Total pages in book: 127
Estimated words: 120955 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 605(@200wpm)___ 484(@250wpm)___ 403(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 120955 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 605(@200wpm)___ 484(@250wpm)___ 403(@300wpm)
Taking the seat at the head of the table, he says, “I thought it best to give you a little time to cool down.”
I’m far from having cooled down, especially after discovering just how much of my freedom he’s taken away. It seems stealing my choices wasn’t enough. When he takes my hand and lifts it to his lips, I try to free myself, but he tightens his grip and presses a kiss on my knuckles. The moment he lets go, I pull my hand away.
The set of his mouth turns strained. “It looks like time didn’t do the trick.”
Ignoring him, I finish serving myself a helping of the salad.
“What do you need, Katerina?” he asks, a bite to his tone. “How much time is it going to take?”
I pick up my fork. “How about giving me the truth?” For example, where has he been all afternoon?
He watches me with unwavering attention. “I gave you the truth. Someone stole your card, and I will find out who. Until then, I’m keeping you where it’s safe.” His tone hardens with resolve. “Here.”
I clench my fingers around the fork. “As your prisoner.”
His voice remains level, but the minute tightening of his eyes betrays his impatience. “As someone I’m doing my damnedest to protect. That’s not going to change until I catch the perpetrator, so get used to the way things are. Asking my staff for a phone and trying to call home isn’t going to work.”
Stabbing a piece of potato with my fork, I glare at him. It’s good to know his telephone operator and guards report back to him. At least I know who’s on my side. No one, it seems.
A sensual aroma of cardamom and spices drifts to me as he reaches over the table and loads some of the pasta onto his plate. He showered. The smell stirs memories of happier times. I push them away, not wanting to remember him as a kind and skillful lover. The Alex who’s serving me small portions of every dish on the table isn’t the man who shared starters and kisses with me in Romanoff’s. He’s the man who brought me to Russia and locked me up in his house.
“Try the oliv’ye,” he says, serving us wine. “It’s my personal favorite.”
My appetite for the food is gone. I take a big gulp of the red wine while he watches me with hooded eyes as he brings a forkful of pasta to his mouth.
After chewing, he says, “Don’t be obstinate, Katyusha. It’s not going to help. The sooner you accept the situation, the easier this will be for you.”
I’ve already come to the same conclusion, but having my choices taken away isn’t something I’ll easily accept. Carefully, I ask, “Have you considered that you may be overreacting a bit?”
“Not where you’re concerned.”
“You’re locking me in and denying me the use of a phone. What am I going to do? Run away in a strange city where I can’t speak the language or call the police? I’m not stupid or naïve.”
“I’m not taking any chances.”
The jab hurts. He doesn’t trust me either. “You could’ve protected me just as well in New York.”
“You’re wrong.” He pulls the salt closer and adds a generous amount to his food. “I can’t protect you if you’re on the street or in a hospital with thousands of people passing you on a daily basis.”
I lean back in my chair, digesting that information. What about him and the thousands of people who pass him on the streets? What if someone shoots at him again? What if, this time, the sniper doesn’t miss?
“Katyusha?” He takes my hand and rubs a thumb over my knuckles. “Are you unwell? You’re very pale. Didn’t you rest enough?”
The fear is crippling. “How long is this going to take? To track down the person who wants you dead?”
“I’m doing everything in my power to find the son of a bitch.”
I swallow. “Do you at least have an idea of who it could be?”
“A business rival, maybe.” His brow furrows as he lets go of my hand to draw his fingers through his hair. “I don’t have any concrete leads for now.”
“In other words, we could be here for months.”
His jaw bunches. “As long as it takes.”
The words rush from my lips. “Don’t go out there. If you have a telephone operator, you must have a security chief or someone who can find out who’s trying to kill you.”
“Hey.” He leans over and grips my shoulder. “Slow down. I know how to take care of myself. Don’t worry about this. That’s my job.”
Easier said than done. I care about him. My feelings aren’t going to vanish just because he brought me against my will to Russia. I’ve fallen for him, and now it’s too late to protect my heart. If anything should happen to him—