Total pages in book: 161
Estimated words: 149338 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 747(@200wpm)___ 597(@250wpm)___ 498(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 149338 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 747(@200wpm)___ 597(@250wpm)___ 498(@300wpm)
He was like my very own Prince Charming.
“How about we go back to your apartment? And you let me rub your sore muscles.” He kissed along my neck, down to the top of my exposed shoulders. Peering at me through the mirror.
I smirked. “Oh yeah?”
We hadn’t done anything more than kiss. He was very patient with me. I still hated to be touched. Kissing was even too much for me, sometimes. The only man I’d ever…
It didn’t matter.
I hadn’t seen Martinez since he kicked me out of his office all those years ago. I wish I could tell you I stopped thinking about him. I wish I could tell you I hated him. I wish I could tell you a lot of things. It was like he put a spell on me. Etching himself into my mind, making me think about him more often than not. Especially when I was alone. It was hard not to let my mind wander, but it always wandered to him. When a man had an effect on you like he did on me, you couldn’t help but ask yourself…
Why?
Nikolai always respected my boundaries. I knew he wanted more, of course he did, but I wasn’t ready. To be honest, I didn’t know if I ever would be. I thought about going to see a therapist a few times, though just the thought of talking to a complete stranger made me uncomfortable. Maybe it was because I hadn’t met another man like Martinez, another man that set me on fire like he did. Maybe I had daddy issues or abandonment problems… whatever it was, I guess I just didn’t care. I wasn’t looking for answers, because deep down I knew another man like him didn’t exist.
“Come on, baby doll, let me take you home.” He grabbed my bag and hand before I could answer, leading the way out the door.
He spent most of the limo ride back to my place, on the phone. Speaking Russian to someone on the other end, completely ignoring me. I didn’t mind though, I just gazed out the tinted window as the lights of Manhattan went by in a blur. Sitting in his limo always reminded me of Martinez. I almost expected to see him if I turned my head.
Growing up, I didn’t think having a driver or a limo would be as common as it seemed to be. I had never been in a limo until Nikolai came along. I met him at the coffee shop by my apartment. I didn’t have enough cash for my espresso, and he swooped in and paid the barista.
We’d been talking ever since.
I continued to watch the city lights pass by, waiting for Nikolai to wrap up his conversation as we were a few blocks from my apartment. It was near NYU, at one of the most expensive and posh buildings in all of Manhattan. I moved in after I accepted the offer to attend Juilliard the fall semester. The school administration never brought up the fact that I was violating the housing policy by living off campus. Which I thought was odd, but I wasn’t about to question it. I’d been living there since. Looking back, I still remember how I panicked, dashing through the city that week, trying to get any strip club to hire me after Martinez pretty much told me to go fuck myself. Not one of them gave me a chance. I started to get paranoid, thinking they knew who I was before I even walked through the door.
Smiling at the thought.
I recalled walking out of the last establishment after being rejected again. I sat on the curb of the sidewalk and fell apart, not having a clue what I was going to do. After a few seconds of humiliating myself in public, and enduring awkward stares, I got up, brushed off the back of my legs and started walking toward the nearest ATM machine to pull money out of my account. I needed to take the six o’clock bus back to my foster parents’ house. That morning, they informed me I needed to find my own place since I turned eighteen and I had graduated from high school.
Meaning they didn’t get assistance from the state any longer to take care of me so they wanted me out. I was no good to them anymore. I shook my head as I typed in my code, checking my balance before making a withdrawal. The balance flashed on the screen, almost knocking me on my ass by what I saw. I swear I was about to pass the fuck out.
“This can’t be right,” I said to myself, looking at the quarter of a million dollars on the screen. I immediately peered around me, thinking someone was playing a practical joke. “This isn’t mine. There’s got to be some mistake.”