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)
He doesn’t respond right away but steeples his fingers and gets that distant look he has when he’s planning his next move on the chessboard. His eyes darken, and his voice drops. Sometimes, I love how intense he is. Sometimes, it terrifies me.
“Some, yes. Either Eli is involved with them and went underground to make us question things," Semyon says, "or they're planning something else."
Semyon stares into the distance, as calculating as always, but I can’t shake the weight pressing on my chest. What if Eli isn’t just a pawn in their game? What if he’s a player too? What does that mean for us? I promised my mother I’d hold my family together, but right now, I’m the one unraveling…
"What would they be planning?" My voice sounds strange to my own ears.
"The best way to get to us,” he replies. "First, the cameras at the bakery—"
My stomach twists, and I look away. I know exactly what those cameras caught on film. The thought of anyone else seeing it—
"Then the gunshots at the gala. The video of Eli. The Irish are on the move—we know that much. We also know the girl who betrayed us years ago is in league with them. But we don’t know how Eli fits into this puzzle."
I sit back, thinking, as Zoya leaves to get some food, and I process all of this.
I need to be independent, to take care of Stefan, but that need clashes with the growing attraction I feel for Semyon. And even as I fight it, I’m terrified of depending on anyone.
From where I’m lying in the bedroom, the estate seems eerily quiet. The walls seem to hold their breath in anticipation. Outside the door, guards stand like statues. It’s like living inside a war plan.
I want answers. I want to know where we stand. I want to know Eli is okay—and that my family is safe.
"There’s one thing that troubles me in all this," Semyon admits, leaning forward until his forearms rest on his knees. “Remember, when we find your brother, he’s going to know that I married you."
“Yeah, so that’s not going to go over very well.” I grimace. “He’ll never forgive you.”
I can still see him going straight for Semyon years ago in the small shed. So much has happened between then and now, but will that change how he feels? And where will that leave us?
“I know.”
Eli was his only friend. I steel myself for the next question. I look Semyon straight in the eyes. "Did my father have anything to do with this?" I ask.
Semyon purses his lips and shakes his head. “He didn’t when he agreed for you to marry me."
I blink, wondering if I heard him correctly. "What was that?"
"He didn’t seem involved when he agreed for you to marry me," Semyon repeats, meeting my gaze. “If he were, I would’ve thought we’d know then.”
I stare. My father… agreed to let him marry me?
What?
All this time, I thought it was my choice, that I’d made the decision to sacrifice myself for my family, and now he tells me… it was preordained?
"You said I had the option of marrying you," I say, shaking my head. Why is he acting so casual when I feel like he’s just delivered a bombshell? “And now you're telling me my father was playing this game all along?"
"Yes, Anya. I wanted you to know the truth.” He runs a hand through his hair, making it stick up. It’s unsettling, his hair standing on edge, paired with his rumpled clothes. “I’m sorry for any way I manipulated you."
He says it as plainly as he might apologize for bumping into me in a crowded supermarket.
This was all a ploy to get me to marry him. A plan to gain access to my family’s bakery, fortify it, and strengthen his own family.
His family always comes first, doesn’t it?
An emotion I can’t describe rises in my chest, but I push it down. I have to deal with the present. Now.
It was all a lie. A carefully orchestrated plan. I was convenient but nothing more.
I fell for it.
Zoya knocks gently at the door. Semyon’s back on his phone with a scowl while my world is caving in on me.
The walls feel too close, as if they're closing in. I tell myself that I'm not in my right mind—that there's more to the story than meets the eye. I tell myself that I need to stop reacting and that I need to think this through before I make a decision.
I tell myself that I matter.
But the words feel hollow.
Something is off. Too much has happened too fast, and the answers only seem to raise more questions. But one thing is clear—Semyon all but admitted it. My father was involved to a degree, enough that he gave me away before I even knew there was a choice to make.