Total pages in book: 113
Estimated words: 106541 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 533(@200wpm)___ 426(@250wpm)___ 355(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 106541 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 533(@200wpm)___ 426(@250wpm)___ 355(@300wpm)
“He?” Kirill asks, his voice shocked.
“I think so.” Ghost swivels the wand around a handful of times before Kirill’s impatience gets the better of him.
He snatches it out of his hand before conducting his own set of tests. He doesn’t glide the wand over my stomach gently like Ghost did. He digs it in deep and jabs it against my pelvic bone before freezing it on an image that seals my fate.
I only have months left to live.
“It’s a boy.”
Ghost sounds as shocked as Kirill when he replies, “I fucking told you blood tests don’t lie.” He hides the sweat beading on his top lip by dragging his tongue along it before murmuring, “I also told you that you need to stop being so paranoid. I’m not out to get you.”
Regretfully, I’m not offered the same courtesy.
Seconds after Kirill yanks his cell out of his trouser pocket to snap an image of our son, a beautiful blonde breezes into the room unannounced. She’s wearing a flowing red dress and a sultry grin that’s enhanced by red-painted lips.
“Honey, are you ready? Our guests are waiting.”
My stomach drops to the floor when Ghost answers her instead of the man I was anticipating. Blondes are Kirill’s top pick. “I’ll be there in a minute.” As he scrubs at his jaw, he peers down at the goop spread across my midsection before shifting his attention to Kirill. “Anything else? We have guests waiting.” During the ‘we’ part of his statement, he nudges his head to the unnamed beauty who doesn’t balk at the fact there’s a dead man on the floor and that my dress is tucked under my breasts.
“No.” Kirill doesn’t look at Ghost while dismissing him from the room.
He must have learned a trick or two from Ghost, who curls his arm around the blonde’s slender waist and exits without so much of a glance in my direction.
44
KATIE
Tonight’s celebrations aren’t solely about Kirill’s future heir. It is also honoring the soon-to-be nuptials of a couple who found love on the crazy and fast route.
Ghost is engaged.
From information I’ve overheard from the serving staff and a handful of the guests as out of the loop as me, Ghost only met Anastasia last month. After a whirlwind affair that barely saw them coming up for air the past four weeks, he proposed in front of everyone at brunch yesterday.
Allegedly, Anastasia cried while sobbing ‘yes’ on repeat.
That tidbit had me wondering if Ghost regrets his proposal. I barely shed a dozen tears the night he comforted me after Kirill almost killed me, but it appears as if that is all it takes to be shunned by him.
I had a good reason to cry, but it appears as if his wife-to-be is the only one who is allowed to cry and live to tell the tale.
I won’t lie. Even unsure what the hell is going on and terrified I only have a few months left to live, I am as mad as hell. Ghost asked me to trust him, and I gave it to him without hesitation.
I was an idiot.
For the umpteenth time this evening, I startle when the goon with a watermelon head cheers the Bobrovs again. “To the Bobrovs!”
They’ve been doing the same cheer all night like greatness is just around the corner.
I wonder how close they are when Kirill leans into my side and whispers in my ear, “Be ready to leave in ten. We have an early start tomorrow.”
Goose bumps rise over my skin. I’m not turned on by his hot breath hitting my neck or the closeness of his lips to the shell of my ear. I’m responding to the glare his nearness throws me from across the table.
Despite his gushing fiancée spending the entire meal on his lap, Ghost has been watching me all night. He looks as angry as I feel.
Two hours ago, I could understand why.
Now, I am clueless.
When Kirill’s phone rings, he gestures to a man to follow him outside before he mutters, “I need to take this. I’ll be back to collect you in a minute.”
I nod, unsure why he is suddenly updating me on his whereabouts. He never has before, and quite frankly, I don’t care what the hell he does as long as it takes him away from me.
The daggers being tossed across the room greaten when he presses his lips to the edge of my mouth before he stalks outside. Ghost looks ropeable, and his glare is so white-hot I excuse myself to use the restroom. I don’t really need to go, but anywhere will be more comfortable than sitting directly across from Ghost.
I make it halfway down the hallway the washroom is located in when my elbow is suddenly clutched, and my speed is unwillingly doubled.
After shoving me into the bathroom and locking the door behind him, Ghost slowly spins around to face me. He doesn’t speak a word. He merely rakes his fingers through his hair, leaving it standing on end while breathing erratically.