Total pages in book: 84
Estimated words: 79265 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 396(@200wpm)___ 317(@250wpm)___ 264(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 79265 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 396(@200wpm)___ 317(@250wpm)___ 264(@300wpm)
He rescued me when I was a poor boy on the streets of Moscow. He took me in. Raised me as his own. He taught me the ways of the Bratva.
Over the years, I’ve risen in stature and power, the Brigadier. I’m the commander of our small army, the one who assigns jobs, oversees their completion, and pays tribute to our Pakhan. I assure Dimitri of our loyalty with fastidious adherence to his expectations. Any man who steps a toe out of line in obedience to Dimitri answers to me.
So when Dimitri tells me to jump, I ask how high.
“Prikhodite seychas,” he orders, come now, in the familiar harsh yet harmonic language of my homeland. There’s no more time to dawdle. He continues, explaining to me that circumstances have changed and he needs me here. I frown but nod, even though he can’t see me. This was not how I wanted to orchestrate her abduction. I had a plan, and it was working perfectly, stunned by my attention and eager for more. My plan was to slowly goad her toward the trap I set, but now I’ll have to act more aggressively.
I glance at the clock and note that she’s off of work in just under half an hour. My plan was to take her to a fancy restaurant. Ply her with wine. Speak to her of the things that are on her mind. Ask questions about herself and feign interest in what interests her.
I don’t have time for the slow seduction now. I curse to myself as I think about my options.
She’s out of money for the week and will have little to eat until she’s paid next Thursday. In her home, she has several packages of noodles, some bread, and peanut butter but nothing more.
Poverty I can work with. Obedience will be harder.
But I know my way with a woman like her, and I always get what I want.
Chapter Four
Sadie
I’m punching the time clock when a shadow darkens the doorway behind me. My heartbeat quickens when I recognize his profile.
“Kazimir,” I greet him, startled. “You scared me.”
He leans against the doorframe. “I’m sorry,” he says with a smile. His voice is soft but deep and husky as it carries across the quiet room. “I didn’t mean to frighten you. I wondered if you had dinner plans tonight?”
I nearly drop the books I’m holding. I checked out a couple that I planned on reading tonight.
“Dinner?” I ask stupidly. No one’s ever asked me out. Is this a date?
I look down at my clothing, dotted in dust. Today I spent time dusting the archives, and I must look a sight. “I… do I have time to go home to change?”
“No need,” he says with a smile, his piercing eyes giving me a quick look over. “Nothing fancy, really.”
Well, then.
“Alright,” I say, but the words of the woman in the coffee shop come back to me.
Beautiful and dangerous.
It’s an apt description. A prowling lion, predatory and powerful.
Am I making a mistake?
But when he reaches for the books in my hand and takes them into his, then smiles in that way that makes my tummy flip, I silence the doubts in my mind. I won’t let my imagination get the better of me. Not this time.
“Where are we going?” I ask, trying to keep calm and not act silly like I did the day before.
“Oh, I have a place in mind.”
We leave the library and talk easily to one another. He asks about the books I’m reading, and I tell him about the book of Irish poetry I checked out a few days before. I omit mention of the romance I’m reading. It feels so silly and frivolous around him. He doesn’t miss anything, though.
“But that isn’t all you’re reading,” he says, with a look both curious and corrective. “What else is there?”
“Oh,” I say, flushing. “There’s—well, I read romance.”
“Mhm,” he says. He leads me into a tavern and the smell of steak and potatoes makes my belly churn with hunger. “Tell me.”
“It’s silly,” I say, shaking my head, but he merely looks at me. Waiting.
And so I do. I go on and on about my books while he orders us drinks and dinner. The wine is pink and sweet, and tastes so good after the long day I’ve had. Soon, a large platter with a sizzling steak, baked potato, and wilted spinach sits in front of me. I look up at him in surprise. I was so busy talking I didn’t notice he ordered for me. He never asked me what I wanted.
My mouth waters.
He waves a fork at my dish. “Eat,” he instructs, slicing into his own steak. I’m normally self-conscious but somehow, he puts me at ease.
I eat ravenously as he plies me with wine. He asks me about my family and friends, and I’m getting comfortable with him. I tell him I have no family and no friends to speak of.