Total pages in book: 79
Estimated words: 75209 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 376(@200wpm)___ 301(@250wpm)___ 251(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 75209 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 376(@200wpm)___ 301(@250wpm)___ 251(@300wpm)
“In honor of today, we’ll take this weekend fully off,” Morozov suggests at the end of the meal. “You’ve all worked so hard, some of you even getting a run in before the sun rises.”
His eyes twinkle at us.
Vera looks at him in surprise. “You’ve seen us?”
“Oh, yes,” he says with a wink. “An old man misses nothing.”
“You two are dedicated,” Sophia says. “I crash at night and don’t even think of moving until it’s practically time for our next clinical.”
“Aye,” Liam says. “The days are long and taxing. I’m thankful for a weekend off.”
“As am I,” Irina says. “I actually have to step off campus for a bit to attend a benefit this weekend.”
Vera is shit at masking her facial expressions. She looks absolutely terrified.
“Do you?” I ask, reaching for the bottle of wine to refill our glasses. “We do, too, with Vera’s family. Which will you be attending?”
“Oh, I don’t remember the name,” she says, shaking her head. “Someplace near Ostankinsky District. . .”
I breathe out a sigh of relief and give Vera’s leg a reassuring squeeze under the table and a shake of my head. The Ostankinksy District is in the northernmost part of Moscow, nowhere near where we’ll be going.
“Will you two need us to arrange transportation?” Morozov asks.
I shake my head. “Thank you, no. I’ve already done so.”
Irina smiles. “I think going forward, our students might benefit from having supportive partners with them, don’t you think?” she asks Morozov. “It’s such an added bonus.”
They all laugh as dessert comes out, but I’m not comforted by any of this.
Today, our necks were bared to our enemy.
I have a job to do. A mission to complete. But I can’t allow Vera to be hurt on the sidelines.
My time has come.
CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE
Vera
The next few days pass without incident. Though we’re only at the very beginning stages of what we’ve discovered, it’s monumental.
I have to admit that’s all in the periphery of my focus, though. I came here to focus on my studies, but the prevailing concerns about me and Markov have taken precedence.
“You look troubled.”
It’s Friday night, the day before the benefit, and Markov is kneeling beside me, doing what’s become routine for us: braiding my hair. He does it every night before bed. I’m loathe to admit that I don’t actually need him to braid my hair. It doesn’t tangle much when I sleep and is easy to fix in the morning. What I need, though, is the feel of his strong, masculine fingers on my scalp. The slight tug when he gives it an inevitable tweak.
I won’t lie. . . I’m nervous as hell about tomorrow.
“You’re as skittish as a little kitten, Vera,” Markov says, bending to kiss my shoulder before tweaking my braid. My God, I love all of it. The intimacy of this moment, the warm feel of his mouth on my bare skin. The solid wall of his presence behind me. The way my name sounds on his lips. “Tell me what’s going on.”
“Oh, you know,” I say with a sigh. “The benefit and all. I’m just nervous about my father. Even if you and I didn’t have this. . . going on between us. . . I’d still be nervous.”
Markov turns me around to face him and frames my face with his hands.
This. This is what I love.
My eyes water as I peer into his intense gaze and see a well of love he hasn’t even yet voiced to me.
“Vera Ivanova,” he says earnestly. “You said it yourself that this will work out. We have to take this one step at a time. For now, you need rest.” When he bends and kisses me, I can almost believe it will be as simple as that—trust, love, and a kiss that makes it all better.
With a sigh, I crawl into bed. “That’s right, baby girl,” he whispers in my ear as he spoons me from behind. His warm body wraps around mine. “Put your mind to rest and get some sleep.”
But I can’t. Soon, Markov is breathing more deeply behind me while my mind spins and spins. I can’t get my fears out of my mind.
I make a decision. I push out of bed and walk over to where my phone is plugged in. I look over and Markov is still asleep.
I call Mom.
“Vera! How are you, darling?”
“I’m good, Mom. A little nervous about that stupid benefit, but it will be fine. There’s. . .” my heart beats so quickly that I’m a little shaky, “something I have to ask you.”
“Mmm? What is it?”
I draw in a breath and let it out slowly, gathering my courage. “Do you love Dad anymore?”
There’s silence on the other end of the line before she answers. “What makes you ask, Vera?”
“I—I just need to know. Please,” I whisper.