Total pages in book: 44
Estimated words: 41558 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 208(@200wpm)___ 166(@250wpm)___ 139(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 41558 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 208(@200wpm)___ 166(@250wpm)___ 139(@300wpm)
“You okay, hon?” Charlie asked, placing a hand over my fist.
“Yeah,” I lied hollowly.
Davis returned to our table and pulled me close for a reassuring hug. “Of course she’s not okay. That was total bullshit. After everything that’s happened, the last thing she needs is some asshole creeping on her.”
My fifth glass of pinot arrived, and I took a long draw of the rich wine.
“Come on, Allie,” Isabel cajoled. “We should go back to Davis’ place. It’s getting late, and we don’t need to drink anymore.”
“Yeah,” Davis agreed. “You’ll get all weepy. You want a buzz, not a crying session.”
“Maybe she needs to cry,” Charlie interjected. “You do whatever you want, Allie. We’re here for you.”
What I wanted was to be back in Max’s strong, supportive arms. I loved my friends, but they couldn’t know anything about what was happening in my life. Max knew. He understood.
But I couldn’t shake the horrific image of him handling that knife like it was the most natural thing in the world, how his movements had been fluid and vicious as he’d stabbed his cousins. He’d warned me so many times that he was capable of terrible things, but I’d seen the good in him. I hadn’t wanted to see the depth of his violent tendencies.
Now, I was forced to face reality. The man I loved was involved in organized crime, and he’d refused to forsake his family for me. I’d asked him why he was loyal to them, and every time he’d repeated the same twisted oath that they’d drilled into him: Sometimes love is hard, but blood is everything.
Today, he’d betrayed that blood; he’d killed his own cousin to save me. I still couldn’t fully wrap my mind around the horror of it. I was grateful that he’d protected me from them once again, but witnessing the violence was more than I could bear.
I needed space to think, to breathe. I couldn’t be objective when I was around Max; my love for him clouded my judgment.
And as much as I loved him, I knew that I couldn’t be with someone who was in the Mafia. My own father was in bed with the Bratva; I couldn’t live with a man who was part of another criminal organization, his life steeped in blood.
I didn’t want any of this, but I did want Max—the man who held me with tenderness and harsh passion, who would do anything for me.
He’d run into a fire to save me. He’d killed for me.
I groaned and dropped my head into my hands. It was all too much. My heart ached at his absence, but my stomach lurched at the memory of all the blood in his apartment. I didn’t think I could go back there. But I didn’t have a phone anymore—I’d lost it in the fire—and I had no way of contacting him to ask him to meet me somewhere else.
He’d been devastated when I’d left him. I hated the idea of his anguish, and I craved to heal the bloody rift between us.
I needed to stay away for a little while. I needed to be grounded by my best friends so I could think straight.
Charlie rubbed my back, and Isabel asked if I wanted to go to Davis’ place again.
I lifted my head from my hands and shook it, not ready to leave the warm comfort of the wine. I took a smaller sip this time, not wanting to worry them further.
“I don’t want to talk about it,” I said shakily. “Tell me about your audition. Please?” I begged Davis. I just wanted to pretend to be normal for a little while.
His eyes searched my face for a moment, then he blew out a sigh and plastered on a smile. He started to tell me about his triumphant audition and his hopes for a role in a new musical, and we acted like everything was okay.
For over an hour, I was mercifully distracted by my friends, surrounded by their love and support. I stopped gulping at my wine, allowing their warmth to imbue my chest instead. They were far more comforting than any alcohol.
Suddenly, Charlie stopped talking about the stresses of her internship mid-sentence. Her bright blue eyes widened, focusing on something over my shoulder.
I turned, and my stomach dropped. Niko was striding toward me, his stunning face set in hard planes. Mikhail Ivanov shadowed him, along with two burly men who must be the Russian’s bodyguards.
Fear fluttered in my belly, and all my muscles locked up tight.
I shouldn’t have left Max. He would protect me from these monsters if he were here. I’d thought I’d be safe with my friends, but my stomach dropped as Mikhail’s dark, cold eyes swept over them.
I’d put the people I loved in danger. We were in public, and I didn’t think the Ivanovs were reckless enough to hurt any of them outright; Mikhail was supposed to be a billionaire businessman, not the head of the Bratva in New York.