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)
My tone is imperious, but my voice comes out a pitch too high. Alexei wouldn’t dare hurt me—probably—but I can’t vouch for what he might do to my tutor.
Did he see Dan touch me? Is that what this is all about?
Those dark eyes swing my way, and cold sweat gathers under my armpits. Only six months have passed since I saw him last, but there’s nothing of the boy left in Alexei Leonov. His jaw is even harder, more cruelly defined, his cheeks leaner and his cheekbones more prominent. There’s no trace of softness in his icy gaze, no hint of the flirtatiousness that marked the beginning of our first encounter. The man in front of me is cold and lethal, as dangerous as the Leonovs are known to be. I feel it deep in my bones.
Calling upon all of my courage, I say again, “Leave. Right now. We’re busy.”
Something dark flits over Alexei’s face, but he inclines his head. “As you wish.”
He exits, closing the door behind him, and for the first time since he walked in, I’m able to draw in a full breath.
I’m not the only one, either. When I turn back to face Dan, he’s regaining some of his color. He’s even attempting a smile, as if he didn’t almost shit his pants a minute ago. And suddenly, I’ve had enough.
Before I can think through all the potential consequences, I paste on a sweet smile and lean forward. “You’d better pray he doesn’t talk to my father or brothers. I don’t know how much you’ve heard about my family, but they are not like your other employers.”
Dan’s face goes white, red, and back to white, all in the span of five seconds. “I-I don’t know what you’re talking about.”
My smile widens. “Don’t you?”
Fuck, this is fun. Why haven’t I done this sooner? Why did I decide that my only options were to tell my family and risk Dan’s life, or to tolerate his lecherous looks and gross little touches? There was always a third option, and now that I’ve realized that, I feel a ton lighter. I suppose I should thank Alexei for showing me the power of fear.
If I hadn’t seen Dan stuttering and scared shitless at the mere thought that he might’ve been seen touching me, it would’ve taken me way longer to realize that I can threaten him into doing—or not doing—whatever I want.
Sure enough, my tutor swallows, his Adam’s apple bobbing. “I-I’m sorry. It won’t happen again.”
No, it won’t. I’ve made sure of that.
The next day, I find myself almost looking forward to my English lesson. After our little chat, Dan had kept his hands and eyes to himself, to the point that I had to call his name to get him to look my way—and even then, he was all pale and prone to stuttering.
I like it. I like it a lot. This must be what it feels like to have power, to know that you’re the one in control. It’s a new experience for me. All my life, I’ve been told what to do, what to wear, where to go to school, and how to act. My parents, my teachers, my brothers—they all have power and authority over me. So did Dan, up until yesterday. Maybe that’s why it didn’t occur to me that I could do something to change our dynamic on my own, without relying on my father or brothers.
I all but dance to the library when it’s time for the lesson. On the agenda today is the Oxford comma—and testing the limits of my newfound power over Dan. To that end, I’ve omitted my usual baggy sweatshirt and sweatpants in favor of a pair of skinny jeans and a tight V-neck shirt. It’s not exactly a fancy designer dress of the kind Mama likes me to wear, but I look good. I’m even wearing a light layer of makeup, which she’d approve of.
I want Dan to be tempted to stare but be too afraid to do it. It’s my little revenge on him for all those times when I felt like I needed to shower after our lessons.
I must be early for once because Dan isn’t in the library when I enter. I wait a few minutes, glancing at the clock every so often, but he doesn’t appear.
Huh. Maybe I scared him off for good?
I give it another ten minutes, and then I go in search of my mom.
I find her in the kitchen, fighting with Papa over something. Hearing their voices, I stop before entering and listen, in case I’m walking in on something major. But no. They’re arguing about tonight’s menu, it seems. That’s not too bad. Or maybe it is. They fight over everything these days. Each time I come home after being away at school, I find them even more at each other’s throats. The sad part is I’m pretty sure they love each other, or at least Papa loves Mama. I often see him looking at her like he’d like to chain her to his side. Then again, maybe that’s not love. At least not the kind they write about in books and portray in movies. It’s more like he can’t live without her, and there’s a part of him that hates that fact—and her. As for Mama, I can’t decide if she actually hates him, or if it’s all part of some cruel game they’re playing. Sometimes, I catch her looking at him like he’s her entire world, but other times, I’m almost certain she wishes him dead.