Page 12 of Scorch

My cheeks flush pink. “Eating low carb made me feel like I had the flu. I hated it.”

Why am I explaining this to him? Shouldn’t he accept me for who I am?

When my phone buzzes again, Timur looks near apoplectic. His eyes burn into me, his cheeks flushed.

“What the fuck is?—”

“It’s fine, it’s fine,” I tell him, shaking my head. “I’ll shut it off.”

I polish off the wine in my glass to steady my rising nerves. In a normal situation, he would be sending me all kinds of red flags, but we’re not a regular couple in an ordinary situation, and I know that well.

“She’s just worried and said something about me not being safe.”

He nods but doesn’t look too bothered. “You’re safe when you’re with me. I stationed a guard here for you before I came. She should stop watching the news.”

“She doesn’t watch the news.”

Timur’s lips thin. He doesn’t like being contradicted.

My food feels too dry in my mouth. I swallow with effort.

A chill shivers down my spine, and I don’t understand why. I push my wine away. I don’t want anything interfering with my ability to think straight. It’s a strange, strange night.

I’m not in danger. I’m with my fiancé and bodyguards. “You’ll keep me safe, won’t you?”

Timur leans forward and holds my hand. “Of course I will, Lydia. Always.”

CHAPTER THREE

Viktor

I check my phone for video surveillance of Lydia. When I heard of her engagement, I did my best to get her out of my mind, but I might as well take my heart out of my chest and try to continue to live.

But now that Mikhail has given me the green light and my marriage to Lydia Ivanova is a go, she’s taken up full residence in my every waking thought. The familiarity of my damn near obsession with her makes me breathe easy again.

I check the monitors in my office to see where she is—still sitting at dinner with that despicable asshole. I want to reach through the camera and pull her to me. Bring her home.

If her father wasn’t already dead, I’d personally put him in a fucking shallow grave for allowing his daughter to be within ten feet of the fucking asshole. I check my phone, wishing I could have the accuracy of surveillance on the road that I do at home, but we had to move.

We were one hour out when the call came in from Nikko.

“Move. He knows. He’s got her in a restaurant right now, and she doesn’t suspect a thing, but she isn’t safe. We have footage of him putting a large duffel bag, rope, duct tape, and gloves in his car. Not good, Viktor.”

I’ve never driven so fast in my life.

“What’s the plan?” Lev asks, sitting in the passenger seat as I weave in and out of traffic, driving over a hundred miles an hour with practiced ease. Aleks is in the back, blocking any police interference from catching our speed. We’re ten minutes out.

“Fucking get her out of there.”

“Vera texted her before Nikko realized what was going on.”

“Shit.”

“What did she say?”

“Said something cryptic about her being in danger and getting out of there.”

Shit. If Yudin finds out, she’s fucked. I shake my head.

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