Total pages in book: 74
Estimated words: 72284 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 361(@200wpm)___ 289(@250wpm)___ 241(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 72284 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 361(@200wpm)___ 289(@250wpm)___ 241(@300wpm)
The unbridled cries erupting from my arched throat as he made me come time and time again on his bed.
What he did to me with his face buried between my legs.
Oh God.
I close my eyes as the humiliation washes over me. “You used me.”
When I open my eyes, Lev is calm and expressionless, showing not an ounce of remorse, and a deep embarrassment twists in my stomach. That night meant nothing to him, and I was a fool to think it did.
“Wilson had disappeared,” he says. “You hadn’t. If there was a chance you could lead me to him, then I had to take it.”
“But I told you on the plane that I didn’t know where he was.”
“I didn’t know if you were lying or not. For all I knew, you were telling me a story you and Wilson had concocted as a part of the ruse.”
My stomach drops. “You played me.”
“It needed to be done,” he says, still showing no remorse, and I feel the swell of emotion inside me crash and shatter against my heart.
“So fucking me—was that you hoping I would let something slip when you had your face buried between my thighs?” I snap before I have the good sense to stop myself. It’s bad enough that he played me like a pawn—I don’t want him to know how much it hurts as well.
“What the fuck?” Wilson finally decides to say something. And he has the audacity to look pissed off.
I throw him a dark look. “Two words, you asshole. Laura and others.”
He backs away, and I turn my sharp gaze back to Lev. Because right now, the pain Wilson caused me is nothing compared to the anger I am feeling toward Lev.
I struggle to control the emotion in my voice and the trembling of my hands. My chin quivers because, damn, I thought this man was something special, a secret one-night stand who made me feel desirable and special when I needed it the most.
But it turns out Lev Zarkov is something entirely different.
15
LEV
People are such predictable creatures. And my skillset of recognizing these predictabilities has served me well in corporate warfare, not to mention as pakhan. It’s easier to protect yourself when you can see the attack coming.
Take Wilson, for instance: I knew it would only be a matter of time before he would sneak back into town. He has too much here to leave behind for good.
And I was right. He crawled out of the hole he was hiding in and was spotted by one of my men at a diner in West Town earlier today. I knew he would try contacting Brooke tonight under the protection of darkness, so I flew back to Chicago and personally took over for the men watching her apartment. I wanted to be there when the mudak played his next card.
From the black Escalade parked down the street, I watched the feed sent to my phone courtesy of the concealed cameras I had one of my men install in and around her apartment while we were in New York fucking wildly until the early hours of the morning.
It was on this camera feed that I saw Wilson slip into the apartment tonight. Saw him creep toward her bedroom and stare at her sleeping in her bed for a concerning couple of minutes. My hand curled into a tight fist as I watched him watching her, waiting for him to give me another reason to put a bullet in his head. But he didn’t try anything with her. Instead, he closed her door, walked away, and began to tear apart the packed boxes of Brooke’s belongings in the living room.
The plan was to wait for him to leave the apartment before I apprehended him. But when I saw him tower over her and shove her up against the wall, I didn’t hesitate.
Now I have my gun aimed at him, and I have half a mind to cut both his hands off before I put the bullet in his head for putting his hands on Brooke. But as appealing as that idea is, I can’t very well do it in front of her. It will be too much for her.
Which makes this Wilson’s lucky day. He gets what no one else who has crossed me ever gets: a second chance.
“Let me tell you how this is going to play out,” I say. “You are going to retrieve the flash drive, and to ensure you do, I’m taking Brooke with me.”
Brooke’s big eyes widen, and she reminds me of the snow rabbits that dot the winter landscape of my family’s estate back in Russia. Big brown eyes. Sweet face. Innocent but astute.
She fixes those big eyes on me. “Excuse me?”
“Your fiancé has a week to get me the flash drive, and for insurance purposes, I’ll be keeping you with me.”