Total pages in book: 58
Estimated words: 53693 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 268(@200wpm)___ 215(@250wpm)___ 179(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 53693 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 268(@200wpm)___ 215(@250wpm)___ 179(@300wpm)
Who is this man? A bodyguard? One of Ivan’s cronies? I don’t know this man, and now I’m seeing him with different eyes. He must be as dangerous as my father, if not more so. I’ve never seen Papa negotiate with anyone and lose. Ivan Sidorov has serious power and sway if Papa was willing to give me up so easily.
I slide inside the limousine, overwhelmed and furious. My life feels like it’s at an end. Yet, I can’t help but remember the way this man touched me, the way he tasted. As the shock slowly starts to wear off, it’s replaced by lust and morbid curiosity.
He tries to make conversation with me, but I shut him down, leaving him as much in the dark as I’ve been for my entire life. He doesn’t get to have any insight into my mind. He can sit on his side of the limo and squirm, driving himself crazy wondering what I’m thinking.
He’s imploded my entire life, for better or for worse. Isn’t that ironic? He was right, I didn’t want to marry Niko. All I saw in front of me was a life of misery and submissiveness. That’s not who I am and it isn’t who I want to be.
What does Ivan expect of me, though? What’s the price I have to pay for him rescuing me from a life I didn’t want? Maybe this was all a ploy to get me in his bed, but I can think of a million better ways he could have done that. For one, he could have just asked.
“That was quite the scene.” He chuckles, and I could hit him.
Instead, I give him the silent treatment. I don’t owe him any explanation because he sure as hell didn’t give me one.
“What did Dimitri mean about school?” he asks curiously, and he sounds so genuine that I almost want to tell him.
It wouldn’t do any good, though. I doubt a man like Ivan cares whether or not I get an education. It’s probably the bottom of his priorities. Now the only question is what becomes of me. He asked me to run away with him, but I didn’t agree. I’m basically his captive now, with no other options.
I assume we’ll go back to his home, but then what? The future looms in front of me like a terrifying blank space. An hour ago, I knew what the future held. It was miserable, but at least it was comprehensive.
I was going to marry Niko and go live with him in a brownstone in Brooklyn. My parents bought it for us as a wedding gift. He’s been living there for months already, enjoying what now essentially feels like a dowry. I wonder darkly if the house was payment for him marrying me. Though, it’s possible he was as much of a pawn in this game as I was.
It’s hard to feel sorry for Niko, though. I’ve known him my whole life, and I learned at a young age what kind of person he is. My childhood crush on him turned to heartbreak when I realized he loved to manipulate women and gaslight them. I chose to ignore this when he was going to be my husband. I told myself I was too strong to be treated that way.
It wouldn’t have mattered, though. I would have been a miserable wife, bound to a man who repulsed me. But I knew what the future held.
I’m sure his mother and my mother had already started talking about how many children we would have had. Even though I was in school, I would have been expected to pop out a son almost immediately. That was the way of things.
And then I would become exactly like my mother. I’d get a degree, but it would sit on a shelf somewhere in the house collecting dust. If I had a daughter, I’d probably spend my life teaching her that ambition is pointless, and dreams are just that. It would have been a miserable experience.
Was this better, though? The pulsing in my chest told me it was different. There was a chance my life wouldn’t turn out the way I’d been dreading. I had to be strong now. Whatever came next, I had to keep up my spirits and be ready for anything.
I curse the way my body reacts to this idea. I’m in the back of a limousine in a humongous wedding dress with a man who isn’t my husband. He’s basically a stranger, and my body is desperate to screw his brains out.
That isn’t fair. The thought of him should repulse me as much as Niko did. I should be so angry with him that the idea of him touching me makes me want to scream. It does, but not out of anger. My skin is hot to the touch, desperate to be set free from this prison of fabric. Despite the way my thoughts are swirling, my body needs him to finish what he started.