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)
She nods before checking that her bob didn’t spill any of the tears flooding her eyes. “I couldn’t mistake him if I tried.” Her sigh ruffles my twelve or so chest hairs. “Vasily said my father would cut me off the instant he discovered the company I keep. He stringently follows the law, and I’ve been walking the tightrope for years.”
Polina sounds confident in her assumption, but I’m still on the fence. From the stories she shared of her father, he wouldn’t just up and abandon her. He isn’t my mother.
“I think you should keep digging. There has to be more to his lack of contact than disappointment.” I’m almost awarded a laugh when I mutter, “Tell me one parent who hasn’t been disappointed in their kid at some stage of their life? It’s our job to drive them fucking bonkers. It is payback for the years of hell they gave their parents.”
Since I’m leaning in to get a sniff of her shampoo, our heads almost collide when Polina suddenly jackknifes into a half-seated position. “Talking about parents. Your mother—”
“Smuggled me into Russia when I was an infant,” I interrupt, grateful some memories are returning but also frustrated. I would have preferred for the memory of Leon stabbing a gun under Polina’s ribs not to return. Her expression killed me, but I’ll get my revenge if it is the last thing I do.
Polina’s expressions at the fight were as dire back then as they are now when she says, “They’re threatening to kick you out of the country and never approve your visa.”
“They can’t do that,” I say with a stubborn shake of my head. “I am Russian through and through.”
She huffs. “I thought the same until Vasily showed me the deportation orders his father’s team drew up.”
“Were they the same ones they showed me? Were they in Yev’s name?”
She’s confused by my question but nods nonetheless.
Her bewilderment doubles when I twist the tuft of hair I usually wear gelled back until it resembles Feo’s Elvis curl. “Pity for them Yev is nowhere to be found.” Leon’s goons are so fucking stupid, they spent the first hour of the tournament scanning the crowd for me. They had no clue I’d been presenting as both Feo and myself for the past couple of weeks. “Feo was born in Kronstadt. Excluding that sixteen months with his father, he lived here his whole life, and there’s not a shred of evidence that could say any different.” I shrug like it’s no big deal. “So let them kick Yev out. See if I give a fuck.”
Although relief darts through her eyes, Polina couldn’t protect herself very well if she wasn’t occasionally hypocritical. “You can’t pretend to be your brother forever.”
“Why not?” I ask, generally curious. “If Feo can’t live, why not live his life for him?”
I’ve never wanted to be me more than when Polina replies, “Because I didn’t fall in love with Feodor. I’ve only ever loved Yevgenyi.”
After a PG-rated peck on the corner of my split lip, she attempts to slip out of bed. I say attempt because there’s no fucking way I can let her leave now. “Oh, fuck no, you can’t tell me you love me and not prove it.” I wrap my unbusted leg around her waist and yank her down until she lands on top of me. It sends pain skittering in all directions of my body, but I keep my focus on the task at hand. “There are many ways you can back up your claims.”
Polina is mainly humored by my reply, but there’s a smidge of eagerness that keeps the flame in my gut lit. “Your leg is broken—”
“And?” I interrupt through twisted lips. “Does that make my cock broken too? I haven’t tasted your bodywash in days. I can’t wait a second longer.”
“Yev.” Her laugh would usually soften my dick, but that isn’t a possibility when a body as fine as hers is splayed up against me. “We can’t. We have guests.”
“Who will stay the fuck out of my room if they know what’s good for them.” I shout my words loud enough for Kliment and the gang to hear.
I’m reminded of my new roommate when Annika says, “I’m going to the store.”
Two seconds later, Micah adds, “And I’m going with her.”
Polina’s cheeks are as red as a beetroot when Kliment jumps into the conversation. “I can’t hear shit with my headphones on. They’re moan-canceling.”
When the click of the front door closing creeps into my room, I return my eyes to Polina. “See? Not an issue.”
“How is this not an issue?” She waves her hand down my bruised and battered body while breathing out slowly. “You’re hurt.”
“I am”—I pause long enough for her plump bottom lip to droop half an inch—“which is even more reason for you to kiss me better.”