Total pages in book: 65
Estimated words: 63786 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 319(@200wpm)___ 255(@250wpm)___ 213(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 63786 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 319(@200wpm)___ 255(@250wpm)___ 213(@300wpm)
I will make sure she is looked after. Protected. She can live here with our child while I reside in the penthouse. Our contact will be limited and only ever have to do with the baby.
But I’ll be damned if I let her back into my bed, let alone anywhere near my fucking heart.
From this point forward, Brooke Masters is the woman carrying my child and nothing more.
And I’ll make certain she understands it.
26
BROOKE
I barely sleep. And again, in the middle of the night, I wake up missing Lev. My body physically aching for him.
But I feel better after having it out with Agent Michaels. Hopefully, now he’s got the point and will leave me the fuck alone.
I toss and turn for most of the night, only falling asleep when I cuddle the pillow and pretend it’s Lev’s warm body I’m curling into. So I’m feeling groggy and only half awake when there’s a pounding on my door.
My nerves fizzle and pop. Has Lev found me? My heart hopes so, but my head prays he hasn’t.
Today, I leave New York City for good. I will call Henry and ask him to send me some money so I can catch a bus home. At least, surrounded by friends, I will be able to figure something out.
But I don’t have to call Henry, because one look out the window and I see him standing on the doorstep.
When I open the door, I throw my arms around him, suddenly realizing how alone I’ve felt for the past couple of days.
“Hey, baby girl,” he says soothingly. “It’s okay. I’m here.”
I start to cry. “Don’t worry, these aren’t tears are sadness. They’re tears of happiness.” I swipe them away with the back of my hand. “What are you doing here?” I ask once we’re inside the motel room.
But the moment I close the door behind us, I have to run to the bathroom and throw up. Morning sickness, my ass. More like around-the-clock sickness.
When I come back out, Henry is sitting on my bed, looking suspicious.
“Are you sick?” he asks.
“No,” I reply, elusively.
He crosses one leg over the other and gives me a very serious look. “I’m here to take you home. But before we go anywhere, I need to know everything, baby girl. I know you’re holding back on me. If I’m to help you, I need to know everything.”
I can’t tell Henry everything. It will put his life in danger.
But I will tell him everything I can.
“If my boyfriend finds me, he won’t let me leave.”
“Why?”
“Because I’m pregnant.”
27
BROOKE
Ten minutes later, we sit down in one of the booths at the diner across the road.
“Pregnant?” Henry is still in shock. “How did that happen?”
“How do you think?”
“Wait, is it Wilson’s or Mr. Mysterious’?”
“It’s Lev’s.”
“So it’s early days.”
“Not as early as you’d expect. I got pregnant the night I met him.”
Henry’s eyebrow goes up. “You didn’t use any protection?”
“Let’s just say it was all very surreal, and I took a lot of risks. But the point is, now I’m having his baby.”
“Yet you’re hiding from him.” He frowns. “He didn’t hurt you, did he?”
“No, Lev would never hurt me.” The words leave my lips without thought. Because I know Lev wouldn’t hurt me. I mean, he might break my heart if I let him. But he would never physically harm me.
“Then what’s the problem? Is he a dick?”
“No, he’s very charming.”
“He’s a selfish lover?”
“No, he gives me multiples before he takes his own.”
“Ooh, I like this guy. Wait, he doesn’t have bad personal hygiene, does he?”
“No, he’s very manscaped in a rugged, primal way.”
“Small dick?”
“Big.”
“Chews with his mouth open?”
“No.” I chuckle.
“Oh boy, is he married?”
“Nope.”
“Then why did you run away?”
I glance around the diner and then lean in. “He’s Russian mafia.”
His eyebrow shoots up. “He’s in a bratva?”
“He is the bratva. He’s the pakhan. The boss.”
That’s when Henry does something I completely do not see coming.
He throws his head back and laughs.
“Why are you laughing?” I ask, confused.
Henry shakes his head, seemingly not seeing the danger of me having the pakhan of a bratva hunting me down at this very second.
“You had a one-night stand with a pakhan.” He chuckles as he shakes his head, and I’m confused because I kind of thought he would freak out, not find it amusing and exciting. “I dated a Russian mobster once.”
“You did?”
“Hottest sex of my life. Had the biggest cock on him, and the fucker knew how to use it.” He fans himself. “Could deep throat too. Best head of my life, actually.”
“Then what happened?”
“He was always breaking dates because he had to, I don’t know, go kill people or something.”
“Henry!” I exclaim.
He chuckles. “I’m kidding, I mean, maybe.”
Our waitress brings over coffee and takes our food order. Pancakes for me. Waffles for Henry.
I wait for her to leave before asking, “Why did you never mention your Russian mafia boyfriend?”