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)
After saying she’ll hire me no matter how uncoordinated I am, she guides me through another pair of French doors. The clothing of the applicants I followed moments ago is more risqué now than earlier, and a handful are doing stretches that make my groin ache.
“What exactly does KADOK Industries stand for?” I ask after watching one applicant strip down to a sequined pair of panties.
That’s it.
That is all she’s wearing.
“KADOK?” The blonde’s eyes widen before she rushes me out of the room now filled with more naked bodies than clothed ones. “You’re meant to be in the west wing. This is… ah… auditions for a new cabaret club.” She summons a man with a cut jaw and tattooed neck to her side with a flick of her wrist before she instructs him to take me to the west wing.
“If you’re busy, I can find my own way. I’m an hour early, so I have plenty of time to… mingle.” I mentally smack myself for the lack of confidence in my tone before admitting the real reason I want to stay. “If that doesn’t work out”—I hook my thumb to the west—“how much does this position pay?” I point to the floor.
My head slings to the side when a deep, gravelly voice says, “Not enough for you to even consider.”
A brick lodges in my throat when I come face-to-face with Andrik. He’s dressed similarly to the last time he bombarded me. His scowl is even sexier than his designer suit, and don’t get me started on the rest of him.
My memories must have been courteous by only reminding me of ten percent of his sexiness.
This man is fine, and he knows it. His smirk when he catches my admiring stare announces this, not to mention the flattening of the ironed creases in the crotch of his pricy trousers.
“What are you doing here, Zoya? This is private property. You have no right to be here.” From his tone alone, it is easy to decipher that “private property” stands for “my wife’s home.”
With words evading me, the blonde jumps in. “That’s my fault.” The rake of her nails over his chest boils my veins with jealousy. They appear friendly—very friendly.
Oh. My. God. Is she the wife?
“I told the valet to send all the busty girls my way.” Andrik’s eyes follow hers down my body. “I forgot other interviews were being conducted today.” I don’t know if it is envy or suspicion blazing in her eyes. “She’s too pretty to be a secretary.”
“She is,” Andrik agrees, stupidly falling into her trap. I don’t care how cocky you are, never compliment another woman in front of your wife. “But that doesn’t answer my question.” He moves away from the blonde, his stalk both dropping her hand from his chest and doubling my heart rate. “Why are you here, at my family’s estate, today of all days?”
“I’m here for a—”
“No,” Andrik denies before I can give him an excuse.
“My employment agen—”
“No,” he mutters again, his jaw ticking as rapidly as my anger rises.
He’s acting like I’m the adulterous half of our duo, and it shreds my last nerve.
I act out when railroaded.
“Mikhail invited me here.” He’s already folding from my metaphoric punch to the stomach, so I double his bend. “He wanted to show me his old stomping ground. Something about wanting to recreate the first place he ever got…”
I make a gesture with my tongue and the inside of my cheek no woman over the age of seventeen should use. It makes the blonde’s smile blinding enough to pay only the slightest bit of attention to the fierce red coloring of Andrik’s face.
“So I guess I better get a wiggle on. I’d hate to be late for our…”—I tap my finger against my lips and arch a brow—“sixth date in the past month.”
I run in heels. My getaway isn’t pretty or fast, but it is effective.
I almost make it back to Mikhail’s car parked behind a long line of sports cars before my inability to act my age catches up to me.
I’m flattened to the door of my borrowed ride by a big steaming Russian. My lungs strive to fill with air half a second before Andrik’s hot breaths bead condensation on my nape.
“Think very hard before speaking because your antics have gained you the eyes of over a dozen men I will kill when I am forced to respond to your lie with more than words.” When he slants his head to align our eyes, anger is there, but that isn’t all they display. They also show jealousy he has no right to have. “Why are you here?”
He doesn’t deserve an explanation, but if I don’t say something, my panties aren’t the only thing about to be massacred. Our argument has gained us many eyes, and there was nothing but utmost certainty in Andrik’s tone when he snarled his threat.