Total pages in book: 87
Estimated words: 83221 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 416(@200wpm)___ 333(@250wpm)___ 277(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 83221 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 416(@200wpm)___ 333(@250wpm)___ 277(@300wpm)
She quickly recovers. “Fortunately, we don’t have to worry about that anytime soon. We do need to talk about going back to America, though.”
Mikhail nods. “We do.”
Now that things have settled back in America, Mikhail’s been itching to get back home. I love it here in Russia, though. After the controversy and struggles we faced in New York, the comfort and warmth of his family home set deep in the heart of Moscow, built like a fortress to withstand the bitter cold, feels amazing.
It isn’t just the home, though, of course. Mikhail and I have our own floor here. The rest insisted. I was amazed at the sheer size of this place and half expected that anyone who grew up in a home like this would be absolutely spoiled, but that’s not how they did things here with the Romanov family. I don’t completely understand why they ever left Russia to begin with, but know it has something to do with his father burning bridges.
We don’t have a commute while we’re here and thankfully my nausea’s a distant memory, so we get to spend more time with each other. We revel in each other. Mikhail’s also different here in Russia, in his homeland. Maybe it’s because the threat against us has been put to rest and he can finally breathe a little more freely. Or maybe it’s because we’re in his homeland and he finds a bit of himself here. But Mikhail seems to be easing into his position as pakhan, as leader of the family. It’s a role he was born to fill.
I’m not on the run anymore. Mikhail and his brothers put a decided end to that, and thanks to Aleks’s prowess, Volkov and everyone he was working with are either dead or in jail. Aleks orchestrated a high-profile exposé, outing the names and crimes committed that both he and I found.
For the first time in a long time, I feel like I can breathe.
Mikhail has promoted me and while he hasn’t demoted Aleks, he’s given him another job as well. So now I feel like I’m not Aria Cunningham, Professor by Day and Hacker by Night anymore.
No.
I’m Aria Romanov, head cybersecurity expert, a pivotal member of the Romanov family business. Aria Romanov, wife to Mikhail, mama to our unborn child, sister to Polina and the Romanov brothers.
“Mikhail? Polina? Aria?” Ekaterina’s voice rings out.
“In here!” Polina responds around a mouthful of cookie.
Mikhail gently lays my foot down and stands, stretching. Here in Russia he doesn’t often wear the formal clothes he does in America. While I love the look of him all dressed up, I could get used to the tees and jeans. There’s something so damn sexy-casual about it. Who am I kidding? I love Mikhail in anything.
Ekaterina opens the two large doors to the living room, an uncharacteristic look of concern on her face. “Where is everyone?”
Mikhail looks up. “The short answer is, everyone’s working except Viktor and Nikko, who were lifting last I heard.” He sobers at the look on her face. “Everything alright?”
Ekaterina nods, but she’s rarely fazed by anything, so this isn’t super reassuring. “Call them, please.”
Mikhail snaps to attention. I pull out my phone and tap the security feed at the same time Polina stands tall and squares her shoulders. “What is it?”
“We have visitors. The guards at the front gate told me there are two of Volkov’s men asking for permission to enter.”
A muscle twitches in Mikhail’s jaw. He lifts his phone to call Viktor and Nikko. “Aria, what do you see?”
I pull up the names and profiles based on a quick facial recognition check. “Dmitri Petrov. Pavel Kuznetsov. Confirmed affiliation with Fyodor Volkov.”
Ekaterina watches us thoughtfully when the sound of heavy footsteps comes from the hallway. Viktor looms in the doorway, barring any light from coming in, Nikko close at his heels.
“Volkov’s men are at the gate. Bring them to me.” Mikhail nods to his mother. “You and Polina, leave us, please.”
“Mikhail…”
He looks up at his mother. “Yes?”
She cringes. “No blood on the carpet, son.”
The two of them leave. Mikhail curses.
“They’re nice carpets,” I say, more because I feel the need to back her up than because I know anything about the quality of carpet. He grunts in response.
Polina follows her mom and gives my hand a little squeeze on the way out, leaning in and whispering in my ear, “Tell me if either one of them are cute.”
My eyes widen in shock that she’d dare to go there, but it only makes her laugh out loud as she leaves.
“They can’t be here to attack. If they were, they wouldn’t have entered by the front gate, Mikhail.”
“Mm. I make it a rule not to assume until I have all the data. Get behind me.”
Heavy footsteps return but there’s no sound of a scuffle or bodies being dragged down the hallway.