Total pages in book: 163
Estimated words: 157491 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 787(@200wpm)___ 630(@250wpm)___ 525(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 157491 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 787(@200wpm)___ 630(@250wpm)___ 525(@300wpm)
“Isla,” I say with a sigh. “I know that. I also know your happiness is important to him.”
“What if you make me happy?” she counters.
“He’d tell you that effect would only be in my power for a short time.”
“Maybe a short time is all I’m interested in, too.”
That was not the answer I’d expected, but I notice how she circles her thumb with her forefinger anxiously. That she’d find bravery in her want of me is more than flattering. But Alexander knows of my proclivities, just as I know of his. The thought of telling him I’d like to spend time with his sister doesn’t exactly appeal to me. I don’t have a sister, but I can’t imagine it would be very pleasant to glance at her over the lunch table having some idea of what your best friend enjoys doing to her in bed.
“His objection to that would be more about me than you,” I eventually answer.
She lowers her hand to her lap when she notices my glance. “I don’t require his consent.”
“It’s a question of respect.”
“Retain his respect to lose mine, you mean?”
“It’s complicated,” I argue. “Risky.” And not just because of Alexander.
“Niko, I’m not proposing! Did you ever consider Sandy might like you so much he’d be pleased for me to spend time with you?”
“He likes me, yes. He knows me. If I told him what transpired between us last week, I’d lose both his friendship and respect.”
“That you saved me?”
“That we almost fucked. Sisters are off-limits. It’s just the way it is.”
She picks up her glass, trying to mask her flare of annoyance.
“Kippis,” I say, raising my own in toast.
“That’s not Russian.” She narrows her gaze.
“It’s Finnish. My mother tongue.”
“Alexander didn’t mention that.”
“Because he doesn’t know.”
“Oh.” Conflicting emotions seem to come to life, then fade on her face. Confusion, surprise. A flicker of pleasure?
“Not many people know,” I add, gesturing with my glass to hers, not exactly certain why I’d mention any of this. Old news is not particularly interesting news.
“Vanyin is a Russian name?”
“Along with Nikolai. Only my mother called me Niko, which is also Finnish.” I’m not sure where the admission came from, to be honest. Perhaps because I want her admiration, and if I can’t earn it while she’s kneeling for me, I’ll gain it in other ways. “I don’t speak Finnish very often.”
“I don’t know any Finnish,” she murmurs.
“Do you know any Russian?” My mouth twists in wry amusement.
“Na zdarovye?” she answers with a tentative look as she lifts her glass. “That’s right, isn’t it?
“Boodym zdarovy,” I reply, correcting a common misconception. “To our health.”
As we each sip from our glasses a silence falls between us. It’s not uncomfortable exactly. More expectant. I can’t keep my eyes from her face. Meanwhile, hers make a very thorough inventory of me following the line of my shoulder, my bicep, sliding down my bared forearm.
“What did you do to your hand?”
“Tennis. I went in for a slide and ended up falling.” Curling my right fist, I glance at my bruised and swollen knuckles, then catch her studying my face. “It looks like I’ve been fighting, doesn’t it?”
“A little.”
It wasn’t so much a fight as a punishment. “Hard courts are pretty unforgiving.”
“It stings, of course,” she says suddenly. It takes me a beat to realize she isn’t talking about my hand.
“Alexander,” I discern, and she nods.
“Not that I’m not used to it, him being the heir after all. I suppose it makes me feel like the other woman when I find myself suggesting he doesn’t need to know.”
“Isla.” I sigh, despite what she’s offering. If only she were someone else’s sister. Anyone else’s sister. “I don’t have a lot of friends, and there are very few people in this world I respect. If we go out, you will tire of me”—of my secrets, of the way I’ll want to fuck and control—“and it won’t be a question of choosing sides for him.”
“You’re forgetting something. Sandy is an adult, too. He won’t need to choose. You’re his friend, and I’m his sister. Separate entities. And it’s not like we move in the same circles. There’d be no need for drop-dead glares at twenty paces if, when, it ends.”
I shake my head with a sad smile. Of course it would end. What she’s looking for, she won’t find with me. Stability. Normality. Kids, no doubt. A house in the country.
I swill the glass’s contents around the bowl, bringing it to my nose. “At university, I once heard one of our circle of friends ask Alexander how he might get to know you.” I glance up to find those eyes watching me intently. Does the shade change with her mood? “You were visiting, I think, and at first, mistaken for his latest…”
“Companion?” she offers up cheerfully. “Alexander doesn’t do the whole girlfriend thing.”