Wicked Intentions (The Bobrov Bratva #1) Read Online Shandi Boyes

Categories Genre: Alpha Male, Dark, Erotic, Mafia Tags Authors: Series: The Bobrov Bratva Series by Shandi Boyes
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Total pages in book: 113
Estimated words: 106541 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 533(@200wpm)___ 426(@250wpm)___ 355(@300wpm)
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“Come, Miss. We need to get ready.” Nun Ellery’s whizz into the bathroom slows to a trot when she spots me kneeling near the toilet. “Again?” When I nod, she wets a washcloth, then dabs up the spillage dribbling off my chin.

“I feel terrible.”

Nun Ellery appears torn. I understand why. Tonight, I am meant to be attending a function with Kirill. He won’t be happy if I try to get out of it. By obeying his every command, I’ve flown relatively below his radar the past month. “I’ll pack some mints. They might help.”

She assists me to my feet, then ushers me into my room. The drapes are closed, but I can tell it is dark out. The room gets super icy when the sun disappears behind the mountains.

“It needs to be white,” I tell Nun Ellery when she pulls a beautiful baby pink dress out of the closet. “Pure white.”

With a groan, she stuffs the dress back into the bursting closet, then selects a dress with a flowing skirt and fitted bodice.

“Oh, dear,” she murmurs when the bodice hugs my breasts so firmly they spill out the top of the boned material. “That’s not what we would call pure.”

Since I agree with her, I ask, “Is there anything else?”

“With the weight you’ve put on the past two months, I don’t think so.” She moves to stand in front of me, then pushes down on the flabby skin popping out the top of my dress. When her shoves do little to hide my cleavage, she suggests, “Perhaps you could wear a coat?”

“That’s a good idea.” I have a large white feathered coat Kirill has requested I wear multiple times when we go out. He thinks the feathers make me look like an angel. “What do you think?” I ask after placing it on.

“It is good. He will be pleased.” Although her habit will have you convinced she is referencing God. I’m not so easily fooled. She is speaking about my husband.

“Good.” I’m such a liar. I still loathe Kirill with everything I have, but I’m living off the hope that my time with him will be short. Ghost said he was striving to get me home, and I trust that is still the plan.

“I placed mints in your bag.” Nun Ellery stuffs a plain white purse with a strap into my chest before fetching my shoes from the bottom of the closet.

At this stage, most people heading out for the evening would commence a makeup and hair routine. I don’t. Kirill said makeup makes me look trashy and that I am only ever to wear my hair down and add a small dab of gloss to my lips.

He’ll probably be wishing he wasn’t so boring when he spots the dark circles under my eyes and my pale skin. My room has a window I sit at for almost sixteen hours a day, but it isn’t the same as standing directly under the sun’s rays.

“I will see you when you return.” Nun Ellery never says goodbye. She thinks it is a bad omen. Not often do the women who leave here return breathing.

After farewelling her with a smile, I make my way downstairs. Don’t let the naivety of my reply fool you. My walk is flanked by the four men who regularly check my room, and there are another four at the end of the stairwell.

Their suffocating presence has had me convinced multiple times in the past month that I imagined Ghost’s middle-of-the-night visit. How could he get through an army unscathed?

He must truly be a ghost.

After dismissing the men shadowing me with a wave of his hand, Kirill steps back to drag his eyes down my body.

He isn’t checking me out. He is approving my choice of clothing.

I breathe again when he spins on his heels and walks outside. He doesn’t need to demand that I follow him. He is anticipating I will obey him or die.

In the back of the stretched town car, Kirill reminds me of the rules he enforces anytime we’re in public together. I am not to speak unless spoken to, I am to explain that my English is poor in a foreign accent, and I am to gush about him as often as possible.

Clearly, his ego isn’t as big as everyone thinks.

“We have special guests attending tonight, so I expect you to be on your best behavior. I will not offer any leniency. If you act out, I will retaliate.”

“I understand.” I choke on the last half of my reply when the driver signals to turn right. We always travel left. Left is into town. It leads us toward society. Right only takes us to the Bobrovs’ private compound.

Does Ghost know of Kirill’s plans tonight? Is he aware I’m coming with him?

I’m highly doubtful when my exit from the car has a stern pair of eyes burning my skin. Ghost is standing on the second-level balcony. His hands are balled into fists, his lips are stern, and he’s shooting daggers.


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