Total pages in book: 187
Estimated words: 177397 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 887(@200wpm)___ 710(@250wpm)___ 591(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 177397 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 887(@200wpm)___ 710(@250wpm)___ 591(@300wpm)
After embracing me long enough for Mikhail to make a full recovery, Shevi inches back until we’re eye to eye. “I’m sorry we missed you at the fitting. Aleena…” Her pause gives my heart time to recover from the mention of my baby sister’s name. “Gosh. Not even those handful of times we managed to sneak out tainted how angelic she looked in her dress.” She bumps me with her hip. “The dress fitter didn’t even ask if she should consider an ivory gown instead of the pure white Dina demanded.” She rolls her eyes like I do anytime I mention my mother’s name. “Even though I despise her more than chicken strips with no ranch dressing, I couldn’t disagree with her decision. The dress she picked for Aleena is perfect. She is going to be the most beautiful bride.”
“Aleena is getting married?” The words shoot out of my mouth before I can stop them. I’m too shocked to play the cool cucumber I’m meant to be when associating with my little sister’s best friend.
“Yeah… ah…” Shevi’s sigh rustles the hair clinging to my neck. It isn’t hot. I just haven’t cooled down enough from my exchange with Andrik just yet. “I’m sorry. I assumed you knew. It’s new. Her fiancé is…”
I wait and wait and wait for her to continue.
It is a very long thirty seconds.
“He’s handsome,” she eventually settles on. “And rich. And—”
“Is she happy?” I interrupt, more concerned about Aleena’s well-being than a stranger I will most likely never meet.
Shevi’s eyes flick past me for the quickest second before she faintly nods. “Yes. She’s happy. Very happy.”
The weight of a mountain shifts off my shoulders, and tears prick my eyes. Those last two words are all I’ve ever wanted. They bring so much closure and make up for the horrible things I had to endure to achieve them.
“I’m sorry, Zoya, I have to go.” Shevi signals to a man at the end of the lot that she won’t be a minute before she gives my hand a gentle squeeze. “But we will talk more soon.” She smiles. It is full of hesitance. “We have a heap of wonderful events coming up, so I am sure we will bump into each other again.” After a final squeeze, she murmurs goodbye before hotfooting it to the dark-haired man waiting for her.
I’m so stunned by her confession that my sister is getting married that I don’t object to Mikhail butting shoulders with me to watch her exit. We stand in silence for several long minutes, the quiet only ending when a truck driver sounds his horn, requesting we move from the middle of the dusty lot so he can exit without running us over.
“Can I—”
“Nope,” I answer before Mikhail can finalize his question, walking away from him.
“He’ll—”
I silence him with an action this time instead of words. I hold the dirtbox he gifted me last month in the air before clicking the button.
I told myself I was being neurotic when I put it in my purse. Andrik hadn’t made a single effort to find me.
Now I realize it was the smartest thing I’ve done all month.
27
ANDRIK
“Go back.”
Konstantine scrubs at his tired eyes before doing as asked. We’ve been working nonstop for the past eight hours, attempting to infiltrate a system the world’s greatest hackers invented, so I shouldn’t be surprised that what should have been an easy task to end our day took a dramatic turn.
“There. Just before Mikhail ducks behind the pillar.”
I should have realized Zoya has too much gall for Mikhail to subdue.
There’s only one man capable of breaking her will.
It isn’t my little brother.
My chest stops expanding like a peacock’s feathers when Konstantine murmurs, “Holy fucking shit.”
He cleans up a portion of the footage Mikhail has been capturing since he commenced following Zoya home hours ago. The images are grainy because the dirtbox Zoya is utilizing as her own personal cloak of protection requires Mikhail to maintain a decent amount of distance. Finally.
“That’s—”
“Irina Ivanov,” I interrupt, my tone announcing my disbelief.
Irina is the mother of Maksim and Matvei Ivanov. Although she now goes by her maiden name, the surname cited on all her official government records is known across the globe. She is Bastian Fernandez’s first wife—heiress to one of the most notable Italian crime syndicates in the world.
Her ties to the bratva are limited, but with Matvei’s shrewd business skills having him in favor with many mafia families, and her eldest son’s business dealings across the globe reminding the federation that the bratva isn’t solely for Russian-born descendants, it is notable enough for my gut to declare caution when Konstantine cleans up the image enough to unearth who she is corresponding with.
Dr. Abdulov must have immediately returned to Myasnikov Private Hospital after our meeting today. The footage is timestamped only an hour after he left.