Total pages in book: 49
Estimated words: 48709 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 244(@200wpm)___ 195(@250wpm)___ 162(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 48709 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 244(@200wpm)___ 195(@250wpm)___ 162(@300wpm)
“I feel like something is wrong.”
“It’s nothing, miss. Nothing I could possibly say.”
“Now I have to know.”
Deep inside, I’m all pain and conflict. I’m wondering about Uncle Nick, the last thing he said, and Dad.
He was trying to leave….
And Damien, in the city, fighting to keep me safe.
But with Henrik, I find I can relax a little.
“I mentioned to my wife that Mr. Dovlatov had company. She asked if it was a woman. I said yes, and now she’s all questions,” He glances at me, smiling as he rolls his eyes. “It’s romantic, she says, coming here.”
I laugh quietly, lowering my gaze. “So that’s it? You want to ask if I’m with Damien?”
“No! What? No!”
“It’s pretty unlikely for a Cartel girl, don’t you think?”
Henrik turns to me, raising his hands. “I didn’t say anything. I would never say that.”
“What are you so afraid of, Henrik?” I ask, pushing away from the counter. “Damien wouldn’t hurt you.”
“Hurt me?” He narrows his eyes. “No, of course not. But it isn’t right to gossip about your employer.”
We’re together. I’m going to have his babies one day.
The thought dies before it can reach my lips, thankfully. It would make me sound so silly it’s unreal.
“I can’t really talk about why I’m here,” I tell him. “I’m sorry. But it’s not…well, I shouldn’t say anything.”
I was going to say it’s not romantic.
But I stop myself. What if Damien doesn’t want me saying anything?
Or maybe that’s an excuse, a way to keep this hope alive.
“Does Damien come here often?” I ask.
“No,” Henrik replies. “He’s normally at his penthouse in the city.”
“How long have you been with him?”
“Five years,” Henrik says, with a note of pride. “It’s part-time work, of course. Mr. Dovlatov doesn’t need a babysitter. But he pays me a salary all the same. I try to make myself useful, keeping up with repairs, helping where I can.”
My heart glows. “Is he a good boss?”
“Yes, he is. Very fair.”
I think about him being a father instead of a boss and what I stupidly said earlier about finding a way to thank him.
I wonder if he laughed when he walked out the door.
I wonder if he thought about me at all.
“Hello.”
His voice makes me jump.
I turn abruptly in the window seat. The book falls from my hands into my lap.
Damien stands at my bedroom door in a pale shirt and silver trousers, his cufflinks glinting at me as he rests his hand on the doorframe. His eyes draw my gaze, then the subtle shape of his lips, somewhere between a smirk and something else.
“What were you reading?” he asks.
I look down at the book. “It’s Russian short stories. Translated, obviously. Classics.”
“And?” he says, walking slowly across the room.
I bite down on my lip and physically bite it, which I can’t ever remember doing. The pain surprises me, and I let it go.
It’s all so much, his musky scent getting closer, his very presence.
“It’s difficult. It’s slow. I’m not sure I like it.”
He chuckles, walking up next to me, his hands in his pockets. He looms over me.
“Sometimes, in meetings, I’ll leave a book of Russian literature out. If the person I’m meeting with brings it up in conversation, I’ll ask what they thought of it. Some tell the truth that they didn’t read it. Others lie to try and impress me and say they loved it. Others have read it…and tell me they hated every page. I always respect them the most.”
My cheeks glow as he looks down.
“How did it go today?” I ask.
The sun hasn’t set yet. It’s late afternoon. My body feels sore with missing him every single second, a never-ending call to be with him.
“Well enough,” Damien says.
“Did you hear anything about Nick? Did you see Gabriel?”
“Nothing about Nick,” Damien replies. “But that doesn’t mean much. If he wants us to find him, we’ll find him. And yeah, I saw Gabriel. We met for coffee. It was casual. He didn’t mention you.”
“Is that good?”
He nods. “A few more meets like that, maybe I can assume he’s let it go. But I have to be sure.”
Because you care about me? Because you want me?
“I hope you don’t mind about the book.” I nod to it. “I went exploring. This place has an amazing library as well as an amazing kitchen.”
“I don’t mind. I’d go crazy if all I could do was stay here.”
“I thought it was going to be so much worse,” I whisper, struggling to believe I don’t sound overdramatic.
But is that fair, calling myself overdramatic when I’m responding to all this craziness? And that’s with the lust bouncing around inside me.
And fine, he doesn’t know that part, but….
He pulls up a chair and sits next to me. His leg almost brushes mine as he stares down, not eye-to-eye level even when he’s sitting.