Total pages in book: 87
Estimated words: 83195 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 416(@200wpm)___ 333(@250wpm)___ 277(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 83195 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 416(@200wpm)___ 333(@250wpm)___ 277(@300wpm)
“I need my stuff,” I say. When neither of them makes a move to stop me, I walk past them to grab my belongings.
She starts talking to him in a hushed tone, and I try not to listen, but I hear Cinita’s name.
How could I not?
This guy is fucking obsessed.
CHAPTER 6
Aleksandr
“Is this going to be the same problem as Cinita?” Anya asks.
“No,” I tell her as I watch Lena walk off. She’s beautiful. Too fucking beautiful to be up there dancing in a cage. Her ass peeks out perfectly beneath the dress.
All those luscious round curves, not like Cinita, who was all skin and bones. She worked herself until she was sick. How opposite they are.
I turn my gaze to Anya, who studies me intently. She never misses a thing.
“Do not let her work here again,” I grit out, unimpressed by the entire situation.
“Why?” she asks, not backing down. Anya is persistent.
“Is my word not enough?”
“No, it’s not. Now tell me why.” I shake my head and walk past her. We might be close. We might have each other’s back no matter what. But there are some things even I have the right to keep to myself.
“Alek, tell me why,” she yells out from behind me, but I don’t answer. Once upon a time, I would have told her everything, but ever since the fiasco with Cinita, things have changed.
A lot.
For one, where the fuck is Cinita?
I found her once and can do it again.
How does she manage to keep slipping through the cracks?
Pushing open the door to the dressing room, I find Lena swearing at herself as she strips the clothes from her body.
“Stupid fucking men. Who does he think he is?” she says, and I want to smile. If I were capable of such a thing. “Thinks he can tell me what to do, like I don’t have enough men in my life thinking the same thing.” She swears at the end.
“I wasn’t telling you what to do, and I’m still paying you.” I make a point to look at the four thousand dollars on the side table. “Do not come back.” Her blue eyes are almost like crystals as they shine back at me. She’s furious. “That is me telling you what to do, in case you were confused.” She glances at the cash, then back at me.
“Don’t worry, I’m sure my teenager brain can process that much, old man,” she bites back.
My eyebrows shoot up involuntarily. Does she have any idea who she’s speaking with? Obviously not. “Old man… that’s one I haven’t heard.”
“I just assumed because you have no hair.”
“It’s shaved.”
She casually shrugs. “I have yet to see otherwise.”
I step into her space now because this woman clearly doesn’t realize the danger she’s in when speaking to me.
She stumbles back, her ass hitting the table behind her. Her tits are on full display, and they’re more than a handful. When she rights herself and turns her back to me, I get a view of her hourglass figure from behind.
“You seem not to understand danger when it’s facing you,” I say, cautious to keep my distance but remain close enough to intimidate her.
She spins back around to face me. “Sounds exactly like something an old man would say,” she retorts, but her chest heaves. Those breasts rising and falling.
“I’ll have you know I’m not even thirty yet,” I reply, and it boggles me why I’m still even talking with her.
“Already halfway in the grave if you ask me.”
This abnormality of a woman. She’s nothing more than someone to give me information on Cinita, yet… here I am… dare I say, arguing with her?
I take a step back and lean against one of the pink chairs as I shove my hands in my pockets and watch her. Her gaze flicks between me and her clothes that are in her bag on the floor.
“Are you so young you still need help getting dressed?” I challenge.
“I’m not sure if your shaky old man hands are up to the challenge of clipping a bra.” She leans over for her bag, and a smile tugs at the corner of my mouth. I’m bemused and bewildered by this little singer.
“Maybe she ran from you,” she says.
Ignoring her bra, she pulls her dress out of the bag and puts it on over her head. Although she probably intended for me to, I don’t look at her breasts, even though her perfect nipples are noticeable through the material. I won’t pretend to be some gentleman, because clearly, I’m not.
“Maybe,” I agree as I pace back to the center of the room. She watches me cautiously from her periphery.
“Thanks for my money, asshole.”
She grabs the money, opening her bag and pushing it in, then steps toward me.
“Move,” she says as I block her path. “You told me to leave, yet your assholeness is blocking my way. Or have you lost your sense of direction as well, sir?”