Total pages in book: 103
Estimated words: 95627 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 478(@200wpm)___ 383(@250wpm)___ 319(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 95627 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 478(@200wpm)___ 383(@250wpm)___ 319(@300wpm)
"How about you tell me why you don't like the class, and I will tell you why my work saves people, or at least gives some governments the option to save people?"
He raised an eyebrow, and I suddenly felt like I was playing chess. He would sacrifice his pawn by giving me information, but in doing so, he was going to move in on my bishop.
The server saved me from having to answer. As she came to the table to offer the specials, her hands holding her tablet to take the orders trembled a little. A thin sheen of sweat glistened on her forehead.
"What would you like?" Artem asked, catching me off guard.
His gaze softened when he spoke to me, a subtle change that sent nerves skittering across my skin. Every single time he did that, it caught me by surprise and seemed to disarm me.
How could something as simple as asking what I wanted to eat throw me off my game so hard every single time?
I ordered one of the specials that she had read off that I really had paid little attention to. She jotted it down, nodding, and took his order.
Before she had even left the table, our water glasses were refilled, and the sommelier came by with a bottle of wine, red as blood in the low light.
"On the house," he said with a too-wide grin, and his hand shook as he held it out for Artem's approval, the wine nearly splashing over the lip of the bottle. "A gift from us to one of our best customers."
Artem looked bored but nodded for him to pour.
I didn't want wine. The last thing I needed was alcohol on top of all of my anxiety and warring emotions. I needed to keep my head clear. Already his presence was intoxicating enough, clouding my judgment.
"What's wrong?" Artem asked as soon as the sommelier left, his eyes probing, stripping me bare.
"Nothing, just hungry, I guess." I gave him a soft smile, hoping that would be the end and I could get back to learning more about him and finding his weaknesses, or his blind spots.
I should've known better.
"Something is wrong. Tell me." His voice a low purr that made my skin tingle. "Is this about what happened last night? Or this—"
"No," I interrupted him, my pulse racing.
It was about what had happened last night, and this morning. It was about what happened the night before when he spanked me like a child, my skin still tender from his palm, and the cameras in my apartment, and his heavy-handed control, and my need to have some agency in my life.
And about the temptation to give in and to become what I promised myself I would never be: the pet of a monster.
I wasn't about to spill that all over the table. God only knew what he would do. He could accuse me of being an ungrateful brat and I'd get punished again, or maybe he would laugh at me, and use it to further trap me in his web of control and desire.
I needed a plan before I addressed those issues. Preferably one that led to my freedom. Right now, all I had was a nervous, empty stomach and proof that Artem was a man to be feared.
A man to be hated.
A man I shouldn't want with every fiber of my being.
"You can tell me now, or I could take you over my knee right here in the middle of this dining room, and then you’ll tell me anyway."
CHAPTER 22
VIKTORIA
His soft voice almost hid the threat in his words, but I knew he meant it, just like I knew there wasn't a single person here who would stop him.
His hand moved to my thigh under the table, his fingers digging into the soft flesh, possessive, commanding.
I hated that his threat made my core clench with forbidden desire at the thought of being at his mercy again.
"Please," I said, keeping my tone polite and professional as possible. "We were having such a lovely talk. I just had a bad day at school, and I would like to enjoy this dinner. Can we talk more about your engineering system or how you met Dima? I'm sure he wasn't the only one in that lecture."
"No." He took a long sip of the wine, his throat working as he swallowed.
I couldn't help but remember how those same lips had claimed mine, how his teeth had grazed my neck.
"You can tell me what caused you to have a bad day, and then maybe I will share my stories with you."
He wanted something. I could feel it.
Did he want me to admit that I was distracted in class thinking about him?
Did he want to hear that I was struggling in the classes I chose?
Or did he think it had something to do with this morning? Too sore from being fucked into oblivion to walk to class?