Total pages in book: 81
Estimated words: 74579 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 373(@200wpm)___ 298(@250wpm)___ 249(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 74579 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 373(@200wpm)___ 298(@250wpm)___ 249(@300wpm)
"Hello, Maksym," she says, giving him a pointed look. "And who might this be?"
Maksym narrows his eyes on her. "What did I tell you about staying out of this?"
The woman's eyes widen. "Of course, I'm staying out of this," she says. "I only asked her name. Isn't she allowed to speak?"
"No," he bites out, scowling at her. "Didn't your husband talk to you about this?"
"My husband?" she asks innocently. "Oh, he's out doing some errands. He might have called but I haven't responded yet." She shrugs. "We haven't had a chance to talk."
"Larissa," he growls warningly.
"What?" she says with wide-eyed innocence even I don't buy.
"Get out of here," he tells her.
"I don't know if Demyan will like the way you're talking to me," she says.
"We'll find out what Demyan does and does not like shortly," he responds with a pointed look. He punches a button on the elevator, and we ascend. I venture a look at her, wondering if she will be my ally, or if I need to be on guard.
Her gaze is sympathetic. I like her, and I wish the big barbarian wasn't in here so I could speak freely to her.
An ally, then. I pretend to look away, but we communicate much in our brief, silent exchange.
I'm taking in every detail. Which floor we leave from and where we arrive. The buttons he presses. Every vent and doorway and window. I'm small and this is a large place, so I suspect I can find a way out a window if I need to.
But how will I get away from my captor? He's my biggest obstacle. Literally.
I'll bide my time.
Maksym stands beside the woman he called Larissa in brooding silence, still glaring at her. I can tell just from our brief exchange exactly why he's so angry. She's interfering with what he wants to do, but she belongs to one of his brothers. He can't make her do anything.
I like her. She'll likely pay for interfering, but she doesn't seem to care.
I'm going to garner more sympathy. It'll be to my advantage.
When the elevator door opens, he pulls me forward, but I give a little gasp and sway.
Pausing, he looks at me, his brows knit together. "What is it?" he snaps.
"So nauseous," I say, closing my eyes. "I'm going to be sick." If I had the use of my hands, I would cover my mouth, but I'm cuffed. I want him to think I'm incapacitated, that I'm not as strong or as capable as I am.
"There's no need for you to be sick," he says, as if stating so will make me better.
"No?" I say, closing my eyes. "Drugging me and keeping me cuffed to your bed was normal, right? Or was it that beating you gave me?"
I don't look at Larissa. I can feel her glare at Maksym from where I am.
The door to the elevator shuts, and Larissa draws a chair over for me. We're in some kind of large, ornate dining room. There are many doors and windows. Many means of escape.
"I did not beat you," he says. "I gave you a spanking for being a naughty little girl." With narrowed eyes, he looks to Larissa.
"Get her water," Larissa says to a nearby uniformed servant.
"Get your husband," Maksym growls.
Larissa freezes when a man walks through the doorway, and her mouth snaps shut. The man isn't as large as Maksym, but he's thick and muscular, with blond hair and razor-sharp blue eyes. He doesn't look at me or Maksym, his eyes trained like a laser on Larissa. Maksym straightens his back and gives Larissa a pointed look. She pales and swallows.
Shit. My sympathetic witness is in trouble.
"Go back to our room and wait for me there," the man orders.
"Demyan," she begins. "I want to witness the meeting. I have questions to ask. I was there the night of the rescue!"
The night of the rescue? What rescue?
"And you were told to stay out of Maksym's business."
"I've done nothing!"
I moan, continuing my facade. Maksym doesn't even look my way.
"She may have earned her place at our table, but only if she's loyal to the Bratva, brother," Maksym says.
"Of course," the blond man they call Demyan responds. His eyes are still trained on Larissa. "She knows this." He draws closer to her, and tugs a lock of her hair, his eyes narrowing. "And she knows that if she disobeys, she answers to me. Don't you, little kitten?"
Larissa's cheeks flush a pretty shade of pink. "Yes, sir," she says, and I note this time she doesn't look my way.
Larissa may or may not be a help to me. Time will tell.
"Are you taking the girl with you?" Demyan asks.
"Of course," Maksym says, lifting me out of the chair by the arm. "She's faking illness."
"I'm not!" I protest, but he gives me such a hard smack to the ass, my lips clamp together.