Total pages in book: 126
Estimated words: 118309 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 592(@200wpm)___ 473(@250wpm)___ 394(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 118309 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 592(@200wpm)___ 473(@250wpm)___ 394(@300wpm)
I’m not the only one bewildered. Zoya looks constipated as she tries to follow the minimal crumbs I’m laying out. “And that matters how?”
“Because he… I…”
I’m saved from portraying a brain-dead idiot by a likely source.
We are here for her bachelorette party.
“Zoya?” Zoya’s younger sister, Aleena, forms her mouth into an O as tears flood her bloodshot eyes. “You came?” When strands of platinum-blonde hair bounce in the aftermath of Zoya’s nod, Aleena squeals so loud it could shatter glass, before repeating, “You came!”
When she bounds into the elevator with her giggling and bouncing bridesmaids in tow, I’m no longer worried about homicide being cited on my death certificate as it was my mother’s.
Death in a plunging elevator, though. That is now at the top of my list.
And perhaps the narrowed glare of a patient’s unappreciative son.
CHAPTER NINE
The creak of a door slowly closing breaks into the living room of the monstrous suite I’ve been milling in for the past hour.
Zoya cringes about the noise similar to someone dragging their nails down a chalkboard before tiptoeing across the room. “That came many years later than expected, but followed a similar path to what I had envisioned.”
She spent the last hour convincing her sister and her tipsy bridesmaids that 4 a.m. isn’t the best time to go clubbing. That is usually when the good half of society returns from the club scene.
After filling a whiskey glass with a generous serving of vodka, Zoya spins to face me. “Are you sure you’re okay with them staying here with us?”
“I’m sure,” I reply, still unconvinced this is our room.
You can’t really call our hotel room a room. It is more of an apartment with a kitchen, two bedrooms, a grand piano, and an endless supply of liquor.
“Are you sure you didn’t mix up our keycards with Aleena’s? A destination bachelorette party screams old money, and only someone spending their daddy’s money could afford this room.”
Zoya rolls her eyes at the unease in my tone. “I’m reasonably sure Aleena’s room is on the floor she entered the elevator, but it’s hard to get anything out of her when she’s a blubbering idiot.”
There’s no malice in her tone. She is simply trying to act like she’s not delighted by her sister’s excitement that she arrived at her bachelorette party without an official invitation.
“I told you you had nothing to worry about.” After removing the glass from her hand, I wrap her up in a warm hug. “I’m sure she understands why you left.” When her exhale beads condensation on my neck, I add, “And if she doesn’t, I’m not opposed to convincing her otherwise.”
That gets a smile out of her. “I love you, Kita.”
“I love you too… enough I’m willing to share a bed with you.”
She wiggles out of my hold when I drag her toward the untouched bedroom on our right. “The last time we shared a bed, you humped my leg.”
“That was you!”
She pffts me. “Whoever it was, girl-on-girl action isn’t on the agenda this weekend.” She moseys to her bag and removes a small package. “And to make sure it stays off, I bought this for you.”
When she tosses me the box, I catch it. “What is it?”
Not looking at me, she replies, “Sleeping pills.”
I cock a brow before rattling the box. “It doesn’t sound like sleeping pills.”
When she gestures for me to open my unexpected gift, I rip it open like I’ve never received a present. My cheeks turn the color of beets when my sluggish head clues in to what the small silicone device is.
“You bought me a sex toy?” I don’t give her the chance to reply. “How the hell is this supposed to help me sleep?”
Zoya stares at me like I have a second head. “You use it to orgasm yourself into the sexual coma the limp dick on the plane should have placed you in.” With shock keeping me quiet, she moseys my way, her hips swinging, her smile bright. “When was the last time you got a solid eight hours?”
I attempt to lie.
I don’t know why. Zoya sees it from a mile out and squashes it like a bug.
“In that little cabin at Kolomna. Demyan had a peanut for a cock, but made up for what it lacked with a magic tongue and gifted fingers.” She secures the trickle of desire the memory caused by adding, “I heard your screams from the lake, but I had to wait to tease you about it since you were passed out for eight… whole… hours.” She says her final three words as dramatically as you’re imagining.
“I was zonked from the alcohol we drank.”
She gives me her best don’t-fuck-with-me look. “You never drank when we went out. You didn’t want to face the repercussions of underage drinking with your father, and none of the boys we hung out with were stupid enough to give you alcohol. Not if they wanted to live.” She freezes before she cusses under her breath. “I’m an asshole who doesn’t dese—”