Total pages in book: 128
Estimated words: 124446 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 622(@200wpm)___ 498(@250wpm)___ 415(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 124446 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 622(@200wpm)___ 498(@250wpm)___ 415(@300wpm)
Draping my arm over the back of Mina’s chair, I lift a finger to caress her ear. I trace every silver hoop pierced through the shell before dropping my hand to her neck to stroke the outline of the hummingbird tattoo.
At the rejection, the woman turns her attention to Ilya. It doesn’t take him long to catch on.
“Excuse me.” He pushes back his chair and saunters to the bar.
They strike up a conversation as her drink arrives. By the time her glass is empty, Ilya’s arm is around her shoulder. It’s a pose I know well. We’ve played the game together enough times. They order a round of shooters. And another. My brother glances at me, and the brunette follows his gaze. He says something, and she gets up.
Anton stops talking when she comes over to our table and takes Ilya’s seat.
Placing a hand on my leg, she smiles brightly. “Hi, handsome. I hear I’m up for double the fun.”
I remove her hand. “You heard wrong.”
She pouts. “And here I was getting all excited. Your brother over there is paying for the room. You may as well”—her voice drops an octave—“take advantage.”
Next to me, Mina goes rigid.
“What’s wrong?” Anton mocks. “You can’t disappoint the lady’s fantasy. Go if you like. I’ll keep our guest occupied.” At guest, he looks at Mina.
Fucking Ilya. I’m going to kill him. And then Anton, too.
In a few strides, I’m at the bar and in my brother’s face. “What the fuck are you doing?”
“What we always do. Why does that surprise you?”
“You’re acting like a moron.”
“I’m not behaving differently than normal. You are.”
The shooters must’ve gone to his thick head. “That”—I point at the brunette who’s still sitting at our table—“was unwarranted.”
His gaze narrows. “You’re fucking exclusively now?”
“How I fuck is none of your business.”
“Are you trying to push me away? Is that it?”
“What?” I stare at him in disbelief. “This has nothing to do with you.”
“No.” His tone is bitter. “It doesn’t. That’s the whole point.”
“What the fuck?” Did my brother smoke something? “What are you talking about?”
“You know what? Stuff it. I’m taking her upstairs and fucking her. Join us if you want, or don’t. I don’t care. At least I was willing to share.”
“What is this? You give me something so I have to give something back?” I grab his arm. “Nothing you do will ever convince me to share Mina, so get it out of your dense skull once and for all.”
He jerks out of my hold. “Fuck you. What happened to all that talk about brothers watching out for one another?”
“Ilya,” I warn, “don’t let this come between us.”
He sneers. “Too late.”
“Yan,” Anton says urgently but softly, walking fast toward me. He tilts his head in the direction of the door.
I spin around just in time to see Mina disappear through the frame.
16
Mina
With my nose pinched shut, I run through the lobby toward the bathroom, slam a palm on the door, and rush to the vanity. When I let go, blood splatters on the white marble of the basin.
No.
Fuck.
I grab a paper towel from the dispenser and, tilting back my head, press it under my nose until the trickling stops.
Bracing my hands on the countertop, I look at my face in the mirror.
Not this.
On the outside, I’m like a granite statue. Inside, I’m shaking.
The bruises scared me this morning, but I hoped. I hoped they were remnants of our rough sex. Shock and disappointment fill my chest until my heart drowns in despondency. All I want to do is scream, but I slam a fist on the counter instead. The blow hurts, the pain sharp and sobering as shame overcomes me.
Don’t be pathetic, Mina. Pull yourself together.
I don’t know anything. Not yet.
Sniffing, I stare at the mess that’s my face. This won’t do. This won’t do at all. Straightening my spine, I wet a paper towel and clean the blood off my skin. I’ve barely dumped the bloodstained towel in the trash when a loud tap sounds on the door.
“Mina!”
Yan.
“In here,” I call out. “I’ll be out in a minute.”
The door bangs against the wall. My keeper storms through it, his green eyes like wild, poisonous ivy.
“What are you doing?” He looks around the empty bathroom as if he expects to see someone else—or as if he thought he’d catch me climbing through a window.
Can’t blame him. I’ve done it once, and I would’ve done it again if he hadn’t tagged me like a dog.
“Jeez.” I turn and lean on the vanity, all cool, casual mockery. “Can’t a girl pee in peace?”
He regards me closely, searching for the lie. “You’re not any girl.”
No, I’m not. I give a wry laugh. “So what? Do I have to ask permission to use the bathroom?”
His answer is curt. “Yes.”
“Fuck, Yan.” My turmoil spills into anger. “I think we’ve established I don’t have a fucking chance at escaping. You can cut me some slack.”