The Marriage (Darkest Lies Trilogy Book 3), Bethany-Kris [books for 8th graders txt] 📗

“So, what’s in it for you, April?” she asked.

Karine didn’t allow herself to get pulled into the rushing current that was her thoughts. Her mind was a dangerous place, and more so, one she wasn’t sure she could currently control. As long as she didn’t go there—

“Are you listening to me?”

April.

Right.

Karine blurted that name when she’d arrived on the madame’s doorstep. “What do you mean?”

“Why are you doing this—why are you working with Maxim Yazov?” Cherie asked. “Anyone who knows anything in this city should be all too aware that it could be risky business at the moment. From the rumors ... well, he shouldn’t even be alive.”

Karine couldn’t take her eyes off herself once her gaze landed back on the mirror. She didn’t like the blonde, and didn’t recognize herself with the hair let down so long.

“Why are you?”

Cherie grinned at the sudden question. On the second day of her arrival, the woman had admitted to Karine that she seemed like just the type.

Her words, not Karine’s.

Already broken, easily manipulated, a perfect girl to make money off men who meant nothing. Karine wasn’t entirely sure what that said about her. Or if it said more about Cherie, and what was really going on with her stable of women at her every beck and call.

Maybe that was why Karine wasn’t entirely surprised to hear Cherie’s barked laugh before she told her, “Well, he’s in the way, and then there’s the money—I couldn’t very well say no.”

*

A good madame always knew her Johns. Cherie was no exception, and she’d been right. Dima sent a dark limousine to the townhouse to pick up his new girl before his flight had even landed. In the air, he’d made arrangements.

It screamed control.

Karine wondered what kind of mood the man must be in to immediately want a woman to either break or enjoy—likely both, in a twisted way—in his bed the very second he arrived back in the city after being in New York.

Not a good mood, she suspected.

Karine wasn’t a liar, but it was all she could do to maintain her calm composure. She even dared to listen to the vicious, victorious whispers of Katina who only had one thing to say.

We’re going to end this, Karine ... we have to end this.

Cherie came with her, riding in the backseat together to the estate he had successfully bid on and purchased the month before, according to the woman who supplied his steady stream of pussy.

Was it possible that the only reason Maxim’s plan might work was because of Dima’s predictability?

It’s not that easy, she knew.

Karine still had to finish it.

Neither woman spoke much on the drive. Karine was lost, toeing the cruel edge of her thoughts just enough to hear what she wanted, but reject the pressing urge of her fear to take control.

What happened tonight if this did work? Would Karine really be free, like her father promised—what did that even mean now?

“Are you going to be able to handle this?”

Cherie’s voice interrupted Karine’s peace, mere minutes before they entered the gates to the suburban estate just outside city limits.

Maybe the woman had sensed Karine’s fragility—she bet that was exactly why Cherie was as revered as she was feared by her girls. She knew right where it hurt, and the quickest way to find it.

The thing was ... Karine already hurt everywhere. She was getting really tired of that pain being poked.

She smiled, reaching for the hat that sat between them on the car’s backseat, and fixed it on her head. The floppy brim covered half her face. For too long, she’d used a mask to hide away from things she didn’t want to face. For the first time, Karine was exactly where she wanted to be, doing just what she needed to do.

Even if it terrified her.

“Of course, I can handle this,” Karine replied just as fast. “The question is—can you?”

*

The men who led them into the house said very little, while Karine didn’t even bother looking around. She had no interest in assessing the lay of the land when her task there was the only thing she was interested in.

To be left completely alone with Dima.

She couldn’t help but notice how Cherie and the men at the large estate moved around one another like they had done this dance before. From how they opened the limo door, to the curt nod each man passed the madame when they had walked through the front doors. The place did need some work, as the gate was broken, and the driveway had cracks in the asphalt.

The inside was about the same.

Old.

Tired.

He won’t think twice about it, Cherie had told Karine on the way over about her coming along. It’s the only way I can get a girl back in a livable piece as it is with the asshole.

Karine didn’t ask for more details.

She didn’t really need to, though.

Cherie remained downstairs while one of the men gestured for Karine to follow. She gave the madame one last look as she was led up a winding, metal staircase to the second floor of the quiet mansion.

She could still hear the woman’s warnings from earlier in the car.

Don’t meet his gaze.

Do what he says, he won’t suspect a thing.

He usually starts with a belt ...

Karine had counted every step. Across the entry, up the stairs, and even down a long corridor until they stood outside a door to a room where she could hear some muffled sound. Every fourth step, she’d taken a breath.

She needed to remind herself to do it.

And why she was here ...

For Roman.

For her sister.

God ... for herself.

She didn’t bother to peer beyond the brim of the floppy hat to see the face of the man who directed her where to stand. She was too busy remembering the way her sister had begged that night, and how much Dima enjoyed it.

The man knocked hard on the door. Dima’s voice came through. Commanding. Grotesque.

Dull.

She didn’t expect him to