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)
"I had every right," he said as simply as if he'd decided the toppings on a pizza without consulting me. His casual dismissal of my life, my choices, hit me like a physical blow.
"No, you didn't. That was my education. My classes, my degree. It was my only chance at success. You had no right to—" My chest heaved with each word, sweat dampening my hairline despite the chill that ran through me.
"My money," he said with a simple shrug, as if that was all that mattered. "My influence.”
It felt like a slap to the face, and I guessed to a man like Artem, his money and position were all that mattered.
Power and the bottom line trumped everything else.
"And don't pretend to mourn that bastard,” Artem continued, his eyes hardening. “He was trying to break you down until you'd do anything to pass his class. I just made sure he can't do that to anyone else."
The taste of copper flooded my mouth as I bit the inside of my cheek to keep from screaming, to keep the tears back.
I turned on my heel, taking a few steps over the polished hardwood floor until something in the bookcase caught my eye. A glint of sunlight on a multifaceted crystal decanter filled with clear liquid.
I didn't even think about it. I just reached out like I was going to pick up one of the books and look at the title. Instead, I wrapped my hand around that decanter, lifting it up and throwing it across the room straight at his head. The weight of it felt gloriously solid in my hand before it left my fingertips.
It was lighter than I had thought, though, so it hit the wall just above his head and shattered. The crash echoed thunderously through the room, glass shards sparkling in the sunlight like deadly diamonds.
"Do you feel better now?" he asked, never letting his calm expression slip.
But I saw it— the slight tightening around his eyes, the almost imperceptible clench of his jaw. His breathing had quickened, his broad chest rising and falling with each controlled breath.
"No," I said. "But next time I won't miss."
I grabbed one of the matching glasses and threw it at him.
My aim was true, but he ducked out of the way, the crystal exploding against the bookshelf behind him. Three glasses left. The sound of shattering glass was music to my ears.
"This is your last warning," he said, anger leaching into his words.
"Or what? What more could you possibly take from me? You've already taken everything I care about. You get to decide where I live, you get to decide if I go to school or not, what I can study, whose lives you end.
"And did you stop there? No. You even isolated me from having any friends. And you fuck me whenever you feel like it; consent doesn't seem to fucking matter. So what else can you possibly take from me?"
Each accusation was punctuated by the rapid rise and fall of my chest, my breasts straining against my shirt with each heaving breath.
I grabbed another glass from the shelf and went to throw it at him, but he ate the distance between us in a second, grabbing my wrist and pinning it against the wall until I dropped the glass.
It tumbled out of my grasp to land on the thick area rug under my feet.
His body pressed against mine, hard and unyielding, the heat of him searing through my clothes. I could feel every solid inch of him, the unmistakable ridge of his arousal grinding against my hip.
The calm facade Artem wore finally slipped, revealing the anger in his eyes.
The need for control and the violent man behind the suit.
Now I saw the real Artem.
His gaze an intoxicating mix of rage and lust. His breath hot against my face, scented with expensive coffee and mint.
"You think you can fight me, princess?" he growled, tightening his grip on my wrist. "I dare you to try."
The edge of a shelf dug painfully into my back, but I refused to wince.
His face was inches from mine, his breath mingling with my own.
I could see the pulse beating in his throat, the slight sheen of sweat on his forehead.
I tried to wrench my arm free, but his grip was like iron.
The struggle only brought our bodies closer, my breasts crushed against his chest, our hips aligned in a cruel mimicry of passion.
My body burned everywhere we touched, a confusing inferno of hatred and arousal that threatened to consume me whole.
CHAPTER 31
VIKTORIA
I tried to rip my wrist from his iron grip, and he gave me the most sinister smile I had ever seen as he tightened his hold. The pressure of his fingers against my pulse sent an unwanted thrill through my veins.
Thrashing my body, I tried to push him away, tried to get out of the cage formed by the wall and his body. I hated how warmth surged in my body, and how much I loved the feeling of him trapping me.