Total pages in book: 95
Estimated words: 89090 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 445(@200wpm)___ 356(@250wpm)___ 297(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 89090 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 445(@200wpm)___ 356(@250wpm)___ 297(@300wpm)
Whoever thought you could use foreign when referencing someone’s freedom?
Annika is so used to jumping on cue that something as simple as yawning sees her leaping into action to turn down Yev’s sheets. She often forgets she is Yev’s visitor, not his slave.
Yev ends my campaign with nine little words. “You go, I go. It’s as simple as that.”
After winking at the softening of my features that announces my defeat, he jots down a note for Annika on the envelope he didn’t open until after the news was delivered in person three days ago, replaces his shirt with a freshly laundered one, then guides me to the elevator with his hand on the small of my back. “You better get used to having me around, Polly, because I’m never letting you out of my sight.”
With my mood a little unhinged after an email I wanted to delete the instant I opened it, I get snappy, “And how will you do that while couriering drugs across the country for Maksim?”
I hate my tone. I am no better than him. I dressed trafficked women for sale, for crying out loud. I’m just being a hormonal cow who doesn’t understand there is a heap of work Yev can do while both grieving and endeavoring to keep his promise to me.
“I’m sorry. I shouldn’t judge.”
When the elevator dings, announcing its arrival, Yev guides me inside while muttering, “It’s not judging when it’s true.” He continues talking before I can muster up a lie to excuse my bitchiness. “And that’s why I denied his offer. I can’t exactly whine about people being fucked in the head while supplying the drug causing their psychosis. That would be hypocritical.”
I’m proud of him, but I am also worried for him. He can’t hide his overdue bills in a drawer forever, and I don’t have enough funds in my account to sneakily pay them. “Is there anything else up your sleeve you’re considering?”
He only found out three days ago he’s going to be an uncle. He won’t want to stay unemployed for long.
“I’ve got a handful of options I’m pondering, but one is standing out above the rest.” Sparks of the Yev who forever taunted Alek shines through when he mutters under his breath, “I’ve heard there is a ton of money to be made in the fashion industry.”
I helm our walk through the foyer of his building while replying, “I’ve witnessed firsthand how you take measurements, and I’m way too possessive to encourage an advancement in that field.”
He throws his head back and laughs. It is still a wonderful surprise every time it happens. The past week has been a rollercoaster of emotions, but not all the ebbs and flows solely belong to Yev. Some are mine. “What if I promise to keep my measuring tape inside my pants?”
I roll my eyes, hiding the disappointment flaring through them before muttering that I’ll think about it.
When Yev mentally throws a fist in the air, I mutter, “That wasn’t a yes.”
He pffts me before reminding me that Nat is a female version of him. “I’ll think about it is a yes just as much as a maybe…”
“It’s the third door on the left.” Nat waits for Yev to acknowledge her directions before she pivots on her feet to face me. Even with us slugging it out the past couple of hours, her mouth is gaped wide, and her eyes are glistening with mischievousness.
“Don’t start.”
“I didn’t say anything,” she replies, following me around the boutique that is magically still in one piece.
“You don’t need to speak for me to hear your dirty thoughts.” I wiggle my hand around her face. “They’re all displayed here.”
“So that’s why men follow me around the club like lost puppies?” She laughs at my immature eye roll before saying with a sigh, “I just need to find one who’s super squishy on the inside but rough and rugged on the outside. Does Yev have a brother?” She regrets her question the instant it leaves her mouth. “I’m a complete idiot. Will you forgive me?”
How could I say no to that adorable face?
She doesn’t fake remorse. It is downright genuine.
“How could I not? You’ve practically run this place yourself the past week, and it’s not a pile of ash and rubble.”
“It was a close call the first day,” she admits, “but I’ve had help.”
“From whom?”
Before she can answer me, the bell above the door chimes. I swear I locked it in preparation for us to go to lunch, but with the trade slow, I excitedly welcome the person I’m praying has deep pockets. “Good afternoon. Is there anything I can help you…” The remainder of my greeting sticks in the back of my throat when my eyes lock onto the man entering my store. “Vasily… ah… what are you doing here?”