Total pages in book: 126
Estimated words: 118309 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 592(@200wpm)___ 473(@250wpm)___ 394(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 118309 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 592(@200wpm)___ 473(@250wpm)___ 394(@300wpm)
“Wonderful. What name is on the booking?”
I remove the reservation Zoya pulled out of her pocket during our trek across the elegant foyer before handing it to the clerk. “Nikita Hoffman. Doctor Nikita Hoffman.”
“Welcome, Dr. Hoffman.” The clerk dips her head in greeting before punching my name into the computer.
I hold my breath, convinced we are seconds from being asked to leave.
My worry isn’t warranted.
After a handful of taps, the clerk says, “We have you as our guest for three nights. Is that correct?”
“Yes. We leave Sunday.”
“Wonderful.” She bounces her eyes between a still-frozen Zoya and me. “How many keycards would you like for your room?”
“Two, please,” I reply after ribbing Zoya, soundlessly requesting that she get with the program. She looks like she’s seen a ghost. Her cheeks are as white as my legs, and her pupils are massive. “Does this hotel offer a buffet breakfast?”
When the clerk nods, I slip her a twenty with the hope it will get us on the buffet list for free.
She peers down at the crinkled note before returning her eyes to my face. “That isn’t necessary.” My disappointment doesn’t linger for long. “Breakfast is included with your reservation.”
With Zoya back on planet Earth, she taps the low-five I’m holding out for her. With breakfast included, we won’t need to purchase hardly any meals during our mini getaway. Smuggled muffins and yogurt aren’t a feast fit for a king, but they’ll get us through the day with only the slightest grumbles from our stomachs.
“The elevators are left of the bar.” The clerk slips two keycards into a mini envelope before handing it to me. “You will need to scan your card to select your floor.” Her eyes once again bounce between Zoya and me. “If you need anything during your stay, my cell number is on the back of your keycard.”
Surprise resonates in my tone. “Great. Thank you.”
She smiles before asking if we need a bellhop to assist with our luggage.
“No. This is it.” I gesture to my carry-on and Zoya’s luggage, now housed in a garbage bag. “This is all we have.”
The clerk hides her grimace well, but I don’t need to see it to know of its arrival.
Eager to leave before we get any more looks of pity, I slip the keycard envelope into my pocket before helming our walk to the elevators.
The further we walk, the more fraudulent I feel. This place is impressive, with vaulted ceilings, chandeliers, and the aroma of wealth.
I hope one day to match the level of sophistication in this room, but I don’t know if I will ever become accustomed to it. I didn’t lie when I hinted to Maksim that I want my heart to be my only greedy organ.
“Shit,” I mumble under my breath when a co-rider in the packed elevator asks what floor we need. She is closest to the panel, so she’s hogging it like it’s a slice of my grandmother’s famous ptichye moloko. “I didn’t check the room number the clerk wrote down.”
“The ninetieth floor,” announces a voice at the back before he leans over my shoulder to scan his room card and select the button at the top of many.
Even if I hadn’t recognized his commanding rumble, there’s no way I could mistake his scent—even more so since his cologne is now mixed with my perfume.
I’m proud that I make it to floor thirty-three before my curiosity gets the better of me.
I only peer back at Maksim for a second, but my gawk is long enough to announce he’s replaced the button-up shirt I stuffed on top of my clothes a second before they commenced deboarding the plane.
He must travel with a selection of shirts, because this is the third one he’s donned in less than twenty-four hours.
With the turmoil in Maksim’s eyes as strong as it was in the seconds prior to him leaving me in the washroom, I return my focus front and center.
Not even a nanosecond later, Zoya leans into my side and whispers, “He wants to fuck you.” She’s quiet, but not enough for a lady with a hearing aid and an apparent disdain for personal space.
The hotel guest who popped my bubble within a second of entering the elevator coughs to demand our attention before she hits us with a cranky glare.
Over narrow-minded people, I crank my neck to Zoya and say, “He did.” I don’t care that we have eavesdroppers. I’m too confused to continue going at it alone. I need help, and who better to get that from than my best friend? “But he doesn’t seem interested anymore.”
“Because…?” Zoya leaves her question open for me to finish on her behalf.
“Because…” I’m clueless. Maksim announced at the start of our exchange that he used my face as inspiration while masturbating the past two weeks, but then he left me on the edge of orgasmic bliss instead of helping me over it. “Because he’s a… patient’s son?” My confusion makes the last half of my reply sound like a question.