Total pages in book: 60
Estimated words: 56572 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 283(@200wpm)___ 226(@250wpm)___ 189(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 56572 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 283(@200wpm)___ 226(@250wpm)___ 189(@300wpm)
“That will not happen.”
Mikhail grabs my hips, clearly meaning to pull me closer to him, but with a secret lurking between us and the threat hanging over my brother, I can’t let myself get too close to him. Instincts deep inside me scream to be closer, to melt the space between us, but the guilt is too fierce. Suspicion buzzes through me.
“Maybe we should cool off until after the pledge.” This is one of the hardest things I’ve ever said. But what if I give myself to Mikhail, sink into the desire like I desperately want and need to, and then it all goes wrong? What if something terrible happens to Drake while I’m indulging in the steamy pleasure?
Mikhail steps back, his lips curving into a slightly offended frown. “You don’t want to cool off.”
I raise my hand, almost slamming it against his chest so he can feel the tension and the pain bubbling up inside of me. I want to collapse into him so badly and feel his powerful heartbeat. It’ll mean sinking deeply into his embrace, savoring his strength and warmth. Meanwhile, my baby brother is paraded at some Petrov party, terrified of what our father might do next.
Lowering my hand, I say, “I can’t think about anything else, just Drake. He’s priority number one.”
“Soon,” my man says, taking my hands, “he will be safe. You’ll see.”
“That’s part of the secret plan, is it?” I say bitterly, turning away.
As I stride quickly down the hallway, I hate myself, hate how petty I’m being. It’s almost like I can’t control it. The same instinct that gripped me so many times growing up grabs hold of me now.
When I walk into the bedroom, Mikhail storms in right after me. I turn, and I’m about to tell him to get out of here, but then he grabs me and kisses me so hard, so forcefully, with so much passion. I can’t tell him to leave me alone. I can’t even think of it. All I can do is let the pleasure take over.
He lifts me off my feet and sets me down on some drawers, pushing against me, letting me feel the heat. Then he stops himself and takes a small step back.
“You’re right,” he says huskily. “We shouldn’t … until I’ve kept my promise, which I will keep.”
“If you don’t …” I whisper.
“Say it,” he says fiercely, staring at me like he owns me, like he’d kill anybody who tried to take me from him.
“… this is over,” I whisper, not meaning it, knowing I could never end things with him. The first time I saw him and thought he was my husband-to-be, I knew there was no way I would ever end this. There’s no way out for us. If it weren’t for the chance of everything going wrong in the most gruesome way, I wouldn’t even be looking for one.
“Good,” he growls.
“Good?”
“Now I have something to aim for. Keep my promise, and I’ll get the most beautiful, sexiest, kindest, bravest, and talented woman I’ve ever known. Break it and …”
“Everything turns to ash,” I whisper, not caring how melodramatic it sounds.
He turns away. “I have to go. Until the pledge, we should try to keep our distance.”
I swallow, knowing it will be difficult, but I bite down when my instinct tries to get me to yell after him and beg him to stay. Over and over, I repeat in my head, I can do this. I can do this. I can do this.
I only wish it sounded true.
I avoid Mikhail in the day-and-a-half run-up to the party by mainly staying in my room and tinkering with my laptop. It feels like Mikhail intentionally stays away from this entire side of the house. One time, I watched him shooting hoops at midday. He looked up and saw me standing in the window. Even with the distance separating us, I could see the tension gripping him; like any second, he could snap.
Now, as I get ready for the party—wearing my ugliest dress because screw getting all fancy for Dad—I think about this morning, the first time Mikhail and I have spoken since our steamy kiss on the drawers.
“Your dad’s man has just been handed over to the police,” Mikhail told me, standing a couple feet back from the bedroom door as though he was afraid of what he would do. “He’ll be going to prison for a long, long time. I thought you’d want to know.”
“Thank you,” I whispered, wishing he’d kiss me even as I prayed for him not to.
After getting dressed and brushing my hair, I look at myself in the mirror. I’m filled with anger and resentment toward my father, pain for my baby brother, curiosity about Mikhail’s secret plan, and ugly, mocking visions of how everything could go very wrong very fast.