Total pages in book: 108
Estimated words: 100416 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 502(@200wpm)___ 402(@250wpm)___ 335(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 100416 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 502(@200wpm)___ 402(@250wpm)___ 335(@300wpm)
His phone rang, and he was pathetically grateful for the break. “Romanov.”
“Answering your own phone at this hour? Tsk-tsk.”
He went still. He knew that voice, but he wouldn’t have guessed that the bitch had the audacity to phone his direct line. “Alethea Eldridge. What a pleasant surprise.”
“I think it’s hardly that. Did you get my present, Romanov? I picked it out just for you.”
Now it was his turn to tsk. “We both know who sent that gift, and it wasn’t you. Though it begs the question—did you command your daughter to do it, or have you lost even a modicum of control over her?”
“It’s a moot point. The gift got its point across.” Alethea paused. “How is your darling wife, by the way?”
He expected the dodge, and allowed it. Alethea was too smart to admit she’d lost control of her daughter, even if they both knew it was true. Dmitri considered her words. “I have no doubt that you love your daughter, but if she so much as touches my wife, I’ll skin her alive while I force you to watch. You be sure to let her know that.”
“So quick with the threats. You must really care about the girl.” Alethea laughed. “Though I don’t know that I’d be making threats I can’t follow through on, Romanov. You don’t have ready access to Mae, but I do have access to something you lost. Or should I say someone?”
He went still. Fuck. “I have no idea what you’re going on about.”
“Don’t you? He was remarkably difficult to break, but my Mae is gifted. Mikhail Sokolov. He didn’t give us much more than that, but I laid down boundaries to what my daughter could do. Make one wrong move on your part, and she’s under orders to kill him in whatever creative way her twisted little mind can come up with—and we both know Mae is an artist when it comes to such things.”
An artist was one way to put it.
He wanted to call her bluff, but Alethea wouldn’t have contacted him over anything less than a sure thing. Which meant Mikhail was under their tender care—and had been long enough for them to force his name out of him. Knowing the man, it took more than simple torture to get even that much.
Dmitri had failed him. He’d sent him off and immediately become so enthralled with Keira that he hadn’t checked in or sent anyone else to do the same. Another misstep. He tried to think fast and find an angle to exploit, but ultimately Alethea had him painted into a corner, and she had to know it. She wouldn’t have waited until now to make contact if there was a way for him to regain the upper hand. “I’ll take that under consideration.”
“You do that.”
He gritted his teeth and then forced his face to relax so that tension wouldn’t bleed into his voice. “In the meantime, any damage done to my man from here forward will be repaid in kind, so think carefully about what you want to accomplish, Alethea.”
She laughed, a harsh, grating sound. “We both know that the second you get your hands on me, you’ll repay in kind regardless of whether he’s further injured. Don’t toy with me, Romanov.”
“You will bring him to me. I’ll consider sparing you if he’s not irreparably harmed.” Mikhail might very well die despite everything Dmitri had to throw at Alethea. The thought made his hands shake, and he had to press his free one to his desk to keep from throwing something. Dmitri didn’t make mistakes, but he’d made a massive one when it came to Alethea—two now, if he was keeping track.
“I’ll take that under consideration,” she parroted back to him, and hung up.
Dmitri roared and swept the shit off his desk. “That fucking bitch.” She’d outplayed him. He could blame his distraction on Keira, but the only one responsible was Dmitri. He’d incorrectly assumed that because the Eldridges were in hiding, they were weak and focusing on surviving.
He should have known better.
Alethea hung up the phone and turned to the man handcuffed in the dingy tub. “You know, I think Romanov might actually care whether you live or die. Fascinating.”
Mikhail stared at her with hateful eyes. She’d gagged him before making the call—no one liked interruptions—but now she reached over and unbuckled the strap holding it in place. He coughed and turned his head to the side to spit. “He won’t deal with you. Not for me.”
“Perhaps.” It would bother Romanov if this man died, but he was too smart to risk himself or his wife for a mere second in command. That wasn’t what this was about. She needed Romanov off-center and expecting an attack from any quarter while her mole inside his operation did what was required. Expecting an attack from the outside would keep him busy in the meantime.