Total pages in book: 87
Estimated words: 82881 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 414(@200wpm)___ 332(@250wpm)___ 276(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 82881 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 414(@200wpm)___ 332(@250wpm)___ 276(@300wpm)
Considering he’s a man in his thirties, I wonder what would be his type of living hell. I hide the devilish smile as I type in Mariah Carey “All I Want for Christmas.” I lean back and pretend to enjoy it, watching River from my peripheral.
“I’m surprised you know a Christmas song, considering it’s the season of giving. Do you even know what that means, Anya?” he asks with a raised eyebrow.
I shift in my seat and prop my chin on the back of my hand as I lean back. “I’m well known for my ‘giving.’ It just so happens I deal a cruel hand.”
He smirks but makes no remark about the song, which pisses me off even more. I lean back over and play the Backstreet Boys.
“Classic, really, wouldn’t you say? Which was your favorite?” he asks, deadly serious. But I know he’s fucking with me.
“I prefer men, not boys,” I chide.
What else, what else?
I switch to Britney Spears.
“I feel like you and Britney would have much in common,” he remarks.
Oh, fuck off.
I switch the music off and peer outside the window. We’re definitely not going into the city. Instead, we’re surrounded by trees and ample plots of land. It begins to rain, and I sigh at the eerie pitch-black outside.
River laughs, and it fills the car enough to put the hairs on my arms on edge. I hate how my body so easily reacts to him without my consent.
I’m going to lose my fucking mind if I have to stay in this car with him much longer.
“His name is Igor, and he flew in to see what kind of deal I can offer him,” River says, and it offers a mild type of calm to my nerves. Business I can focus on.
“Flew in from where?” I ask.
“Russia,” he says casually.
I turn to him fully now, but he pays me no attention. I still entirely believe that River is a fuckhead, but I’ve come to learn that he’s a very intentional being. I can’t help but wonder if he’s taking me to meet with a Russian client because of my own heritage.
While our birth parents are both Russian, Alek and I were born here and only lived in Russia for three years before moving back to the States. It wasn’t long after we turned four that our parents fucked off and left us behind, giving us the jolly old time of being bounced around in foster care. No matter what, it was always Alek and me against the world. Then it was just our luck that we ended up with a lady who is also Russian, which is where I think we kept our accent from. But my knowledge of the Russian language is minimal, at best, so if he’s expecting some kind of translator, then he drew the short stick.
“Have you been back to Russia since your parents brought you back?” he asks, and a cold shudder runs through me. I hate that it feels like he can read my mind. That without words, he knows where my thinking has gone without knowing a lick about me. Then again, he probably had someone rake as much information about Alek and me as possible. Flattering.
“Let me guess, you have a little file on me and think you know everything about me?” I snark.
“No, Anya, it’s called polite conversation. You are Russian, aren’t you?” he says.
I look out the window again, my nose pointed high in the air. “I don’t do chitchat.” Silence fills the air, and I find myself adding, “I am. Russian, that is true.”
I’ve always been proud of who I am, even if I had to fight to become her.
“Maybe you’ll know him,” River suggests.
“I doubt it,” I say, bored as I play with my rings. Why is this drive taking so fucking long? I check the rearview mirror, and the boys are still following.
I then twist, squeezing my tits together so he has a perfect view down my dress. I smile sweetly when his gaze flicks between me and the road.
“Anya,” he warns with a growl, and it runs shudders up my arms. A curiosity spreads through my core, and I bite my bottom lip.
“So when do you plan to fuck me?” I ask.
I just need to let this guy stick his cock in me once, right?
His gaze lands on my cleavage once again, and I notice how his grip tightens on the steering wheel. He grabs his cock to shift it uncomfortably. A womanly pride runs through me. Men are all the same, and so easy. I’m not better than a man with my sexual demands, and that’s why it always works in my favor.
“As beautiful as you are, I won’t be fucking you tonight, Red,” he says.
I huff and throw myself back against the seat.