to run. So far, I’ve learned a few things about Anya: She’s a fighter. Doesn’t crumble under pressure. Her pride won’t let her admit defeat. She values autonomy.
I almost smile to myself. Others might see her as rebellious, but I see her in a different light—Anya’s a challenge to me.
I adjust my dick, hard as fuck.
God, I love a challenge.
I watch on the feed as she steps outside, straight into the pouring rain. God, she couldn’t grab an umbrella? They’re lined up in the front hallway.
I’m paces away from her, my keys in my hand. I’ll take the Lexus because it’s quiet and dark.
Her steps quicken, her pace picking up as she gets closer to the edge of the property. I open the side door that takes me to the garage and slide into the driver’s seat, still watching her.
A car waits for her on the street outside the gate. It’s hard to see in the rain, but I zoom in—Ophelia. She looks at the exit as if half expecting that my guards will stop her, but they’re standing down as ordered. The taillights disappear, and she drives off. I wait a beat before taking off after them.
I won’t storm her; that’s not my style. I follow slowly and curse to myself.
Her friend drives like a fucking lunatic. This will be the last time my wife gets in a car with Ophelia in the driver’s seat.
I hold myself back, intentionally making sure I don’t allow them to see that I’m following. I want to see where she’s going.
Work? Is she so concerned about the bakery that she has to go see to it? It’s late at night, and the shop is closed by now, but making sure my business was taken care of would be one of the few reasons I would be out alone at night, so it’s the first one that comes to my mind.