Total pages in book: 113
Estimated words: 106159 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 531(@200wpm)___ 425(@250wpm)___ 354(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 106159 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 531(@200wpm)___ 425(@250wpm)___ 354(@300wpm)
“Natalya…” This reply comes with a sigh, which exposes I’m getting through to him.
“Please,” I say again, like the rushed decision I made only minutes ago won’t have us packing by the end of the week. “I’m tired of running.”
His sigh this time around gobbles up my name. Then I get a small moment of reprieve. “Promise me you will stay where you are.”
While nodding, I cross my heart. “I promise.”
If he were here, I’d kiss him when he replies, “Okay. But no more putting it off. Self… def… cla… mon…”
I angle my head away from the noise when his broken reply shifts to none.
“Saka?”
While glancing around a space I’ve never taken in, I sigh when I spot how dense the walls are. They’re thick enough to block even the best signal—especially on a cell with a depleted battery.
Conscious Saka would have pinged my location the instant he accepted my call, I merge deeper into the happening space.
When my eyes land on a woman serving a group of men in a booth at the side of a stage littered with dollar bills, I learn why the ratio of men far exceeds women. The waitress is topless, and the sequins on her G-string sparkle in the strobing lights highlighting the silver poles on the stage.
Of all the businesses on Novaya Avenue, I entered one almost identical to the many my ex owned.
3
NATALYA
Before I can backtrack on my promise to Saka, a friendly voice at my side says, “What can I get you, hun?”
When I sling my head to the voice, my mouth gapes.
I’d recognize that face anywhere.
“Jax.” I practically skip to my favorite customer, my earlier fright forgotten. “What are you doing here?” As I sling my arms around his shoulders, I answer my own question. “This is how you fund those ridiculously elaborate shopping expeditions you conduct once a month, isn’t it?”
“Once a month at a minimum.” His fingers clink along with his tongue against his teeth. He swoops down to kiss my cheek before inching back with a sassy grin. “I’m also hopeful this gig will help unearth my next sugar daddy.” He leans close and whispers, “The men here have deep pockets.”
He throws his head back and laughs when I mumble, “Are you sure that isn’t because they’ve got nothing to fill the front of their pants with?”
“You’re naughty.” He drags his red-painted nail down my arm. “I fuckin’ love that about you.” After sashaying to the other side of the bar, he asks, “What do you want, sugar? This bar is your oyster, and I’m cracking it wide open for you. It is the least I can do after you found that one-off Monarch piece last week.”
This is one reason Jax’s visits to the boutique last hours. He is so much fun, but not once does he judge. He could be speaking to royalty or a homeless guy on the corner and his tone would never alter. A lot of Polina’s customers could take a lesson from his book. We’re often spoken down to simply because they have no clue who we truly are.
When Polina’s business was about to go under, her brother, Alek Kotova, presented to her a business proposal that would save her dreams without pushing her into an industry she promised her foster father she’d never venture into—the Bratva world.
What we do isn’t exactly illegal, but it often has my moral pendulum swinging like it’s on a cruise ship in the middle of the Bermuda Triangle.
My story is a little more complicated than Polina’s, and since it usually takes a gallon of tequila for me to open up, I balance my elbows on the counter and peruse the extensive collection of bottles lining the glass shelves.
“What’s your specialty?” I ask Jax, overwhelmed by the selections on offer. I also can’t read half the labels. I’m fluent in Russian, but my English-speaking friends are worth their weight in gold when it comes to deciphering written text on a white background.
My eyes bulge when Jax replies, “I’ve heard I’m fantastic at head…” My smile grows as he wipes his finger over his now-puckered lips. “How couldn’t I be with lips like these?”
“They’re very nice lips.” I wait for him to accept my praise with the sassiness it deserves before adding, “But I was referencing your bartending skills.”
“Oh...” He fakes shock, but I can tell he isn’t. He’s super playful. It is his nature. “How about we see what we come up with?”
When he nudges his head for me to join him on the other side of the counter, I jump at the chance. Since my pre-teen years, only two jobs have been on my wish list. Bartending and DJing. I once hoped to merge my dreams into one, but that was when I met my ex, and everything went askew—including my freedom.