Total pages in book: 113
Estimated words: 106541 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 533(@200wpm)___ 426(@250wpm)___ 355(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 106541 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 533(@200wpm)___ 426(@250wpm)___ 355(@300wpm)
When he leans in, to others it looks like he is whispering reassurance in my ear.
The only reassurance I get is that this man is going to be the death of me.
“First, you touch your cunt while moaning his name. Now you’re ratting out a family business you will never be a part of.” He presses his lips to the shell of my ear before growling out, “Keep your mouth shut before I find something far more enticing to stuff it closed.”
He jackknifes back when I whisper, “Do you really think your limp dick will be up to the task?”
I don’t think my teeth will survive his strike this time around, but I brace myself, nevertheless.
The hit I am anticipating never comes. Kirill chuckles like I said something funny before he shifts his focus to someone I hadn’t noticed entering the room until now. “Lera, come to Daddy. I think we should play a game with Katie.”
Fear rains down on her as quickly as it does me.
“I won’t mention him again.”
Kirill angles his head, then pricks out his ear. “What was that?”
“Ghost—”
“Ghosts don’t exist. Hasn’t anyone ever told you that?”
To ensure he gets across his point, he walks Lera out of the room with a rough tug on her arm that instantly springs tears down her face.
“Don’t,” I bark at Grayson when he joins me at the table. “I spilled some juice. I’m fine.”
“Katie—”
“I said I’m fine.” After waiting for the focus to shift off me, I murmur, “But it would be better if you weren’t here.”
Stealing his chance to reply, I disregard the hungry grumbles of my stomach and return to my room, where I spend the next three days in solitary confinement.
I am starving and thirsty but untrusting of everyone.
Grayson said he would remove the footage of me self-pleasuring myself. He clearly lied because there was no way Kirill would have known about that if he had done as offered.
He lied to me, and that hurts as much as knowing I could be hurting more than myself with my refusal to eat this time around.
My head slings to the side when an odd vibration sounds from my feather coat. It isn’t cold enough in this part of the world for such a large coat, but since it is Kirill’s favorite, I’m forced to wear it anytime we go outside.
Don’t misunderstand what I am saying. We haven’t had any ventures outside the house yet, but there have been two events in the expansive garden. They all seem to be celebrating the same thing.
The Bobrovs’ resurrection in the United States.
My breathing shallows when I discover the reason for the noise. It is the smooth, sleek cell phone Grayson gave me after the altercation in the dining room days ago. It was a peace offering I clutched to until I realized I don’t know the lock code.
I hid it away when my attempt to unlock it saw me locked out for five hours. I couldn’t risk a permanent lockout.
After digging it out of the breast pocket of my jacket, I debate whether I should answer the call for what feels like a lifetime. My head is one hundred percent against it, but my heart slides my finger across the screen and squashes it to my ear before I can contemplate how dangerous I am behaving.
First, goading Kirill.
Second, going on a hunger strike amongst men who don’t give a shit about me.
And third, this.
“Hello,” a deep yet still boyish voice says down the line. “Grayson, are you there?”
“Grayson isn’t here.” I swallow a handful of times, hopeful some spit will ease out my next lot of words. “I haven’t seen him in days.”
“Katie?” I pull down the phone to make sure it is not recording before squashing it back to my ear. “It’s you, isn’t it?”
“I have to go.”
“Is Grayson okay? That’s all I need to know.” He sounds genuinely concerned. “You don’t need to tell me anything else.”
I peer up at the camera in the corner of my room before angling my torso so my back faces it. “He’s okay, but he needs to go. Kirill isn’t happy.”
“What do you mean? Why isn’t Kirill happy?”
My neck snaps to the side so fast when a thick Russian voice booms through my closed bedroom door. “Did someone order room service?”
Grayson’s phone slips from my grasp when I recognize the voice.
Alek.
53
KATIE
Just like the time Ghost protected me from Artyom, I don’t run from Alek when I notice his split knuckles and bloody face. I run to him.
“Hey. It’s okay, Kate. You’re all right.”
I clutch to him for dear life, certain he is going to vanish at any moment.
“It’s okay,” he assures me again before pulling me back to arm’s length. “But I need you to listen to me, okay? I don’t have long.” It dawns on me why he is whispering when his hand clamps my mouth as a shadow moves under my door.