Total pages in book: 95
Estimated words: 89090 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 445(@200wpm)___ 356(@250wpm)___ 297(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 89090 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 445(@200wpm)___ 356(@250wpm)___ 297(@300wpm)
“What? You idiot!” I whack into him before reserving my breaths for not passing out. That’s far more than I have access to, and although I could ask Alek, he’d never hand over that amount of cash without a thorough explanation in person. “Call your father. Ask for his help.”
As he scrubs at the back of his sweaty neck, Vasily mutters, “He won’t fucking help me. He won’t even let me touch the inheritance my grandfather left me, for fuck’s sake. He said marriage taught him to be a better man, so until then, he won’t give me a single cent.”
“Then call Mr. Lenkov.”
I realize I am saddled with the wrong Cabanow son when he says, “Can’t. I already owe him over three hundred thousand.”
“How the hell do you owe him so much money? You work for him. He’s meant to pay you, not the other way around.” When his sleazy gleam tells me everything I need to know, I thank my lucky stars that at the start of our courtship he wrongly concluded that I was saving myself for marriage.
Who knows what I would have caught by now if he hadn’t?
While struggling not to fold in two from wondering how many of the women who walked through the doors of my boutique also spread their legs for my supposed boyfriend, I spot Yev collecting payment for the fight he just won. The bundle of cash he stuffs into his backpack looks thicker than the one a man with a vibrant neck tattoo is handing over at the registration table, and it pops a brilliant idea into my head.
“Ask for another line of credit.”
Vasily stares at me as if I lost my marbles. “Why the hell would I do that?” He assumes I am digging the hole he started years before I entered the picture. “Without me, you won’t get close to my father. His secretary doesn’t deny your requests for a meeting for no reason.”
Through grinding teeth, I reply, “Ask for another line of credit for an upcoming fight, but this time, put money on Yev.”
He’s certain I’ve lost my scruples. “He can’t fight again. It is a one fight per night rule.”
“He fought as his brother. This time, he will fight as himself.” I walk him toward Sasha as if my legs aren’t shaking a million miles an hour. “Yev won’t let me down.” Vasily has the hide to gag. “What would you rather? Me owing Yev a favor or you owing the Yurys two hundred thousand dollars?”
He picks wisely when he mutters, “You better get him on board,” before he cozies up to Sasha like they’re long-lost buddies to make out the night is young and his pockets are lined with money.
While he convinces Sasha to give him an additional run of credit, I make my way to Yev, who’s standing at the side of the boxing ring.
My knee-knocking walk gains me the eyes of many, but the most heated stare belongs to Yev.
“Hey,” I greet, acting as if I’ve not once fallen to my knees and crawled to him. “I need a favor.”
He slants his head but remains quiet, aware I don’t ask for assistance even when there are no possibilities I can go it alone.
“I need you to fight again.”
His reply is short and blunt. “Can’t. This circuit is one and done.”
“I understand, but you fought as Feo.” He flattens down the tuft of hair that convinced everyone he was his brother while I say, “This time, you will fight as Yev.”
“Why would I do that, Polly? So your fuckface boyfriend can try and rig another fight?”
His reply stings since his accuracy is so on point, but I play it cool for my little sister. “Because I need you to do this for me.” Once again, he goes the quiet route, which forces me to lie. “I didn’t realize you were fighting on behalf of Feo, so I put a day’s taking on your fight. There are no refunds. If the fighter bows out, the bidders lose.” When he looks set to deny my claims, I say, “That’s the way things work around here now, Yev. They don’t play fair.”
He doesn’t look happy, but I’m certain I almost have him over the fence, so I flutter my lashes at him before pleading, “Please. I need your help. Business has been slow since the Bobrovs left town.”
After a prolonged bout of silence that has me sweating, he says, “Okay…” I think all my Christmases have come at once until he tacks on, “On one condition.”
I swallow to sooth my burning throat before asking, “What’s that?”
I realize I’m not the only one giving the performance of my life when he pauses to build the suspense. He waits until the sweat on the back of my neck has dribbled halfway down my spine before he finally grants my lungs permission to accept air again. “If I win, you have to kiss me.”