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)
“Do you really need to ask?” He moseys in like he owns the place, his mood pompous and over the top. After taking in the new arrivals rack, he drags his eyes down Nat’s frozen form before slowly shifting on his feet to face me. “Not only is your agreement with that imbecile finally over, but you’ve also not returned any of my calls.”
“Because I’ve been busy,” I snap out, frustrated he thinks he can talk down to Yev. Yev may be a decade younger than him, but he is far more a man than Vasily will ever be.
While fighting the snarl forming on his lips, he spits out, “Doing?”
The simplicity of his question shouldn’t remind me that the tension bristling between us could be ten times more awkward if my newest recruit was to leave the storeroom before he finishes rearranging the stacks Nat toppled over yesterday, but it does.
I’ve only been “doing” one thing the past week.
It wasn’t working.
When I silently plead for Nat to keep Yev occupied until I get Vasily out of the store, she folds her arms over her chest and shakes her head.
She’s as anal as Yev about me being alone with Vasily.
She doesn’t trust him as far as she can throw him.
After hitting Nat with a look that warns there will be a penalty for her denial, I shift my focus back to Vasily. “We had a large number of orders arrive at once. Inventory has been a nightmare.”
I laugh when he asks, “Do you want me to help?”
“And get your hands dirty? We know that isn’t how you operate.”
He nips my attitude in the bud in an instant. “I guess that’s true. I’m more an injury-by-papercut kind of guy.” He wets his lips before breaking them into an arrogant smirk. “Talking about paperwork, how’s yours going? Any news about your father?”
You’d swear he has access to my inbox from his haughty grin.
My father’s recent visa application was denied this morning.
It’s another reason today has been such a struggle.
Upon spotting my downcast face, Vasily tries to act like he could care about someone other than himself. He rubs my arm soothingly. “I tried, but you know what my father is like. He only helps the people he considers family.” He leans in so close his hot breaths batter my lips. “You’re not family… yet.” His almost black eyes bounce between mine as he says, “But you could be. You’ve just got to stop playing in the minors and step up to the big leagues, and then that branch will extend to everyone in your inner circle.” He already has me clutched by the throat, but he goes for the knockout. “Even your father.” I realize he knows far more than a standard internet search when he says, “I thought you wanted him to meet his little girl in person?”
“I do.”
“Then stop acting like a spoiled little brat and do what needs to be done.” He nudges his head to a black sedan parked outside. “If you come with me now, we could salvage this.”
“I can’t go with you.”
He’s pissed about the disgust on my face, but his tone hides that. “Why not?”
“Because I—”
“Became a whore who only cares about herself?”
My slap sounds like the crack of a whip, but it doesn’t budge Vasily’s fat head an inch.
He stares me down while cutting my ego to shreds. “Your father will be so disappointed of the woman you’ve become, especially when he finds out who kept this place open during the recession.” As he gleams about the wetness brimming in my eyes, he continues to punish me for my mistakes with snarled words. “Maybe it’s best for him to stay where he is. I doubt he’d let you near your baby sister when he learns about the bad influences you class as friends. Drug runners, sex-trafficking pimps, and men stupid enough to participate in an illegal fight circuit even knowing their actions were being taped.” His laugh is mocking, and it rips through me. “Some were even dumb enough to fight twice. What did the district attorney call the charges he’s considering having drawn up?” He taps his fat lips. “Aggravated assault on a vulnerable victim.” He peers at Nat, then back at me. “Supposedly IQ testing has more standing than university placements. It can verify if victims are of sound mind to make life-altering decisions for themselves.”
“You rigged that fight.” I breathe out slowly. “So if anyone should be prosecuted, it should be you.”
I could slap him again when he says, “Who said I rigged the fight? I wasn’t even in attendance, and you won’t find a second of footage that says otherwise, or a witness willing to come forward.” Aware he has me on a cliff’s edge, he offers me a final lifeline. “But all this could go away in an instant. You just need to get in my car.”