Total pages in book: 163
Estimated words: 157491 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 787(@200wpm)___ 630(@250wpm)___ 525(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 157491 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 787(@200wpm)___ 630(@250wpm)___ 525(@300wpm)
“I’m not supposed to speak the truth? You’re not married now.”
“You were right to stay away, to stay out of my life.”
“I couldn’t stand to see you happy without me and I didn’t want to hurt you any more than I already had.” Any more than I’d had to. “I’m so sorry, Isla. But I was curious. I wondered who this man was, the man you chose after me. Alexander warned me I should expect a call, that Tom had mentioned my name.
“No doubt after trying to borrow money from him.”
“I invited him to London. I wasn’t about to pass up the chance to feed my curiosity.”
I found she’d settled so cheaply, but she never did understand her own worth.
“But we were already separated,” she says, her brow furrowing.
“I know.” I shrug lightly, as though the motion is the answer to an unspoken question. “Curiosity is curiosity.” I’m relieved when she doesn’t press me because I was not impressed. “This meeting today.” My turn to redirect the conversation. “What was his name, the person you met with? Did he say?”
“He was Russian,” she says carefully.
“Is that what brought you here? Because he was Russian?”
She shakes her head. “I had nowhere else to go. No one else to turn to.”
“Not to your brother?” Again, she shakes her head, this time keeping her gaze from me. “Milaya, he’s not here, whoever he is. He can’t hurt you.”
“I feel terrible for involving you, but—”
“You did the right thing.” Cutting off her reply, I take her hands in mine.
“He said his name was Anatoli Aslanov and he was … was not a nice man.”
It’s not only the name that takes me by surprise, that makes my hands tighten on hers. “What does that mean, exactly? Did this man threaten you?” Blood halts in my veins. Halts. Thins. Freezes. I can see Aslanov’s face, laughing with his crew. I can also see how it will look next time I see him when he will not be so happy.
“Have you heard of him?” she asks. “You look worried.”
Try irate, my darling. “Did he touch you?”
“What?” She pulls her hands back to her lap.
“Did he touch you?” My gaze roams over her as though I could discern the answer before she gives it.
“No. It was bad enough the way he looked at me,” she adds, cuffing her left wrist with the fingers of her right hand.
There. He touched her there.
“The way he looked at you,” I repeat, keeping my tone even, keeping the roar of my anger to myself. “What do you mean?”
“It’s hard to explain,” she says, again avoiding my gaze.
Something settles in my stomach hard and sharp, like a shard of glass, but the sensation has nothing on the pain I’ll inflict on him. For touching what already feels like mine, I’ll tear off his fingers one by one.
“Let me understand this.” A pulse thunders in my temple as blood blazes through my veins. “You went to meet with a Russian criminal after your ex-husband told you his life was in danger?”
“Yes, but I didn’t go for him.” Her answer is as sharp as her gaze.
“It seems a lot of trouble to go to for someone you don’t love. You were married for a long time. It would be entirely normal to still have feelings for him.” The words feel like thorns in my throat, despite my even tone.
“I never—” She stops, her dark blue eyes flashing angrily. “The only reason I married him—” Again, she stops herself. But I will have the truth, even if just for my own ego. “For your information, the only torch I have for Tom is the one I’d singe him with.” Her back now ramrod straight, she runs her fingers under her eyes and delicately wipes the back of her hand under her nose, her next words delivered staccato and a matter of fact. “He told me they had photos of our children. Said they were in danger. That’s why I went. And now I see that he was telling the truth because they sent photographs of Holland and the boys to me—photos from this morning.”
“So you went by yourself to meet a maniac.” I stand by my description, as out of the two of us, I know the man. “Without telling anyone.” My heart begins to pump, blood rushing through my veins, throbbing at my temples. “I can’t believe you’d be so reckless.” I press my hands to her face. “That you’d put yourself to such risk.” Images begin to flash in my head, the kind that would make me scorch the earth for her.
“I wasn’t exactly left a choice,” she utters as she tries to twist away. She probably thinks she’s right. So stubborn and so fucking independent.
“You had choices. You could’ve turned to your brother. You could’ve come to me before meeting him. Why would you think you had to do this on your own?”