Total pages in book: 75
Estimated words: 69662 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 348(@200wpm)___ 279(@250wpm)___ 232(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 69662 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 348(@200wpm)___ 279(@250wpm)___ 232(@300wpm)
But then again, I wasn’t the same woman I was when I started. I had no fond memories of my mother to continue to want me to live out her legacy.
So I went down a new path, made my own story, and now was the proud owner of a small studio that specialized in music and dance therapy.
I was in the process of getting more certifications and training, and even started some online classes for my degree in therapy.
It was a long road and wouldn’t happen overnight, but I had a good start with my background. And helping others find their strengths through their trauma, letting the music and dance flow through them and heal them from the inside out, was just as much for me as it was for them.
I hadn’t spoken to Timur since we left him in Vladimir’s office, but I was pretty sure Kostya spoke with him every now and then given they still ran in the same dangerous circles. I’d caught him a few times on the phone cursing out whoever was on the other end—Timur, presumably—and caught the tail end of a conversation in which Kostya told the other person he’d never see me again so stop asking or he’d cut off his tongue.
Life certainly wasn’t boring.
After grabbing the bag of takeout I picked up on the way home, I made my way toward the porch but stopped and looked at all we accomplished in just a short amount of time.
We moved out of the city and had gotten a small piece of property with an older house on it. Although we certainly weren’t hurting for money, not with my inheritance from my family, and then finding out that Kostya had so much money he probably could have bought the city of Desolation, we’d decided to buy this fixer-upper.
And that was what we’d done over the last six months. Our home certainly wasn’t extravagant, but it was ours and out of the grit and dirt of the city, away from the crime and hollowness that seemed to cling to Desolation and the surrounding area.
I stepped inside and immediately heard the deep bass of the stereo system in the basement coming through the floorboards. Kostya spent his time when we weren’t together working out in the completely renovated basement that he had turned into a personal gym.
And although he wasn’t fighting in the underground circuit anymore, I could sense this routine was still very much a part of him.
After setting my bags down and toeing off my shoes, I made my way to the basement, opened the heavy soundproof door Kostya had installed to mute the noise, and descended the stairs.
We’d immediately started doing work on the house as soon as we’d moved in. Whereas I did all the decorating and adding my personal touch to it, Kostya dealt with any major issues like flooring and windows, any big fixes, and updating the appliances. He also went the more hardcore route of installing the security.
Exterior infrared cameras. Industrial-sized locks on the doors. Even a tripwire set up around the property. Although Kostya had called it “necessary,” I thought the panic room he installed in the master suite was a bit much, even overkill.
But if it made him feel more secure, who was I to judge or think he was being over the top and totally overprotective?
The door at the bottom of the stairs was open, and I leaned against the frame. The room was twelve hundred square feet of a gym nut’s fantasy.
With an array of weights, blue mats scattered along the floor, and a bunch of other machinery that I couldn’t even begin to name, Kostya had his own professionally styled workout center right in our house.
I sighed out a very feminine sigh and felt my body instantly heat as I just appreciated the view.
He was in the center of the room bouncing around on the balls of his feet as he ducked and dodged the swinging red punching bag, slamming his fist into it over and over again.
He wore nothing but a pair of black nylon shorts hung low on his muscular, cut hips. Sweat covered every inch of his exposed skin, dripping down his limbs and chest and falling to the floor. God, that was hotter than it should have been.
Even with his back, arms, and legs covered in tattoos, I could see his muscles bunching and constricting. He was so utterly masculine, so ultra-powerful that it was hard to not become instantly aroused.
I shifted on my feet and did nothing but watch him. This… this did it for me.
The music was so loud I couldn’t think. Then again, who needed to think about anything when you were watching that?
He slammed his fist powerfully against the punching bag it swung wildly back and forth. He stopped and reached out to grab it, steadying it, his chest rising and falling harshly as he caught his breath.