Total pages in book: 187
Estimated words: 177397 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 887(@200wpm)___ 710(@250wpm)___ 591(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 177397 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 887(@200wpm)___ 710(@250wpm)___ 591(@300wpm)
Furthermore, Andrik’s note made it seem as if he will be gone for a couple of hours, so why not have some fun with my girlfriends until then?
“How many bottles can you fit under your…” I don’t know how I missed the monstrosity she’s wearing. It is frumpy and hideous. “What even is this?”
“It is the ugly coverup Maksim told me I had to wear.” She plops onto a sofa and cradles her head in her hands. “He didn’t like that my ass was showing. Well, he didn’t actually say that. Aleena just thinks that is what he meant. He’s so confusing. I want to see you come. You won’t leave my fucking head. Then, the next minute, he pushes me away. I just wish he’d give me a straight answer like you did Riccardo. Not… fucking… interested.” Regret darts through her eyes as she shoots them up to Riccardo. “Sorry.”
“It’s all good,” he assures her. “I’d rather be honest than strung along.”
Pain fuels Nikita’s reply. It is barely heard through her confusion. “That’s what he’s doing. He’s stringing me along like my feelings don’t matter.” After a quick breath, she says, “And I think I know why.” Her eyes are back on me, wet and full of emotions. “I think he’s suing the hospital for malpractice. In all honesty, they deserve it. Their plan to diagnose his mother’s condition was preposterous. They were stabbing at theories that made no sense for her symptoms, and when that didn’t work, they conjured up an even more absurd way to justify their stupidity. Her diagnosis was so simple a third-year resident worked it out in minutes, so how could seasoned doctors not do the same?”
Whoa. She gave me a brief rundown of her exchanges with Maksim earlier today, but this is far more tense than she made out.
The tension hanging thickly in the air thins a smidge when a drunk voice at the side says, “Because their brains are wrinkly lards of flabby skin between their legs.”
Aleena’s saying could have only come from one source. “You gave her the men are stupid because their brains are in their dicks speech, didn’t you?” I ask Nikita.
She shrugs. “Maybe. It is my go-to material when someone is feeling down.”
“Aleena was feeling down?” Nikita’s attempt to make out it isn’t as bad as it seems twists my stomach. She would have made out it was nothing if it wasn’t bothering her. “What happened?”
“Nothing happened. She just seemed a little—”
She is interrupted by a toast. It doesn’t give off the “in love” vibes I experienced most of the afternoon. “To men who think with their dicks.”
Aleena holds up her glass in silent encouragement for the room to join her in her salute. I decline Riccardo’s offer of a nip of bourbon, too worried from reading the room to join the festivities.
I feel like some of Aleena’s angst stems from her past more than her present, and I can’t help but wonder if Bayli’s reappearance is the catalyst of her slip.
Once most of the room is ready for her to finalize her toast, Aleena says, “And the women stupid enough to fall for their tricks.”
When her glass cracks upon collision with Shevi’s, Nikita sobers up enough to see sense through the fog. “It’s time to call it a night.”
My high chest sinks in relief as I race to Aleena’s side before she can swallow a shard of glass as if it is ice. “I’ll be taking that.”
Her lower lip drops into a pout when I remove her drink from her grasp and place it on the bar she’s balancing on before I glue her hip to mine.
“I can walk,” she lies.
If I weren’t holding up her weight, she’d be flat on her face right now.
Partway out of the cabana, she murmurs, “You can go back to whoever you were entertaining earlier. You don’t need to worry about me. I’m fine.” Even drunk, she’s a terrible liar. “I’m getting married to a man who is gorgeous and successful. My life is great!”
When a group of drunk men enjoying the outdoor paradise of the hotel warn her against exchanging vows, she breaks out of my hold and stumbles their way.
“What do you have to be worried about? It isn’t like you’re going to be faithful, anyway.” Hiccup. “It’s not like any of you fools know how to keep your dick in your pants.” She spins to face me, stumbling over her feet. “But at least your wives won’t need to compete with that.” She thrusts her hand at me during the “that” part of her statement. “My sister is so beautiful everyone wants her.” She looks on the verge of tears. “Even my fiancé.”
The world spins as the orange juice I guzzled down threatens to resurface.
What does that mean?
Is she saying what I think she is?