Beautiful Chains (Molotov Betrothal #2) Read Online Anna Zaires

Categories Genre: Alpha Male, Contemporary, Dark, Mafia Tags Authors: Series: Molotov Betrothal Series by Anna Zaires

Total pages in book: 60
Estimated words: 56201 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 281(@200wpm)___ 225(@250wpm)___ 187(@300wpm)

Alexei Leonov. My stalker. My captor. And now, my husband. On a yacht in the middle of the Pacific, he is the source of and solace from my suffering. He will stop at nothing until I’m bound to him in every way. And marriage is only the beginning. Alexei
For eleven years, I’ve plotted and waited, consumed with fantasies of what it would be like once Alina Molotova was finally mine. Now that I have her, my obsession with her is only getting stronger. My plans for her may be ruthless, but I’ll do whatever it takes to chain her to me—mind, body, and heart. Only, there’s one thing I didn’t count on. One variable I didn’t plan for. The twisted hand of fate.

*************FULL BOOK START HERE*************



25 Years Earlier, Moscow

“‘—And that’s when the young prince saw the beautiful princess.’”

Mama pauses in her reading, and I shift uncomfortably, my bottom sore and aching from Papa’s belt. She glances at me and pushes herself up to sit straighter against the piled-up pillows. Her mountain of a belly moves with her, as big as the tower in the book she’s reading.

It’s so big I might be able to fit in there, and I’m already five. Or if not me, then my little brother, Ruslan. He’s only three.

“Want me to stop reading so you can go play?” Mama asks softly as I lay my hand on that huge belly in the hopes of feeling my baby sister kick. She does that a lot lately.

“No, keep going,” I say and nestle closer to Mama. She’s been on “bed rest” forever, ever since my baby sister crawled into her stomach and made her sick. Because I’m grown, I remember a time when things were different, when Mama bathed us and played with us, but Ruslan doesn’t. He thinks it’s always been like this, that Mama has always been this unmoving mound of a person who can kiss us, and read books to us, and that’s about it.

Mama smiles and wraps her soft arm around me as she turns the page. “All right, darling, let’s continue.” Her voice takes on the dramatic cadence I love. “‘The princess lived in a tower surrounded by dragons. Her father, the king, locked her in there because he wasn’t a nice man. He didn’t care that the princess wasn’t happy living there all by herself, so when the young prince came to ask for her hand in marriage, the king refused. He said—’”

“Why did he refuse?” I interrupt. I’ve asked this before—Mama has read this story to me many times—but I still want to hear her answer. “And why was he not nice?”

What I really want to know is whether the king used his belt to punish the princess, the way Papa does with me and Ruslan. But that question might upset Mama, and her doctor said she’s not allowed to get upset or she’ll die. That’s why I haven’t told her that Papa punished me today for breaking the old Chinese vase in the living room. She doesn’t like it when Papa uses his belt, and she also doesn’t like it when I behave badly. I actually wasn’t at fault this time, but I can’t tell her that without Papa finding out the truth. It was Ruslan who broke the vase, but when Papa asked us about it in that scary voice of his, my brother started crying and I told Papa that I did it.

I’m bigger and stronger, so the belt doesn’t hurt me as much.

“The king refused because he didn’t think the young prince was good enough for his daughter,” Mama replies, giving me the same answer as before. “As to why the king wasn’t nice, well, darling… some men just aren’t. They’re born that way.”

Like Papa.

I want to say that, but it might upset Mama. She doesn’t like it when anyone says anything bad about him. I know because she fired Kristen, our American nanny, for calling Papa “abusive.” I don’t know what that means, but it must be bad because Mama liked it that Kristen was teaching us English. Now Ruslan and I don’t have anyone to speak English with except my toy soldiers, and they don’t know it any better than I do.

“Ready to continue?” Mama asks, and I nod eagerly.

This is my favorite story, and even though I know every word and have learned to read it by myself, I like how Mama tells it best.

With a sigh, she keeps reading. “He said, ‘You are not worthy of my daughter. If you truly want her hand in marriage, you must first slay every dragon around her tower.’ The king knew the young prince wouldn’t be able to do that. There were dozens upon dozens of dragons—” She stops abruptly, and I feel her stiffen.

Worried, I sit up to look at her. “Mama?”

She takes a deep breath and lets it out slowly. “I’m okay. It’s okay. Come here.” She pats the blanket, and when I’m curled up against her again, she continues. “‘There were dozens upon dozens of dragons, each scarier than the next, and only the bravest, strongest man would be able to fight them—and even he would eventually lose.’”

“But the young prince didn’t lose,” I say, excitement fizzling through me. I know where the story is going, and it makes me want to jump up and down on the bed. I don’t do it, though. The doctor said if I jostle Mama too much, she will die and so will my baby sister.

Mama stiffens again, and when she speaks, her voice sounds different. Strained, like she’s having trouble going number two. “No, he didn’t lose. It took him many years, but he—” She groans and attempts to sit up higher against the pillows. “Darling, please get—ahhh!”