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)
“No. I’ve tried to stay away.”
He scoffs like he doesn’t believe me. For some reason, it hurts as much as it did when my mother didn’t believe a single thing I told her.
“You came to his hometown. His hotel. Had sex in the elevator of his building and let him have his way with you in the driveway of his country estate before doing god knows what at his club. But I’m meant to believe you’re not throwing yourself at him?” He doesn’t wait for me to answer him. “How many times has he been here ...”—he screws up his nose like my name leaves a bad taste in his mouth—“Zoya, right?”
My timid head bob makes me feel naked, because although he asks for my name, he refuses to use it.
“How many times has he been here?”
“Your son—”
I learn who Andrik gets his bossiness from when Ellis shouts, “How. Many!”
Just like Vlad, Andrik doesn’t deserve my loyalty, but I still give it to him. “None. He hasn’t been here at all.” My voice is just as loud, my anger just as apparent. I hate lying when I’m unsure if the person I am being deceitful for deserves the intervention, and Andrik’s motives have me unsure which side of the fence I should be on.
“So that entails that you’re the issue, not him.” Ellis glares me up and down like I’m dog poo his shoe picked up at the park. “So you also need to be the solution.”
“Andrik—”
“Will never get divorced, leave his wife for you, or save you from this.” He waves his hand around my apartment. “You are a gimmick. A sex toy with a pulse. You’re the whore keeping his sheets warm while—”
I slap the words from his mouth.
He reacts opposite to Andrik when struck. His face reddens with anger as his teeth grit. But I am the only one left gasping for air when he asks, “How much will it take for you to walk away from my son and never look back?”
“I don’t want your money.”
He acts as if I never spoke. “I can organize transfers to another country, new passable IDs, and grant you access to resources you’ve never had in your life.” He bobs down low before whispering in a chilling tone, “I can free you from your cage, little bird. I can set you free.”
“I’m already free,” I snarl, my tone as deadly as his glare, my anger just as rife. “So get the fuck out of my house before I steal more than just the devotion of your little minions.”
Ellis returns my glare for several heart-thumping seconds before he straightens his spine, pulls a business card out of the breast pocket of his suit jacket, and then stuffs it into the beak of the dusty duck Mikhail pointed out weeks ago.
“My offer expires in seven days.” He heads for the door while grumbling under his breath. “The next one won’t be issued to you. It will be for you.”
37
ANDRIK
“Are you mad?” Zakhar wiggles his tongue around his mouth, wetting it for the long Q-tip a doctor is about to scrape along the inside of his cheek, before he returns his focus to me. “You seem mad. Did I do something wrong?”
“No,” I reply, my tone curt and brutish.
When he arches a brow and purses his lips, I mutter a cussword under my breath.
In my anger, I forgot how receptive he is to liars. He can spot a deceitful man from a mile out. I’ve used his skills to my advantage more than once in the past month and hope to be able to do the same for many years to come.
After attempting to slacken the tightness of my jaw and failing, I say, “I’m not mad at you, Zak. You’re not the issue.”
Since my reply is honest this time, he believes me. “I’m glad you’re not mad at me, but you shouldn’t be mad at anyone.” He continues swishing his tongue when his words come out huskily. “Mommy says life is too short to be angry.” His eyes water when he peers down at the cords taped to his tiny chest. “I guess she was right. I’m not surprised. Mommy is always right. She is very smart.”
When he tilts his head back as per the doctor’s instructions, causing the wetness in his eyes to trickle past his ears, I hate myself more than I ever thought possible.
He is wired up to the hilt with monitors, and on more medication than men twenty times his age, yet I’m more concerned about getting his DNA verified than finding a solution to the predicament I placed him in when I tipped off the Ivanovs about Irina’s organs being sold.
Dr. Abdulov and Dr. Azores won’t be able to give Zakhar a new heart because they’ll be dead by the end of the week, possibly sooner if Matvei passes on the information I gave him to his eldest brother before he arrives in Russia.