Total pages in book: 95
Estimated words: 89985 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 450(@200wpm)___ 360(@250wpm)___ 300(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 89985 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 450(@200wpm)___ 360(@250wpm)___ 300(@300wpm)
I wondered if his little stalker was at a window, her face pressed against the glass. I had to stifle a giggle at the thought of her face pressed against the glass, watching me, watching us.
There was no us.
“Do you want to tell me what the problem is?” Peter asked.
“Yeah, you’re not listening to me. I’ve got to get to work, and we’re just sitting here, staring.”
“Something is bothering you,” he said.
“Nothing is bothering me.” I pushed some of the hair off my face. I didn’t get a chance to put my hair in a proper ponytail, and strands were escaping. “Just a warning, though, there is a woman who I think might be stalking you. I don’t know if you and she have anything going on, but she has told me to pretty much stay away from you. Also, I think she might have hinted at me having ideas when it came to you. I don’t have ideas. In case you were wondering. I don’t even think about it, so you don’t have to worry about any of that because I don’t have feelings for you.”
I couldn’t help but ramble.
Peter was looking at me, and it made me a little uneasy because I didn’t know why. I didn’t know what to say or do, so I continued to look ahead in the vain hope that I knew what I was doing.
“I’ll handle Wendy,” he said, turning over the ignition.
And just like that, it would seem the conversation was terminated. Not going to lie, I was a little disappointed, and I didn’t even know why.
Chapter Four
Peter
One Month Later
This was new for me.
I was not used to a woman being like … Niamh. I thought I was breaking her down insisting on the close contact, stretch exercises, but I didn’t even think she registered what was happening. If she did, she was completely silent about it. Sometimes, she even hummed.
When I was in the pool with her again, there was nothing. No sign of arousal. It’s like she’s completely oblivious to me being a man. I didn’t get it.
Driving up to the private location early Sunday morning, I put my car into “park,” climbed out, and stared off into the forest. As a kid, I was forced to hunt in a forest. It was part of being an Orlov. According to my father, a real man can survive anything, all weather conditions, all woodland creatures. To survive meant power. It meant making the elements my bitch. Again, all according to my father, which was a load of bullshit.
I lost a sister with this new wave of testing. My father wanted strong children, not weaklings. My sister was killed by running away from what had scared her. We found her, fallen, blood seeping from her head. Death had already claimed her. She must have fallen. What I didn’t know at the time was my father actually paid people to hunt for us. He wanted to test our strength. Sick fuck. I had killed anyone who came near me when it was my time in the woods.
Being the eldest son, he ran all tests through me, and I never failed any of them. I wasn’t allowed to fail. My need to survive always kept me one step ahead. I was willing to do whatever it took to live.
I despised the man I called a father. Hated the woman who claimed to be my mother. She did nothing to protect us. I saw a lot of death at a young age. It was only when I met Ivan Volkov that I realized my father wanted me dead. He wanted us all dead, and he was using his children as a means for entertainment.
Wanting strong men and women—fighters—was a lie. He really just wanted entertainment. He made a sick and twisted game of it. His friends were rich, wealthy, disgusting sons of bitches, who could watch and gamble on who would survive. Ivan was the one to show me what was happening. He opened my eyes to what my life had become.
I wasn’t earning my father’s respect or gaining my place at his side. No, I was the best player in his game. So I put him in his own game. I also took out a few of the men who sat back and watched, who bet money on my sisters and brothers losing their lives.
After I took out my father, I learned he had some kind of deal going with several foster homes. Not all the boys and girls who took part were family. No, he used unwanted children, those who were problems, who were easy to put on the runaway list, where no one would look for them. If they turned up dead, no one would care.
I didn’t even know why I was thinking about this. I’d dealt with all of this years ago. I took care of the men and women who were involved, with Ivan by my side.