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2024-10-29 19:42:56MILA
EIGHT HOURS LATER, I GLANCED out the window of the private jet. “Ronan . . . did Moscow get an Eiffel Tower of its own recently?” “I would never allow that kind of romantic tourismin my city.” “Huh,” I mused. “So why amI seeing the Eiffel Tower right now?” “We’re in Paris,” he said indifferently.And that had been his attitude the entire flight: indifferent. He and those stupid “Delicious!” sounds coming from his phone were driving me crazy. Albert wasn’t any better company. He was flipping through a Cosmo in the row of seats at the front of the plane.I hadn’t seen Ronan in four months. I’d been burning up for eight hours waiting for him to touch me, kiss me, and drag me to the convenient bed in the back. But he hadn’t done any of that. When I got tired of waiting, I’d straddled his lap, ran my lips down his neck, and cupped his erection as it grew harder beneath my hand.I thought I was finally going to get what I wanted, but then he shoved me offRelated chapters
Lost in Moscow's Secret 1
MILABREATH RAGGED FROM THE RUN, I dropped my heels on the grass and padded barefoot across our manicured lawn, not stopping until I’d climbed onto the rocky embankment and felt the cool waves lapping at my toes and the hem of my evening dress. I panted as sweat glistened on my skin beneath the heavy moon. Agentle breeze tousled my long hair, rustling the palmtrees and my lacy cap sleeves, but the paradise constrained me as tightly as the Dior belt around my waist.The five-mile run wasn’t enough to shake the combustible feeling that expanded inside—though, as always, the sea held me back.I itched to rip the pearls from my neck, to tear my dress to shreds like Cinderella’s stepsisters had, but doing so would demolish a facade I’d maintained for so long I wasn’t sure what lay beneath. So, instead, I dug my French-tipped nails into my palms.There had to be more than this, more than a world behind The Moorings’ gates, but the desire for more than a life of opulence inflated a kernel of
Lost in Moscow's Secret 2
MILAI WADED IN A PILE of clothes, half-bohemian, half-sophisticated socialite. The former, I felt compelled to buy but never wore. Papa seemed quietly disapproving of anything yellow and nonconformist, and I took peace signs seriously.Until now, apparently, as I packed colors brighter than the sun into an old cheerleading duffle bag. I wasn’t home free of The Moorings yet, so I dressed the part in a loose blouse, checker-printcigarette pants, and white ankle boots. I caught my reflection in the mirror: a taller, less-pink version of Elle Woods in Legally Blonde staring back.On my way to the door, I stopped to unclasp my pearl necklace and dropped it into my jewelry box. Then, I wound up the ballerina, setting her on a lonely pirouette, before I tiptoed down the stairs at three a.m.Passing Ivan’s bedroomdoor, I stilled when a very feminine moan sounded on the other side. Ivan wasn’t a Don Juan, but neither was he celibate. Sometimes, during my papa’s absences, I’d come down to br
Lost in Moscow's Secret 3
MILA AS THE DEADBOLT LOCKED INTO place, I wondered what happened to good ol’Russian hospitality. They hadn’t even offered me anything to eat. Practically blasphemous, I’d learned from growing up in a Russian household, especially froma couple who seemed very in touch with their religious side.With the weight of my papa’s secret sitting heavy on my heart and the obvious fact I wasn’t welcome here, a pathetic part of me wanted to listen and just go home. But if I returned now . . .I’d dream. I’d wonder.I’d carry on existing.And I wanted to live for a change. Just for a few days. Before The Moorings sucked me back into its passionless hole. Before I married Carter Kingston, had two-point-five kids, and drowned in social luncheons, pastel-colored cardigans, and ropes of pearls.The iron gate swung back and forth in the icy breeze. Squeeaak.Clank. Squeeaak. Clank.I slipped my duffle bag over my shoulder,
Lost in Moscow's Secret 4
RUSSIAN VOICES, ONE CONCERNED, ONE rough and low, crept into my subconscious. Papa only spoke fluent Russian when he had Russian guests over, but why were they in my room?It was weird. And rude.I sighed, reaching to pull the sheets over my head to shut out the noise. Instead, my hand slid over the familiar feel of one of my papa’s suit jackets, wool and cashmere. But something was different. This one smelled like pine and cinnamon with a hint of cigar smoke. There was something very unfatherly about the scent, and it was what convinced me to open my eyes.I groaned as a sharp pain shot through my skull.“Khorosho, ty vstala,” a silver-haired man said, pulling a high-back leather chair from a large mahogany desk toward me. Square-framed glasses. White button-up. Black slacks. A cold sweat spread through me as I stared at the stethoscope around his neck.Some people had nightmares about falling, or public nudity, or ghosts. Mine was wakin
Lost in Moscow's Secret 5
His voice was so rough and soft. So composed and accented. So lenient in its delivery it slipped beneath my skin, melting the tension in my body like butter. I bet people went out of their way to listen to this man talk.“Do you have any pain besides your head?” I nodded, staring at him.Asmile touched his lips. “Where?” “My side.”Ronan rose to his full height. As he and the doctor spoke, a boy—the one I saw carrying a crate of liquor—entered the room with my duffle bag in his hands. He dropped it beside the couch and sent a glance of disgust my way.Ronan eyed himin silent warning. The boy swallowed and turned to walk out of the room. “Kirill would like to take a look at you, if you will let him.”I nodded.When Ronan headed to the door, I got to my feet, fighting a spell of dizziness at the sudden move. “Wait,” I blurted. “Where are you going?”He turned his head to study me with cautious eyes. “Giving you some privac
Lost in Moscow's Secret 6
ICRUNCHED ONE OF THOSE pills between my teeth, hoping for relief, and then dug through my duffle bag for my phone. That is, until I remembered it was in my coat pocket, which currently lay in a frigid Russian alley. It was surprising they hadn’t found it considering my bag must have been a couple of blocks away, and my coat should be near their back door.Aknock sounded, and a redhead no older than seventeen, wearing a plain white dress, entered the room. She kept her eyes lowered as she set a bowl of soup and a slice of bread on a side table near the couch. I thanked her and asked if she knew what time it was, but from the way she didn’t even acknowledge I spoke before she turned and walked out of the room, I guessed she must not speak English. Or at all.The soup smelled so good it made my mouth water, but it looked like solyanka, which meant it contained meat. I’d been a vegan since I watched a meatpacking documentary in junior high. Borya hated it, but he alway
Lost in Moscow's Secret 7
MILA “NO, REALLY I CAN PAY for my own room.”Albert was obviously hard of hearing because his stoic expression didn’t falter as he walked down the hotel hall with my bag in his hand. I trailed two steps behind the giant, struggling to keep up with him.I knew he understood English. On the way over, I touched the window while taking in the sights, and through the rearview mirror, he looked at me like I’d just slapped his favorite grandma and grumbled at me to not smudge the glass. He’d be handsome if he wiped away that scowl and didn’t shave his head like he was just released from prison. Though, with that attitude, I could only assume he was.After driving me to a swanky hotel, he handed the straight-faced concierge a wad of cash. The older man didn’t ask a single question before sliding a shiny room key into Albert’s hand. It looked like a drug deal. Or a bribe. I couldn’t be privy to Albert’s illegal activities no matter how things
Lost in Moscow's Secret 8
MILA MY DRESS WAS YELLOW AND flowy with an umber crocheted bodice. It was modest except for the inch it showed of my midsection and the slit up the thigh. The heels I wore were clear and sparkly, lacing halfway up my calves to show off my best feature. I was the queen of ponytails, but I chose to leave the straightened locks down, and as usual, I applied a light amount of makeup.I was ready an hour early and spent the rest of the time chewing my glossed lip and pacing back and forth. Nerves swamin my stomach, making me lightheaded. I should have eaten something earlier, but I had an unhealthy habit of forgetting until food was placed in front of me.I didn’t believe Ronan thought of this as a date, but I couldn’t stop the whisper of anticipation that tightened my lungs. A very stupid, romantic part of me had hearts in her eyes. Never mind the fact I was soon to accept an archaic proposal from a man who was probably screwing some Texan oil heir
Latest chapter
Lost in Moscow's Secret 63
MILAEIGHT HOURS LATER, I GLANCED out the window of the private jet. “Ronan . . . did Moscow get an Eiffel Tower of its own recently?” “I would never allow that kind of romantic tourismin my city.” “Huh,” I mused. “So why amI seeing the Eiffel Tower right now?” “We’re in Paris,” he said indifferently. And that had been his attitude the entire flight: indifferent. He and those stupid “Delicious!” sounds coming from his phone were driving me crazy. Albert wasn’t any better company. He was flipping through a Cosmo in the row of seats at the front of the plane. I hadn’t seen Ronan in four months. I’d been burning up for eight hours waiting for him to touch me, kiss me, and drag me to the convenient bed in the back. But he hadn’t done any of that. When I got tired of waiting, I’d straddled his lap, ran my lips down his neck, and cupped his erection as it grew harder beneath my hand. I thought I was finally going to get what I wanted, but then he shoved me off
Lost in Moscow's Secret 62
ITOOK A LYFT RIDE to pick up Khaos on my way to The Moorings. Sweet Emma’s hair was sticking out in every direction when she calmly told me, “Maybe this isn’t the best place for him.”Khaos came to sit by my side, acting as innocent as could be, but one of the cats shooting a glare at himwas missing a large tuft of fur.I apologized profusely, feeling awful for leaving Khaos with Emma. Though I knew he wouldn’t do well in a boarding kennel. I had no idea what to do with himthe next time I had to leave, but I had two weeks to think about it before my next international shoot in Jamaica.On the way to The Moorings, I thought of Madame Richie and her stupid tarot card. I mentally tried to figure out the odds of her drawing that card. I imagined all kinds of crazy ideas—like she’d watched me frombehind trees for years and then played The Devil to unsettle me.Frustrated with my musings, I exhaled and told myself it was just a coincidence. A freaky coi
Lost in Moscow's Secret 61
MILA I SHOULD HAVE KNOWN IT wouldn’t be so easy to get rid of Ronan. He might not be in the hospital room with me physically, but his presence was everywhere. After the doctors examined me, I often thought they rushed out of the room, phones to their ears, to update himon my condition. Only D’yavol would receive that sort of hasty, nervous response. The first conscious day in the hospital, a boy delivered a mini fridge full of vegan meals, a bag of dog food, and a note. Eat. —Ronan I would have rolled my eyes at the demand a couple of weeks ago, but this time, it brought a smile to my lips and a throb to my heart. Ronan had pulled some strings threatened someone to allow Khaos to stay with me, and I knew it because a dog’s portrait in the universal red no-entry sign decorated the wall outside my room. The gesture filled me with relief, because I didn’t think I could handle being alone with my thoughts right now. Khaos was the
Lost in Moscow's Secret 60
THE GUNSHOT WOUND IN MY arm throbbed and bled through my shirt. I must have busted some stitches open when I punched Alexei. And then Albert, who simply opened the car door for me after Mila dismissed me from her life. I didn’t know how to get rid of this irritable, edgy sensation beneath my skin besides violence—and even that didn’t release the tight, hollow ache in my chest.It felt like she was stealing something fromme. Pain I could stand.Robbery I could not.“I flew back for ‘important’business just to watch you silently muse on all your life choices,” my brother said in Russian, sitting on my office couch. “Care to share?”I didn’t know how to explain the feeling in any other way, so I sat back in my chair and said, “She stole fromme.”He raised a brow. “Your pet?” “Her name is Mila,” I growled.Kristian sipped the vodka in his glass, trying to conceal a smile. “So what’d she take? You do have some nice crystal glasses.”
Lost in Moscow's Secret 59
MILAI’D ONCE THOUGHT RONAN WOULD let me drown; that he would watch me sink, curly hair floating and aglow. But in the end, it was his voice that dragged me fromthe darkness.“Prosnis’, Mila.” Wake up. “Goddammit, prosnis’.”Ronan had demanded so much fromme since we met—so many orders he was confident would be met—but this request held a vulnerable crack. It wasn’t a demand at all. It was a need.I found another weakness. He was weak for me.Drawing in a shallow breath, I struggled to open my eyes. I forced themopen and saw I was lying on the floor of a moving car that vibrated beneath me. Yellow and red. My new coat was ruined, the faux fur matted with streaks of blood. Crimson-soaked bandages lay discarded around me. My shirt was torn open, and the sight of the hole gushing blood in my stomach made me so dizzy I was almost pulled under again. Though Ronan’s voice as he snapped something at Albert grounded me.My eyes lifted to Ronan, who ripped
Lost in Moscow's Secret 58
MILARAIN DRIPPED DOWN THE CAR window, blurring my view of remote Russia as Albert drove us to our destination. Snow capped the pine trees, outlined the horizon, and covered the ground.The winter wonderland melted and turned to mud in front of my eyes.My mind returned to an hour before, when Ronan slipped my arms into a mysterious yellow faux fur coat. I hadn’t said a word as he zipped it up before sliding my feet into a new pair of ankle boots. I hadn’t realized how dirty and worn my others were until then. He rose to his full height, pulled my hair out frombeneath my coat, and said, “Poydem.” Let’s go.Outside, I turned to give the house one last look and saw the menacing stone fortress in a different light. It was where Yulia’s eccentricity dwelled. Where Polina’s shouts and home-cooked meals could be found. Where rumpled black sheets lay undisturbed. Where doors, mirrors, and hearts were broken. And where sparks were made . . .
Lost in Moscow's Secret 57
“MAYBE I COULD BACKPACK ACROSS Europe,” I announced.Head resting on his paws, Khaos looked unimpressed with the idea. I’d snuck him in through the back door and up to my room. If this was my last night here, I didn’t want to spend it alone. Khaos had secured a decent chunk of my bed and was already shedding everywhere. I loved it.Even after learning what my papa did for business, it was hard to see him in a different light than the father who washed my hair when I was a child. I couldn’t deal with the thought of him dying tomorrow or the truth of my mother, so I focused on the things I could control.Lying on my stomach, I rested my chin on my hand. “I suppose you need some kind of monetary support to backpack—or at least a talent and a hat.” I sighed, depressed. “I don’t have either of those.”“What about college?” I perked up. “Maybe I could get a scholarship. I am a little bit smart— book-wise at least. I can’t say I’m street smart, or I obviously wouldn’t be here . . . But if I
Lost in Moscow's Secret 56
This was the first time I’d ever had the urge to stab someone with a fork. Instead, I brushed her hand off mine before her fakeness rubbed off on me.“I’mnot the one doing the subjecting here. Captive, remember?”She frowned. “Obviously, the staff feels bad for you . . . Just think of the hassle your diet must put on poor Polina. She is getting older and . . . larger every day.” Nadia shot a glance at Gianna’s belly. “No offense, of course.”“Mamma isn’t fat!” Kat yelled before anyone else could get a word in. “She’s growing my brother. And you’re rude!”“Kat, what did I tell you?” Gianna chided with a small smile.The little girl’s scowl at Nadia faded, then she mimicked the feigned look of pity she’d observed countless times this morning. “I’msure you’re only so rude because of lots of past ’motional trauma.” Then she added, “No offense, of course.”It was a violent struggle not to laugh knowing she got that “emotional trauma” bit from Ronan earlier. Nadia’s eyes narrowed, about to
Lost in Moscow's Secret 55
MILAYULIA STOPPED ME IN THE doorway of my bedroom, giving me a derisive perusal from my head to my toes.“We have guests,” she said sternly. “You must do something with your”—she flicked a hand at my chest—“bosom.”I looked down at said bosom and saw nothing wrong with it. I was even wearing pants for a change—high-waisted bell bottoms. One would think Yulia would take that as a win. I knew Ronan would.I lifted my gaze to hers. “They’ve been called ‘boobs’for decades, FYI. And considering the fact I was tied to a bed naked the last time we had guests, I find your request a bit hypocritical.”She put her bony hands on her hips. “That was only in guest room. You were not flaunting your bosomaround the house.”Spread-eagled naked for guests to see in the guest room:Not wearing a bra beneath my T-shirt downstairs: Made sense.I sighed. “What would you like me to do with my bosom, Yulia?”“Strap it in a bra,” she said as if it was obvious. “And not some see-through thing only meant to
