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)
“I could only guide her to water. I couldn’t force her to drink it.” Yev’s confused face is cute. It will never touch Matvei’s level of sexiness, but I understand Polina’s interest. “Oh… you still think that text was from Polina.” I screw up my face. “My bad.”
It’s been so long since I played Cupid it’s making me forget I’m meant to be angry. Matvei texted me the address of Vasily’s party tonight and emailed me a ticket, but other than that, it has been radio silence.
It probably hurts more because my father had the exact same response only days after suggesting I skip my sentence hearing.
“What?” Yev’s shock couldn’t be any more tremendous. “Polly didn’t message me that night?”
“You must have broken every law to reach Novaya Avenue before us.” I swallow down the bile burning my throat. “I would’ve picked a different location if I’d known Vas was there.” How was that night only weeks ago? It feels like a lifetime. “I knew one look would have her remembering she didn’t need a man to save her.” I hide my laugh with a scoff. “She just needed a kid.”
“A kid with a size fifteen boot,” Yev barks out, responding as hoped.
“That I hope finds its way lodged up Vasily Cabanow’s rear end at some stage this week.”
I laugh until I recall the response Matvei got for wanting to cushion my life with bubble wrap. During our drive back to Kronstadt, his silence had reminded me of how he’d rattled off more security features of the mega-mansion than anything else while giving me a tour of his new abode.
He didn’t purchase the sprawling mansion for its multiple pools, pristine acreage, or eight-car garage.
He bought it to keep me safe, and then got defensive when I didn’t immediately fall at his feet to kiss his boots in gratitude.
Don’t get me wrong, I’m grateful he cares enough to worry, but if I don’t get a say in my life, I may as well have stayed married to Bastian. Being told what to do and how long to do it is no way to live, but will I have a life worth living without Matvei being a part of it?
Truly unsure, I sigh. “Should we be doing this? We’re meant to trust her.” Her judgment. Her choices. Her wish to live her life how she sees fit. Why do women often think they don’t get a say in that?
I remember our rush to get Yev ready for a ball isn’t about me when Yev replies, “We do trust her.”
Careful not to touch him, I thread the bow tie around his neck. “Then why are you charging in on a white horse? That doesn’t display trust to me.” Since I’m a little jittery, it takes me three tries to get the tie straight, but I eventually get it right. “She will hate being treated like a damsel in distress.” I lock eyes with him, hopeful eye contact will stop a lot of what I’m saying from being absorbed by my lovesick heart. “Especially by you. She fell for you so fast because you don’t look at her like everyone else does, like she’s some sort of broken toy to fix.” So much of their story rings true for Matvei and me as well, particularly this part. “You knew her secrets before you started chasing her, but you didn’t care. You liked her how she came… icy and cold.”
“That isn’t who she is.”
Our smiles match. “I know… because we’re one of the rare few she’s let in. I don’t want anything to lose us our spot, so that’s why I have to sit this one out. Then she’ll have someone to run to if you stuff this up.” The sentiment in my tone can’t hide the double meaning of my reply. “And who knows, maybe next time I’ll get her to drink the water as well.” Needing to end our conversation before I get desperate enough to request girl talk from a guy, I ask, “Will that be cash or credit?”
30
NATALYA
After checking my phone for any missed calls, I lock eyes with Haynes in the rearview mirror before requesting him to take me home.
“And where is that home, Ms.…”—he stops before correcting himself—“Natalya?”
“To my apartment, please.”
He appears surprised but hides it well. “Very well. Please put on your belt.”
As I do as asked, he seeks an opening in traffic. It is heavier tonight since everyone but me seems to have plans.
Bursting to dispel some of my confusion, I send a group text to Taylor, Millie, and Maria.
Me:
Drinks on the balcony? My treat.
Millie:
I’ll bring the limes.
Maria:
Sounds fab!
Taylor:
Can you grab tequila on the way?
The last message doubles my despair.
I log into a private chat with Taylor.
Me:
You okay, Tay?
Her reply takes almost as long as it does for Haynes to drive me home.