Total pages in book: 31
Estimated words: 28975 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 145(@200wpm)___ 116(@250wpm)___ 97(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 28975 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 145(@200wpm)___ 116(@250wpm)___ 97(@300wpm)
When her father had approached him with marriage, as had Galkin, he wanted to decline. He was not a Brigadier. He was a killer. Admittedly, he was Galkin’s lead man, and that made him even bigger than any Brigadier, but that was beside the point. He had no intention of marrying.
He had told Galkin no. Galkin told him to meet with her first, and then decide. Anastasia was just … different. He was now married.
The ceremony of the sheets had been interesting. Dante had assumed his daughter was no virgin, and yet she had been exactly that. Bogdan had never been a woman’s first, until Anastasia. He’d not taken her since that night.
Although he attempted to be gentle, he had wanted to be done with it so she would no longer have to deal with the pain. He’d been rough, fast, and then her blood and his semen had spilled onto the sheets. Now, as he looked at her, he felt the longing that had started that night.
“Well, maybe you need to camp outside, in the open. It is an eye-opening experience.” She laughed. “I’m sorry. Please don’t do that. My mom had to try and take them off my body.”
“Them?”
“Yeah, there was like two or three. It was gross. Let’s not talk about it, since it doesn’t exactly give you any kind of positivity about camping out in the open.”
“Your mother sounds nice,” he said.
“She was nice.”
“And you miss her?”
“You heard that?”
“Yes.”
Anastasia took a deep breath and then glanced back toward the house. “I bet she would know how to handle these parties.”
“You’re doing great.”
“I stand around and I know people don’t like me. Why do you keep bringing me?”
He lifted up. He was taller than her, but Anastasia tilted her head back, looking up at him. Her head came to his chest. Not too much taller.
“You’re my wife and your place is right by my side.”
“I’m an outsider, Bogdan,” she said, repeating his name slowly. “We both know I’m not really supposed to be here.”
He closed the distance between them, not that there was much. “And where are you supposed to be?” he asked.
She hesitated and then tilted her head to the side. “Doesn’t my dad want you to kill me?”
Chapter Two
Waking up the following morning, Anastasia didn’t need to reach out to know the bed was empty. Within seconds, all of last night’s memories came pouring back, and she groaned.
She had been convincing herself that the threat wasn’t real between them. Their first real conversation without Bogdan shouting one-word orders at her, and she ruined it.
Slapping a hand against her forehead, she groaned. They were talking last night. Admittedly, she talked a little more, but Bogdan responded with sentences. It was improvement, and then she had to ruin it by opening her big mouth and asking if her dad wanted him to kill her. Bogdan had gone quiet. She didn’t know it was possible for a blank expression to get even … blanker? Deadlier? He looked like he wanted to commit murder.
Sitting up in bed, she glanced around the room. Sunshine was already filtering into the room, and a brief look at the alarm clock on the side of the bed told her it was a little after seven. To her, she’d slept in. She was an early riser, usually around five-thirty, rarely six.
Anastasia shoved the blanket from her, yawned as she climbed out of bed, and made her way through to the en-suite bathroom. There was no sign of Bogdan, not that she was expecting him.
She had annoyed him last night. After she asked him that question, they had left the party so fast, and once they got back to his apartment, he had ordered her to bed. She’d wanted to refuse, but she figured she already pushed him enough.
She’d been determined to stay awake, only she’d fallen right to sleep, which had annoyed her.
After using the toilet, she flushed, washed her hands, brushed her teeth, and then splashed some water on her face. Pressing a towel against her face, she pulled it back and looked at her reflection.
“You’ve got to learn to keep your mouth shut,” she said.
Her reflection stared back at her, and she thought she saw a little doubt on her own face. She was not going to take her own advice. Living in fear of death was not good.
She growled, put her towel in the laundry basket, and then made her way into his bedroom. She couldn’t bring herself to see anything as hers. All the places she stayed belonged to him. She didn’t have any possessions. He paid for everything she had.
Walking to his closet, she opened it, and there were her dresses. She hadn’t chosen them. In every place they lived, there was always a section of clothing for her. She looked through and settled on a summer dress with short sleeves that nipped at the waist, flared out at the hips, and went to her knees. A nice pastel blue color. She liked it.