Total pages in book: 97
Estimated words: 94829 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 474(@200wpm)___ 379(@250wpm)___ 316(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 94829 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 474(@200wpm)___ 379(@250wpm)___ 316(@300wpm)
Life is fundamentally meaningless.
Except now I have Dasha, and I can’t stop the little voice in my head from thinking about her.
It’s like some stupid, protective switch got thrown, and now I’m a mess.
We finish the meeting with more logistical discussions. Mostly Sona runs things, but I get more involved when we circle back around to the Irish.
Arsen and Sona are both concerned, but they don’t see the threat as acutely as I do.
I’m boots on the ground. My world’s the streets, and my life is the soldiers. What they’re hearing is what I’m hearing, and there are whispers all over Baltimore.
The McGraths are going to make a move. It’s only a matter of time.
As the meeting breaks up, I step into the hall, eager to get back home. I want to check and make sure that Dasha’s okay. I called Vito earlier, and he assured me that the guards are keeping an eye on her and that she hasn’t stepped foot out of her rooms.
“Tigran, just a second.” Aunt Sona hurries to catch up to me. I jab at the elevator call button, hoping to make it come faster. Damn machines never work when I really need them.
No luck. She gives me an aggrieved look but doesn’t comment on my escape attempt.
“What can I do for you?” I ask her, not hiding my reluctance.
“I know I’m giving you a hard time, but Arsen’s right.” Sona’s lips press together. “Your marriage to Dasha Zeitsev is important.”
I grunt in reply. That’s about the nicest thing Sona’s said to me in months. “I’m aware you think I’m going to fuck it up, but I’ll do my duty. I always have.”
“I know that.” She steps into the elevator when the doors open. I follow her inside, and we ride down together. “There’s a big meeting of the Brotherhood in a few days. I want you to bring her.”
“That’s not a good idea.”
“I know she’s shy. I understand that she’s been something of a recluse—”
“That’s an understatement. The girl fainted during our wedding. She hasn’t been outside of her father’s house in twelve years.”
Sona’s frown tightens. I swear, that woman’s expression is locked in that annoyed glare. “Regardless, she needs to be seen. Everyone in the Brotherhood leadership will feel better about the alliance if they realize Dasha’s just a person instead of the avatar of the evil Russians. Do you understand?”
“Humanize her. I get it. But I still don’t think it’s a good idea.”
“Trust me, it’s our best option. It’ll go a long way.”
The doors slide open. I’m tempted to tell her to shove her spreadsheets up her tight ass and fuck off, but she was slightly nice to me a second ago. And she’s probably right about letting the other heads of the family see Dasha.
“Fine. I’ll get her there. But I can’t promise she’ll ever show up again.”
“So long as you do it this one time, that’ll be fine.” Sona nods at me curtly before striding off.
Well, shit.
Dasha’s not going to like this.
But we’d better learn to play the game now that we’re important pieces.
Chapter 8
Tigran
My wife isn’t the only one who appreciates her own space.
This house has been my sanctuary for the past few years. Brotherhood money is good, and I’ve used almost every dime I’ve made to invest in various successful businesses. My personal fortune’s grown substantially, and my greatest and most prized asset is my home.
It’s the sound of the harbor: the lapping of water against the breaker walls, the noise of the boats, the laughter from tourists, the bustle of locals running along park trails and laughing on benches. This neighborhood is the lifeblood of Baltimore, and it’s the only place that makes me feel remotely calm and at peace.
Now I’ve got a problem living in my own damn walls.
I have no idea what I’m supposed to do with her. Beyond fuck her and get her pregnant. We’re supposed to share a life, at least until the baby comes, and then she can move back to Philly and never set foot outside again.
But until then, she’s my wife.
Which is straight-up baffling.
How the hell am I married? To a little, sweet girl like that?
I’m a black-hearted killer. I’ve got more blood on my hands than a goddamn military brigade in wartime.
And somehow, I’m supposed to coax that sexy little terrified Russian girl out of her prissy little shell?
God, it’s annoying.
I stand outside her door, hesitating. I should just barge the fuck in. It’s my house, after all, but I know that’s the wrong move. She nearly passed out from embarrassment when she walked in on me getting changed. Imagine if she’s naked in there or something?
Wouldn’t that be nice? Seeing her small, tight body stripped bare. Her pale skin would turn bright pink, and she’d mutter something about looking away, and I’d take her by the hair and bury her uptight little mouth with my own. Kiss her nice and deep before fucking her to the hilt. Get her juices all down my big dick. Make her lick it off…