Total pages in book: 123
Estimated words: 119597 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 598(@200wpm)___ 478(@250wpm)___ 399(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 119597 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 598(@200wpm)___ 478(@250wpm)___ 399(@300wpm)
I’m haunted by the ghost of the woman who left me.
So while the tantalizing prospect of fucking Sirena over this railing whispers seductively in my mind, I know that to give in would be to betray the one person who truly holds my heart.
I already betrayed her once, and the guilt festers like an incurable STD.
“I know you have a lot on your mind.” She leans into my side, her breath warm against my neck. “I can make you forget everything but the present moment.”
“As tempting as that may be…” With a tight smile, I step back, yanking away from her touch. “My heart belongs to my wife.”
“I know.” Her expression softens, a flicker of understanding in her eyes. “But you are…” She looks me up and down and sighs. “Fucking gorgeous. A girl can dream, can’t she?”
“She can.” I turn back to the maps on the credenza behind me. “We’re here to find Frankie. She’s the only dream I want.”
“Right. Of course.” She straightens, blinks, and assumes the role she came here to do, joining me to peer at the maps. “It would help if you told me why we’re headed to this particular island.”
I’m not accustomed to explaining myself. With more money than God, I get what I want, when I want it.
But this…this will require a little transparency. And a lot of delicacy.
I pace the deck, my footsteps echoing with the words I haven’t spoken in years.
“My father, an oligarch whose wealth and power knew no bounds, presided over the largest construction company in the Pacific Northwest.”
“An oligarch?” She arches a stenciled brow. “Like from Russia?”
“Yes. I was born there. My parents moved to Alaska when I was a baby.”
What I won’t tell her is that my mother was pregnant with my brother, and the construction company was just a facade for the obscene billions of dollars my family hid away in offshore accounts, every cent tainted by corruption and deceit.
My family’s history is littered with secrets too dark to bear.
“Why did they leave Russia?” She leans a hip against the credenza.
“Business conflicts.”
They feared for their lives. My parents often whispered about threats from criminal organizations, political rivals, and powerful government entities. My father, Rurik Strakh, was embroiled in legal disputes and perceived as a tyrant in Russia. No doubt he earned that claim. He didn’t play by the rules. He was ruthless, lawless, and power-hungry.
“My parents died in a plane crash.”
She grimaces. “I’m sorry.”
“It was many years ago.”
By then, I had already cut ties with them, shedding my given name like a snake shedding its skin. My brother’s death caused the rift between my parents and me. I needed to be free of them, determined to forge a new path, with a new name, to build my own legacy disconnected from the contamination of theirs.
For years, I buried the memories of my parents and brother. I kept my secrets hidden from everyone, even my most trusted confidants.
Even my wife.
I went as far as implementing a prenuptial agreement, so the poison of my inheritance couldn’t touch her.
But now, faced with the possibility of never seeing her again, I find myself confronting the skeletons of my past.
Has she uncovered my family’s crimes? Did I whisper gruesome secrets in my sleep? Leave a confidential document or email unguarded? Reveal something during our conversations?
If she somehow learned where I grew up and what I buried there, she may have felt compelled to check it out, to see it with her own eyes.
It’s a long shot, I know, but desperation has a way of sharpening one’s instincts, and I can’t shake the feeling that there’s more to her disappearance.
So I set a course for Kodiak Island, the yacht slicing through the waves with steadfast purpose. If I want Sirena’s help, I need to give her a valid reason for this detour.
Pausing at the railing, I return my attention to the woman whose eyes cling to mine with persistent longing.
Temptation.
I steel myself against it, the siren song of her lust, and focus on the only thing worth fighting for. Until Frankie is back in my arms, I’ll endure the torment of loneliness.
“I inherited my family’s construction company and my childhood home on Kodiak Island. I failed to mention its existence to Frankie, but maybe she discovered it. No one lives at the estate. A few times a year, I send people to tend to it, but it’s otherwise abandoned.”
It’s the priciest property in the 49th state, sitting atop a scenic cliff overlooking Settlers Cove. It’s so big and tucked away that my private island in Sitka could fit in one of its inlets. With private beaches, rugged coastlines, pristine acreage, and spectacular ocean views, it would be easy to hide there.
Exactly why my parents chose that location.
I could send a search party, but I know that island like the back of my hand. An island fraught with depraved memories, a reminder of the life I left behind when I severed ties with my family.