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)
Leonard didn’t sexually assault me. He simply failed to announce that I wasn’t the only female fighter he was giving “free” lessons to. He was already cocky as fuck, but he hasn’t quit bragging to his minions about how good of a trainer he is since I left him with two black eyes and a busted nose after walking in on him and his 3 p.m. client.
I closed my fist that time like I should have done in the elevator with Andrik.
I move fast so Nikita won’t hear the sigh of my lie as easily as my libido did. “I’ve also got mace. If my fist doesn’t take them down, scorching-hot pepper spray will.”
Her delay in replying exposes I am getting through to her. “Z…”
If cramps weren’t announcing her sheets are one wayward roll from being massacred, I would have succumbed to her pleading eyes. Since I’m minutes from folding in two from the pain, I tell her I love her before I race through her front door at the speed of a bullet.
It is no easy feat considering it takes a bodybuilder to get her front door to budge from the lip. It’s swelled with the dampness I am anticipating to flood my uterus over the next three to five days.
I hold my arm in the air like Nikita can see me when she says, “Message me when you get home,” before I climb the half a dozen stairs to the foyer of her building.
It is far ritzier than the basement apartment Gigi and Grampies have been renting for the past several decades. It would have you believing Nikita’s family is rolling in money. That was my first thought when she invited me to meet her family years ago.
The mold spores my lungs fight to keep at bay assure me otherwise.
“Thank you,” I murmur to the doorman holding open the front door for me.
It’s cool tonight, so there’s no excuse for my slow pace down the isolated street—except perhaps the realization that I have nothing to race for.
I just walked away from the only people who have ever cared for me.
Nikita and her grandparents are all I have.
And perhaps a rascally faced marshmallow man whose generosity nudged my best friend three months closer to achieving her goal.
Remorse smacks into me when I peer down at Mikhail’s name on my phone for the umpteenth time in the past two weeks. He was nice to me—scheming but still nice—yet anytime I’ve attempted to reach out to him, I’ve let his brother’s actions persuade me against it.
That isn’t fair, and it is time for me to stop acting like a spoiled brat who’s never experienced deceit.
A grin I only ever showcase when spending time with Nikita stretches across my face when the perfect message to send pops into my head. I take a detour down a side alley so I can snap a picture of the Michelin tire plant that closed its doors several months ago.
With my smile as bright as the moon, I attach the marshmallow-looking Micheline mascot to my outgoing message.
Me:
Reminded me of you.
It’s late, so I’m not anticipating for Mikhail to reply. I’m storing my phone away when it buzzes with a message.
Mikhail:
He better have a massive steel rod under all those layers of flab or I’m going to feel insulted.
My fingers fly over the screen of my phone.
Me:
It’s hard to tell from this angle. Want me to check?
Mikhail:
Fuck yes! Unless there is actually a dude under that suit. He might not survive your grope.
With my ego desperate for a firm yet still-friendly stroke, I reply.
Me:
Too much blood deferring from your heart to your dick is dangerous for any man, but I’m sure I will make it worthwhile for him.
Mikhail:
I’m sure you will. But that isn’t what I meant, Sunshine.
Another message pops up before I can demand an explanation for his riddle.
Mikhail:
Though I am glad to learn your confidence didn’t dip in the slightest after… you know.
I do know.
I wish I didn’t, but I do.
That doesn’t mean I want Mikhail to know that, though.
Me:
After???
The vibe switches back to playful when he replies.
Mikhail:
Are we really going there, Sunshine? All right. Bruise my ego some more by making out you’ve yet to realize no other man can compete with me.
My reply is so natural I type it out before my head can formulate a single objection.
Me:
You sound just like your brother.
My eyes’ quick scan of the last word mercifully saves me from making a mistake. I move my thumb to the delete button instead of the send.
I’m partway through deleting my reply when my phone commences ringing. It is a video call request from Mikhail. I consider pretending my battery is flat since my mood is circling the drain, but that excuse flies out the window when a message pops up in the middle of the screen.