Total pages in book: 49
Estimated words: 48709 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 244(@200wpm)___ 195(@250wpm)___ 162(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 48709 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 244(@200wpm)___ 195(@250wpm)___ 162(@300wpm)
But he thinks of me now.
“Is this soundproofed?” Uncle Nick knocks against the barrier. “Hello?”
A voice comes over the intercom, “Yes, sir?”
“Is this thing, can you hear me through it? The screen?” Nick is speaking through gritted teeth, suddenly seeming really pissed off. “Did you hear anything we just said?”
“No, sir. I can’t hear your voices. You have to press a button for that.”
“Then how are you talking now?”
“There’s a light, sir. It will display every time I push the intercom button. I only pressed it because I felt the knocking.”
Nick looks at the green light above the screen, grinding his teeth.
“How do you back up?” Nick snaps.
I sigh, sitting back in my chair. There’s nothing I can do when he gets worked up like this. It’s not his fault. He’s bloody and battered, and now he thinks he’s been caught gossiping about Damien. He’s already uncomfortable putting his safety in the hands of the Bratva, but he doesn’t have another choice.
“There are cameras, sir,” he says. “It’s completely safe, I promise you.”
“All right. Fine.”
“He’s telling the truth,” I say softly.
“How do you know?” Uncle Nick asks, with genuine curiosity in his voice, his anger deflating as quickly as it blew up.
“Damien told me.”
Uncle Nick narrows his eyes. “So you believed him.”
“You seemed okay with him back there.”
“He’s the leader of the Bratva,” Uncle Nick says stubbornly. “I’m not going to share every little thought in my head with him, am I?”
“So you do blame him for what happened.”
I can’t keep the note of accusation out of my voice.
The kiss keeps returning to me, the near kiss, and I swear that my tattoo freaking pulses against my wrist each time. It’s like he can heal it with one kiss, some silly fairytale about princesses and frogs.
“Not completely,” Nick says. “But he was right. He could’ve done more.”
“You said there’s always more a person can do, didn’t you? Or something like that?”
“Yes, Liliana,” he says tightly. “But he’s….”
“The boss of the Brava, I get it. But you say that like he’s Gabriel, like he’d hurt you for voicing your opinion. He wouldn’t.”
I fold my arms, looking out the window as the car crosses over the bridge, stunned by how regular all this feels. Or maybe it’s delayed shock.
I can’t face the full force of what’s happening, or I’ll explode.
“Are you judging me for not telling the boss of a massive criminal organization to go fuck himself?” Uncle Nick says.
“I’m not judging you. I’m looking out the window.”
“Fine. Then I’ll look out my window.”
“Fine.”
We sit in surly silence for a little while. Guilt gnaws at me, telling me I have no right to act this way after what we did. Damien and me, the man Uncle Nick apparently hates, despite what he said to his face.
He’s the Bratva boss.
He’s so much more than that to me.
Each time I remember his words, calling me beautiful, telling me I never have to be self-conscious – when the heat of his breath and his body, the near kiss returns to me – I get so warm inside, like I’m glowing.
Like I’m already bursting with his baby.
I slow down the flow of my thoughts, turning to Uncle Nick.
“I don’t want to apologize for things when I haven’t done anything wrong,” I say, thinking of my Damien. “But I’m sorry, Uncle Nick. I’m sorry any of this is happening. I’m sorry we have to run away and hide. I’m sorry you’re hurt, so, so sorry for that….”
“It’s okay, Liliana.”
He reaches over, touching my hand as a sob makes my voice crack.
“It’s not your fault. I made a stupid mistake.”
“You were just trying to help.”
“Yeah, and I failed. And I could’ve been killed for it.”
“I love you, Uncle Nick,” I say, giving his hand a squeeze.
“I love you too.” He smiles. “Don’t worry, Liliana. I won’t let anything happen to you.”
For the first time in my life, Uncle Nick doesn’t seem like the grownup anymore.
Maybe it’s his injuries or how touching his statement is, saying nothing will happen to me when something awful has already happened to him.
We share a smile, then sit back, watching the world drift by as we drive toward the safe house.
It’s late. Or early.
I’ve got the curtains open to let in the starlight and the moonlight since I can’t sleep anyway.
My belly grumbles, and I think about the kitchen, both the food and the room itself – the branded cutting knives, the appliances, the smooth surfaces, the gleam of it all. It’s like heaven.
Alone, I could lose myself in making a dish, and eat it by the window quickly with my back turned to the door. Then Damien wouldn’t catch me.
But no, no.
He called me beautiful. He said I never have to be self-conscious around him.
So where the heck is he?
Since returning to the safe house, I’ve been with Uncle Nick, briefly sitting in the living room. Then here, in bed, wondering where Damien went.