Page 71 of Brutal Reign
Kin waves at us as he spins in dizzy circles, and I wave back, forcing a smile. Dinara waves too. He moves on to stomping through the dandelions like they’re bubble wrap.
“He seems happy.” She waits a beat. “Amazing eyes that kid has.”
My head snaps toward her. What is she getting at? But she’s already rising from the bench with a stretch, changing the subject completely.
“By the way, I hear you need a new wardrobe. Want help? I can have things delivered, and you can choose what works.”
There were basic clothes waiting when we arrived, but if I’m actually settling in here, which is surreal to think about, I’ll need more.
I eye her ripped jeans and motorcycle boots. “Uh, I’m not sure we share the same style.”
I lean toward clean lines and tailored pieces, while her look is more...cyber punk. Which I appreciate. But on her.
She smirks. “Don’t worry. I’ve got you covered.”
A new wardrobe is the least of my worries right now. I need to figure out how to contact Uncle Chen, and Kin needs things too. “Sure. But nothing too...” I trail off, not sure how to finish.
“Nothing too bratva trophy wife?”
“Exactly.”
She winks and saunters away, leaving me with way more questions than answers.
CHAPTER
TWENTY-SEVEN
HOPE
Sleep is impossible.
I’ve been staring at the tablet for too long, turning it over in my hands like it might eventually give up its secrets. Every time I think about reaching out to Uncle Chen, doubt creeps in. What if their security is stronger than I realize? What if they’re tracking every keystroke? And even if Chen manages to transfer the funds directly to my account, how would I access it?
But I’m not going to solve that problem tonight. I’m honestly exhausted and need a good night’s sleep. And for that, I’m going to need alcohol or something to quiet my head and stop it from spinning in endless circles.
The house is silent, no guards roaming the halls. I suppose they don’t need as much security inside when the massive property itself is basically an open-air prison.
I head for the main floor. I have no idea where Pavel keeps his alcohol, but if I look hard enough, I’ll find something. Passing through the darkened main hall, I notice a slash of light spilling from a room I vaguely remember from the tour. It’s asitting room or study. The door is cracked, and I can’t resist peeking inside.
Pavel sits on an expensive leather sofa, his legs spread wide, his upper body fully relaxed back. His tie hangs loose around his neck, his white dress shirt—unbuttoned halfway down his chest—revealing the edge of tattoos I remember far too well. A crystal tumbler rests in his grip, nearly empty.
Even disheveled, or maybe because of it, he looks devastatingly handsome. The stubble along his jaw, the way his shirt clings to his broad shoulders, the casual sprawl of his powerful body...
My mouth goes dry for reasons that have nothing to do with thirst.
He looks up when I pause in the doorway. Those slate eyes find mine immediately, and heat flushes through my body despite the cool air. He takes a slow sip of his drink, never breaking eye contact, like he’s been waiting for me to find him.
We’ve barely seen each other these last few days.
“I—I was on my way to the kitchen for a drink,” I explain. He didn’t ask, but I feel the need to explain why I'm wandering around at night.
He sets down his glass and pats the leather cushion beside him. “Come and have a drink with me.”
I chew my bottom lip. The smart move would be to say no and head back to Kin’s room. But something defiant sparks in me. Why should I run scared? Besides, I want some answers about his plan for Kin and me.
I step into the room and settle on the sofa across from him.
“What’s your drink of choice?” He gestures to a fully stocked bar cart across the room.
