Total pages in book: 79
Estimated words: 78264 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 391(@200wpm)___ 313(@250wpm)___ 261(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 78264 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 391(@200wpm)___ 313(@250wpm)___ 261(@300wpm)
My uncle takes one look at me, then lets out a chuckle. “I’m working on it.”
“Not fast enough,” I grumble, but there’s no menace in my tone. “Sartori and D’Angelo have zero fighting skills.”
Uncle Carson stands up from behind his desk and lets out a sigh. “That’s why they’re here.”
“They’re going to hold the other four back.” I shake my head. “The women need intensive one-on-one training. Stat.”
Uncle Carson looks at me, amusement all over his face. He loves the fact that the women are annoying the fuck out of me. “Pair two of the fourth-year attendees with them so you can keep focusing on the other four.”
“Sir,” one of the guards says to get our attention. “There’s an altercation in the armory. The bratva and the yakuza.”
“Just what I fucking need,” I mutter as I stalk to the door. Leaving the office, I call out, “Get the replacement before I kill all the attendees.”
Chapter 4
Abbie
After cleaning up Aurora’s face and spending the entire afternoon groveling because I put her in a position where she got hurt, I return to my own suite to deal with the emotions raging in my chest.
Grabbing my phone from where it was lying next to the bed, I dial my father’s number.
“Yes, Abbie,” he answers impatiently.
I’m used to his abrupt tone that rolls off me like water off a duck’s back.
“Aurora got beaten up badly today,” I inform him, my voice tight from the anger. “They just threw us in the deep end with training. It’s insane!”
I hear my father let out a deep breath, then he mutters, “That’s why you’re at St. Monarch’s. You can’t protect yourself and know nothing about the mafia. It’s time you learn.”
Goosebumps spread over my body. “Did you know?”
“What?”
“That the training would be violent.” I fist my free hand at my side as I walk to the massive windows and stare at the garden below as darkness starts to fall. “Did you know we’d be put in positions where we’d get hurt?”
I hear a chair creak, and it sounds like he’s standing up. “It’s time for you to grow up. You have to train hard, Abbie. I can’t have a weakling take over the business. Don’t let me down.”
I close my eyes and nod. Unable to say another word to my father, I lower the device from my ear and end the call.
He knew. He sent me here with no training or warning about how brutal everything would be.
I’m not surprised, though.
Still, it hurts.
Opening my eyes, I lift my chin while sucking in a deep breath of air.
Even though I grew up living the life of a princess, I knew my father was a criminal and that everything I was given was bought with bloodstained money.
But I never thought I’d have to get involved in the business. At worst, I expected to be pawned off in an arranged marriage. That’s until my father told me he expected me to take over the business, which was the end of the discussion.
But fighting…actual hand-to-hand combat against men? How am I supposed to do that? Throwing punches? Kicking?
Jesus.
I turn away from the window and glance around the luxurious suite that’s bathed in fine art and modern furniture.
This is not the vacation I thought Aurora and I would enjoy.
Our parents sent us into the heart of the enemy with no protection. The only thing we have counting in our favor is that there’s no killing allowed on St. Monarch’s grounds.
I nod as the realization hits.
Aurora and I are on our own here. We have to learn how to protect ourselves. We have no choice.
Instead of taking a bath and drowning my sorrows in comfort food, I walk to the door and yank it open. The sound of it slamming shut behind me echoes down the hallway as I head toward the grand staircase.
With every step, my anger doubles. My father threw me to the wolves, Nikolai sees me as a spoiled socialite, and the bratva is breathing down our necks.
In front of me is the dining hall, where most of the guests are enjoying dinner. Not in the mood to eat, I turn right into another hallway and head toward the armory.
Fine. If I’m thrown into the bowels of the criminal world, I’m going to learn everything as fast as I can.
I’ll become so freaking badass that I can beat any of the men here.
I’m going to show Nikolai Vetrov he messed with the wrong girl.
Stalking into the armory, I head straight for the display case of weapons. I look at the wide variety of guns, and for a moment, I feel lost because I don’t know which one to pick.
“Have you booked a training session?” a man asks. I’d guess him to be in his late fifties, and he has a professional air around him as if he’s selling tailored suits instead of teaching people how to kill.