Total pages in book: 90
Estimated words: 88551 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 443(@200wpm)___ 354(@250wpm)___ 295(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 88551 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 443(@200wpm)___ 354(@250wpm)___ 295(@300wpm)
As soon as Adrian joins me and the guards take their seats up front, my stomach growls. The sound is so loud that Bulky Blond and Crooked Nose freeze.
I purse my lips, but I can feel the blood rising up my cheeks. Damn it. I’ve never been embarrassed about my hunger until this very moment.
Adrian’s calm gaze slides to me, unaffected—bored, even. I wonder if he ever gets mad, then immediately push that thought out of my mind. He’s terrifying in his calm mode, and I don’t want to imagine how he is when he’s angry.
“What do you want to eat?” he asks.
“I’m okay.”
He taps an index finger against his thigh before stopping. “You’re obviously hungry. Food comes with the deal, and, therefore, you don’t have to feel self-conscious asking for it.”
That’s right. It’s one of the main reasons I agreed to this in the first place.
“Anything.” My voice is just above a whisper.
“Anything isn’t food. Pick something.”
“I don’t care as long as it’s…food.”
“What if I get you fried cockroaches?”
My nose scrunches as I stare at him.
He raises a brow at my reaction. “You said anything.”
“Not that.”
“Then specify. If you don’t express yourself, you’ll get nothing from me.”
Wow. Is he always this…infuriating?
“A sandwich,” I snap and clamp my lips shut, hoping he didn’t catch it.
If he disapproves of my tone, he says nothing and, instead, addresses Crooked Nose in a foreign language that I assume is Russian.
He looks slightly different as he speaks in it, but not exactly in a better way. More like authoritative and non-negotiable. He gives off that vibe with his subtle Russian accent, too, but it’s clearer with his mother tongue. It could be because I don’t speak the language, though.
Crooked Nose nods, then steps out. After ten minutes of utter silence, he comes back with a takeout bag. My mouth waters at the smell of hot bread and fresh vegetables. I wish Larry were here with me; he usually steals sandwiches for me and I share, but he always says he’s full. He doesn’t like me stealing alcohol, but he’s fine with stealing food. That old man has a warped sense of morality.
However, none of the sandwiches he’s brought me have ever smelled this divine. Like it’s right out of an oven.
My stomach growls again, and this time, I don’t try to hide it.
Crooked Nose hands the bag to Adrian, not me. Neither he nor Bulky Blond look in my direction.
Adrian opens the bag and hands me the sandwich. I don’t even pause to see what’s inside it. I bite straight into it, filling my mouth in one go. It melts on my tongue and I don’t properly chew before gulping it down.
I’m about to take another bite when it’s pulled from my fingers.
“W-what—” I stare incredulously at the perpetrator, Adrian, who snatched my sandwich. Please don’t tell me he bought me food just to take it away.
“Eat slower or you’ll get indigestion.” He tears off a piece and places it in front of my mouth. I try to take it from him, but he shakes his head.
I really don’t care about the method as long as I eat right now, so I open wide and let him put it in my mouth. As soon as it’s inside, I swallow it in one go.
“Slower,” he repeats, more firmly this time. “Chew first.”
It’s then I realize that we’re actually moving. I’ve been so focused on the sandwich that I lost all awareness of my surroundings.
Except for Adrian.
One way or another, he’s been present ever since I first met him. He’s a quiet force that slowly creeps under my skin and leaves me panting for more—or less. Either way, he’s there, under my skin, and it’s impossible to breathe without feeling his presence.
It’s baffling to think I’ve lived twenty-seven years and have never experienced such intensity. Such…raw, quiet display of power.
I’ve always thought those in power ensured it by brute methods, that they killed or schemed. That they were loud and barked orders—like Richard. Adrian is the complete opposite of that notion—he’s silent, calm, but exudes an authority so raw, it’s even more terrifying than those with loud power.
When Adrian gives me another piece of the sandwich, I chew, letting the spicy taste explode in my mouth. It’s rich and exquisite and might very well be the most delicious meal I’ve had in…ever.
I don’t protest as he continues to feed me, his fingers brushing against my lips with each bite. He has really masculine fingers—long, lean, and calloused enough to cause a weird sensation whenever they meet my skin—no matter how brief the contact.
He’s patient, not attempting to hurry the process, as if he has all the time in the world to feed me. He fixes me with a disapproving stare, pausing when I don’t chew long enough or when I do it fast, and that’s my cue to slow down or he’ll take my meal away.