Total pages in book: 91
Estimated words: 88153 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 441(@200wpm)___ 353(@250wpm)___ 294(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 88153 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 441(@200wpm)___ 353(@250wpm)___ 294(@300wpm)
I slow down as I get to the top of the staircase, and I see Vic. He’s one of my father’s security guards. He’s always nice to me, but I wonder if Vic secretly dislikes me because he always gets the duty of watching over me. That can’t be a job that a man like him wants.
My cheeks fill with heat, and I give him a sly smile, letting my gaze barely flutter on his face. I know it’s silly to be embarrassed, but I am anyway. Vic is what you would imagine when someone talks about a man being tall, dark, and handsome. He’s taller than my father, so he’s over six feet. He’s got hair the color of midnight and firm muscles… everywhere. I’m only fourteen, but I’m still a girl and I can appreciate his beauty.
“Ready, Miss Korslova?” he asks in his deep baritone voice.
“Why do you never call me Emilia?” I whisper.
“Because it wouldn’t be right. I work for you,” Vic answers.
“Then, I could order you to call me Emmie.”
“Emmie?” he says, and I can tell he wants to laugh but he doesn’t. My cheeks are burning from embarrassment. I can’t look at him as we walk down the stairs. His hand is on my back, and I enjoy it. He makes me feel… safe.
“That’s what my father calls me when we’re alone sometimes. I like it better than my full name,” I respond.
“I don’t think he’d like it if I called you that.”
“Why?” I don’t know why I’m questioning him about it. It could be because it’s distracting me from the fact that I’m about to go to another dinner party, surrounded either by people I don’t know or don’t like—maybe both.
“Because it’s his special name for you. If it wasn’t, he wouldn’t call you that in private,” Vic explains. “If he heard me call you that when I’m supposed to be protecting you, he would be mad.”
I frown, pursing my lips as I think about what he said. “Fine, then you can call me Emmie when we’re alone.”
“I don’t think that would be proper.”
“It doesn’t matter.”
“It doesn’t?” Vic’s tone is full of laughter, but I ignore it. I’m not joking about this. I need more friends. Zoe and my father are basically it. Adding Vic seems like a natural choice.
“Nope. I order you to do it and if you do it in private, my father doesn’t have to know. That way, he can’t get upset.”
“It would appear you have it all worked out.”
“I do.”
“Then, I will promise to use your name—”
“Really?” I ask, surprised that he’s giving in.
“I will only use it once in a while and only when we’re alone, though.”
“It’s a deal.” I don’t bother arguing. The way I see it, I’m winning here.
“There’s my daughter now,” I hear my father say. I lift my head, surprised we made it down the stairs so quickly. He is standing there with two other men. They both are younger than my father, but they aren’t smiling like him. They’re staring at me, and I feel like I’m bothering them. I immediately lower my gaze. For the millionth time tonight, I wish Zoe was with me.
CHAPTER 3
Niko
My gaze moves to the stairs as I watch the girl in the blue dress descend. She has long black hair that rests against her back in flowing waves. She looks over at her father and smiles, her cheeks turning pink as she takes in the rest of us. I notice she quietly reaches out to her bodyguard’s hand and squeezes tightly. I doubt she even realizes she’s doing it. Victorio leans down and whispers something to her and she smiles with a quiet laugh.
When you grow up in a state run home and see the shit life deals daily, you don’t see innocence. This girl? There’s an innocence about her, a kindness that hasn’t been killed out by the cruel reality of life.
“There’s my daughter. Emilia, sweetheart, come down here and let me introduce you,” Maxwell says. She pastes a smile on her face and perhaps she’s trying to appear natural, but I can tell it’s forced. It’s clear this isn’t what she’d like to be doing. I know nothing about young girls, but I imagine business dinners aren’t high up on the totem pole for them.
“Hello, Father,” she murmurs, her voice quiet but full of what I imagine is love and respect. I’m not familiar with the emotion, but it’s clear to tell she cares deeply for him. I watch as she steps closer to him, placing a kiss on his cheek. He wraps his arm around her back to rest on her shoulder, tucking her in closely to his side. I don’t quite understand how they interact with one another. It all seems so foreign to me. Does she not know what he does on a daily basis and how ruthless he can be? Is she aware of how much blood is on her father’s hands?