Total pages in book: 83
Estimated words: 79097 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 395(@200wpm)___ 316(@250wpm)___ 264(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 79097 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 395(@200wpm)___ 316(@250wpm)___ 264(@300wpm)
What. Just. Happened?
CHAPTER TEN
Lev
I wander the dimly hit halls.
I took a shower. Got something to eat. Tried to sleep but all I could think about was Isabella sleeping in the room down the hall from me.
But my mind’s racing with what happened today.
What happens next.
Marrying Isabella is a strategic move, but she’s way more than I anticipated.
I want her. All of her. The image of her coming beneath me is burned into my memory forever. I want her so fucking bad.
Everything about her haunts me. Her defiance, her spirit, her beauty.
As I pass the office with an attached library, I notice a faint light seeping under the closed door. Curious, I push it open gently and find Isabella sitting on one of the plush chairs, a book in her hands. She looks up, startled.
“Can’t sleep?” I ask, stepping into the room and closing it behind me.
She shrugs, as if trying to appear indifferent. “It’s lovely here, but it’s still a prison.”
I can’t help but smile at her. “So dramatic. I see you’ve made yourself at home.”
She’s wearing nothing but an oversized white tee and a pair of panties.
She shrugs a shoulder. “It’s a particular talent of mine.” Her gaze darkens and drops to my groin. “Did you make yourself comfortable?”
I grunt and don’t respond, which makes her laugh out loud. There aren’t enough showers in the world to eviscerate the need for her.
Her telling smile says everything. Little brat. “Your book collection is impressive.”
I walk over to the bar cart and pour myself a drink. “Drink?”
She doesn’t hesitate. “Whiskey, neat, please.”
“The books were here when I bought the house. I don’t touch them.”
Except when I do, but I can’t help wanting to hold back, to not tell her everything about me.
I hand her the glass and sit down opposite her. Our needs almost touch. We sit in silence for several minutes, the weight of what’s happening next hanging between us. Finally, I break the silence.
“You’re not what I expected,” I admit with a shrug, swirling the liquid in my glass.
She raises a brow. “Oh? What did you expect?”
“A scared girl. Someone who would either cower and beg for mercy, or someone who would come in with a chip on her shoulder and a thirst for blood.”
She tips her head to the side. “Aw. I’ve been too nice.”
I shake my head. “No, nice isn’t a word I’d use to describe you. But you’re a lot easier to get along with than I expected.”
She takes a sip of her drink thoughtfully before responding. “We have a common enemy, Lev.”
I take a sip myself. We do.
“And what about you? You know loads about me, and I know hardly anything about you. What did you have to become to survive in your world? You aren’t what I expected, either.”
That surprises me. For some reason, I hadn’t considered the fact that she’d have any expectations about me at all. “What did you expect?”
“I thought you were an awkward teen.”
I laugh out loud. “I was. Once upon a time.”
She gives me an appreciative grin. “Well, sir, I can say with confidence those days have passed.”
Mmm.
I lean back, studying her. “People in my world – our world – they don’t stay innocent.”
“No,” she says sadly. “You have to either die or become a monster yourself.”
Exactly.
“Yeah.”
We fall silent again, both of us lost in our thoughts.
“Marriage isn’t just a strategy.” I polish off my drink. “It’s a way to protect you.”
Her eyes flash. “I don’t need a man to protect me. I can take care of myself.”
Jesus. Here we go again. “But maybe you don’t have to. God, woman, we’re in this together now.”
She clenches her fists and turns away.
I push myself to my feet. Over the proverbial pillow talk. We’re getting married whether she likes it or not. I finish my drink and look over my shoulder.
“Get some sleep. Tomorrow, we’re heading to my family home.”
I swear as I leave. I hear her glass shatter into shards behind me.
CHAPTER ELEVEN
Isabella
I sit in this… prison. A well-decorated, very comfortable prison, yes, but it’s still a fucking prison.
The room in his family’s home is extravagant… from what I’ve seen, anyway. It’s impeccably clean, too. My mama would approve, though she never understood the American love of neutrals and whites. But even though this room is gorgeous, I still feel as if I’m caged.
I practically am.
He made sure to remind me of that before he left to go help with preparations or whatever, our earlier conversation forgotten.
All day, I’ve heard people coming and going outside my door. Lev’s men scurry about, making arrangements. He’s leaving nothing to chance, ensuring there’s no possible way for me to escape. I’ve tried the windows, the locks, even the ventilation ducts. He’s covered every possible escape. I met with his family, we discussed the wedding, then he brought me to this room.