Total pages in book: 74
Estimated words: 68931 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 345(@200wpm)___ 276(@250wpm)___ 230(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 68931 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 345(@200wpm)___ 276(@250wpm)___ 230(@300wpm)
He nods, his expression turning grim. “Slava. He’s just turned four.”
The guilt sinks its teeth deeper. “I’m sorry. This must be so hard for him.”
Alexei’s voice is tight. “I don’t know. He’s staying with my father, and whenever I see him, he just seems… distant. Closed off. We were close before—I was his favorite uncle—but now I can’t get him to open up at all. It’s as if—” He stops and waves his hand. “Never mind. I’m sure it’s just the shock of it. He’ll recover in time.”
“Of course he will.” My brothers and I will make sure of it. I bite my lip. “You lost your mom pretty young too, didn’t you?”
“I was five when she died. Complications from Ksenia’s birth,” he says, and even though there’s no emotion in his tone, I have to fight a bizarre urge to reach over the table and hug him. I’ve always known that he and his siblings were raised by their father, but I never gave it much thought, except to vaguely wonder if that’s why he’s so ruthless… if being raised by a monster has made him one.
“That must’ve been equally hard for you,” I say softly.
He lifts one broad shoulder in a shrug. “It was a long time ago.” Picking up his glass, he leans forward. “What about you? Your loss is far more recent. How are you doing these days?”
It’s my turn to flinch. To give myself a moment to recover, I down the rest of my champagne and motion to a passing waiter for more. When he places it on the table, I manage a stiff smile at Alexei. “I’m fine. It’s old news for me by now as well.”
“I’m glad to hear it,” he says quietly and lifts his glass in a toast. His eyes lock on mine. “To those we loved and lost—may they rest in peace.”
“To them,” I say thickly and clink my glass against his before gulping down all of the fizzy liquid. There’s a stinging behind my eyelids and a choked feeling in my throat, so I motion to another waiter, and he brings over his tray with drinks. They turn out to be vodka shots, but I don’t care. I want something, anything, to drown this feeling, these memories.
If I had my pills, I’d take them, but they’re at home, in my bedside drawer. I haven’t needed them in months, so I stopped carrying them around.
“Two please,” I tell the waiter, and he places one shot in front of me and the other in front of Alexei, who lifts his eyebrows at me but doesn’t object.
“To family,” I say, raising my shot glass in a toast when the waiter is gone.
“To family,” Alexei echoes, touching his glass to mine.
We take the shot, and the expensive vodka goes down smoothly, with a pleasant burn. The choking sensation in my throat recedes, and I wonder, a bit hazily, if alcohol has been the answer all along.
Maybe my father had the right idea. Maybe it is possible to drink the pain away.
I’m about to gesture for another drink when Alexei reaches over and covers my hand with his. His palm is big and warm, his touch strangely comforting. I’m able to draw in a deeper breath, even as my pulse picks up pace, my body quickening with its usual reaction to him.
“Are you okay, Alinyonok?” he asks softly, and to my shock, I realize that I am… that the searing pain I’ve become conditioned to expect each time I think about my parents is only a distant ache right now, dulled either by alcohol, the passage of time, or a combination of the two. Or maybe it’s none of the above. Maybe it’s him. Maybe it’s his touch and the warm sympathy in his dark eyes.
Maybe it’s because in this moment, we’re not enemies, and I don’t feel so scared and alone.
“I’m okay.” The words are only a faint whisper on my lips, but he hears me and his lips curve in a smile that I feel deep inside. A soft, tender smile that transforms his hard, cruelly carved features into something so breathtakingly beautiful that a tiny fissure opens in my heart… a tear that should hurt but doesn’t.
He squeezes my hand lightly before interlacing our fingers together, and the ballroom once again melts away, disappearing in a foggy glow that veils my vision in every direction except the center, where he’s sitting. Where he’s looking at me like I am the center of his vision, his world.
“Alina?”
The female voice is soft, as is the touch on my shoulder, but it jars me all the same. Yanking my hand free, I jackknife to my feet and spin around to face Natasha.
“Hey,” she says, blinking. “I didn’t mean to startle you. I was calling your name, but I guess you didn’t hear me.” She shifts her gaze to Alexei, and a strange look flits across her face. “Alexei. Glad you could make it.”