Total pages in book: 67
Estimated words: 65593 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 328(@200wpm)___ 262(@250wpm)___ 219(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 65593 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 328(@200wpm)___ 262(@250wpm)___ 219(@300wpm)
“I need to know where you are.”
“I’m at Nikolai’s. What’s your deal?”
“At his apartment?”
“Yes. His very lovely apartment. We’re making dinner—chicken with capers and olives. I’m fine. Everything is fine,” she says firmly. “I told you not to worry about me.”
Either Zane goes silent, or he’s speaking too quietly for me to overhear now.
No, he was silent because I hear him mutter something I can’t understand, and then she holds the phone away from her ear to look at the screen and shakes her head.
She turns back and meets my eye. “Zane has lost his mind.”
“What is it?” I’m on edge. There’s a prickle of warning running up my spine, but I don’t know how to interpret it. Chelle isn’t in danger from her brother.
Maybe I am.
Well, that’s fine. I can handle Zane, so long as I see him coming. He can’t get in the building without my permission, and I’m protected at the games. He won’t know where else to find me, unless Chelle tips him off.
“I don’t know. He was demanding to know where I was. And then he cursed and hung up.”
“He may want to kill me,” I say it mildly, but her eyes go round and wide. She looks back at her phone, then her thumbs start flying over her screen as she texts him something.
I decide not to be a dick and ask to see it.
The oven alarm goes off, and she startles, then pulls the chicken out using a dishrag. “You need hot mitts,” she tells me as she sets the tray on top of the stove.
“Order whatever you like,” I tell her again. She bustles around putting the rest of the dinner together, looking tense and unhappy.
I set the table and help with the salad. “Hey.” I rest my hands lightly on her waist from behind. “Don’t worry about Zane. I’ll handle him.”
She nods but doesn’t turn around.
I want to fix it, but I can’t. I’m the one who chose to use someone’s sister to pay off his debt. The deal was rotten from the start. Of course, we’ll all suffer the repercussions.
14
Chelle
After dinner, Nikolai tells me to put some clothes on.
“Are we going somewhere?”
“Yes. Down to the lake, so dress warmly.”
Warmth and something else—excitement, maybe—ricochet through me. I go to his bedroom to put on a pair of jeans and a warm sweater. This shouldn’t be so fun. Playing house with Nikolai.
The sex. Making dinner together. Now a walk by the lake. It feels romantic and sweet. Like he’s my boyfriend, not a guy I sold my body and soul to for the next month.
Is he trying to… woo me?
No, that’s ridiculous. Why would he? Except when I review everything that’s passed between us until now through that lens, it almost fits.
He took me home from the Red Room but refused to have sex with me. Like a gentleman. He wouldn’t take my car. Also, very gallant. He let me have the ring back with the payment of a single kiss. He came out to dinner with me—which was a huge favor for me to ask, considering we had no relationship. And then he wanted to be invited up.
That’s the single most damning piece of evidence I have.
He wanted to be invited up, but I refused, which seemed to hurt him. And then he offered me this deal.
My pulse races as I consider all these facts.
Does Nikolai actually like me?
For more than sex?
The idea thrills me, even as I throw up a dozen barriers around my heart. I can’t get involved with Nikolai.
As amazing as the sex is, and as much as he fascinates me, I would never, ever date a guy in the Russian mafiya.
I mean, never, ever, ever.
It was bad enough my dad was a gambler, but at least that was legal. I could never align myself with someone who does things that aren’t. Someone who operates from violence.
No. Nikolai is a dangerous man in an even more dangerous organization.
There’s no way I can even consider getting excited over the fact that he might like me.
Of course, the flutters and warmth zooming around in my chest don’t wait for permission to exist. I can’t control my way out of my own attraction to Nikolai.
I grab my jacket and emerge from the bedroom. When I pick up my purse, Nikolai takes it off my shoulder and sets it down. “You won’t need that.” He takes my hand. “Let’s go.”
I try to shut down the flutters as we take the elevator to the ground floor, but they refuse to obey. My body is alive at Nikolai’s nearness. My nerve endings tingling to be close to him. To breathe the faint scent of his soap and aftershave.
We get off on the ground floor and walk out to the lobby. The same tattooed guy is at the front desk as the first time I came to the Kremlin.