Total pages in book: 205
Estimated words: 204377 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 1022(@200wpm)___ 818(@250wpm)___ 681(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 204377 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 1022(@200wpm)___ 818(@250wpm)___ 681(@300wpm)
The first is covered. The second is a line I won’t cross. But I can satisfy the third.
If they want to be heard, I’ll listen. I’ll hear them. The good, the bad, and the ugly—I’ll absorb it all. Communication and sharing builds bonds and eventually garners trust.
It’s a place to start, anyway. A step I wasn’t willing to take with any of them before tonight.
I still fear them on an instinctual level. I’d be an idiot if I didn’t. But I’m more informed now. I now know that Denver controls them. Manipulates them through violence.
We have a common enemy, and that makes us allies.
I just need to convince them of that.
“Wolf?” I pause in the doorway, waiting for a response that never comes. “Good night.”
I slip into the hallway, unsure which I prefer. Flirty, carefree Wolf? Or dark, unresponsive Wolf? The latter is his truer self, and it scares me to think what would’ve damaged him so deeply.
At the top of the stairs, all is quiet. Kodiak probably lumbered off to the basement. Maybe Leonid went there, too.
There’s no way I can sleep. Not with my mind spinning with all this new input. I can’t even begin to process it.
I head downstairs and stop in the library to log today’s discoveries—human bones, kin punishment, Wolf’s saxophone, and the conversations I had with Leonid about his birthplace, his mother, Wolf’s mother, and his failed attempts to learn aviation.
That done, I walk through the cabin, looking for cameras. It’s not the first time I’ve done this.
My previous searches turned up nothing. But without Denver lurking around, I feel braver. I can look harder. There must be something here. He’s not a stranger to surveillance equipment, seeing how he wired every room in my house.
For the next hour, I dismantle outlets, take apart appliances, and turn over everything that’s not nailed down.
“You won’t find anything.”
I jump at the sound of Leonid’s voice and spin around, yanking my hand from behind the TV on the wall.
“What won’t I find?”
“Cameras.”
I examine his face, reluctant to trust anyone who looks that goddamn hot.
Don’t be absurd, Frankie.
“You have no reason to lie to me.” I sigh.
“That’s right. And Denver has no reason to spy on us.”
“What about his bedroom?”
“What about it?”
“Is it off-limits? Am I allowed in there?”
His expression darkens, turning thunderous.
What did I say?
He’s staring at me in that disarming way again like he can’t decide if he wants to kiss me or eat me.
Maybe he doesn’t like thinking about me in Denver’s bedroom? Can that be possible? Is this wack job jealous?
Jealous and unreasonably good-looking.
Standing just out of arm’s reach, with his unique eyes boring into me, he shouldn’t affect me like this. It’s wrong. The belly-warming flutter, the heat gathering lower, the urge to step closer. I shouldn’t feel any of this.
Looking at him should be forbidden because I can’t look without wanting.
I’m a happily married woman.
I’m a happily married woman.
I’m a happily married woman.
I’m a…
I was happy. Before Monty rejected our pregnancy. Before I was kidnapped. Before I was forced to survive in the Arctic with four predatory men.
You know what? Fuck it. There’s nothing wrong with cutting myself slack and taking a shameless moment of pleasure to admire one of the sexiest men alive.
Leonid is fucking built, his body carved to perfection, his muscles testing the seams of his clothes. Those jeans were made for him, so snug and low on his sculpted hips. It’s not fair.
He crosses his arms, voice low and gaze burning, watching me watch him. “Are you finished?”
Nope. Every nerve ending between my legs reacts to him, to the intoxicating dominance of a male in his prime. And the scent coming off him? Lord Jesus help me. His testosterone levels must be off the charts. The man smells like raging hunger and rough sex. It’s alarmingly addictive.
“What was I saying?” I blink up at him.
He makes a huffing sound somewhere between amusement and exasperation. “Denver’s bedroom.”
“Oh, right. I want to snoop.”
“Be my guest.” He motions down the hall.
“You won’t stop me?”
“Nah.” He follows me to the bedroom. “Looking for anything particular? I might be able to save you some time.”
“You’ve already done your own snooping?”
“Every time he leaves.”
Oh. I didn’t expect that.
“You’re sure there are no cameras?” I hover on the threshold, scanning the bedroom ceiling as my pulse goes haywire.
“I’m sure.”
“I was hoping to find a satellite phone or some way to communicate with the outside world.” I flick on the lights and take a hesitant step inside. “A man with this much wealth must have the ability to manage his wealth and, more importantly, grow it.”
“Denver isn’t a normal man.”
“You know a lot of normal men?”
His jaw flexes.
Yeah, I didn’t think so.
Pivoting in a circle, I scan the room. Large rustic furniture—bed, dresser, armchairs—occupies most of the space. I do a quick walk-through, peering at the en suite bathroom and closet.