Total pages in book: 68
Estimated words: 66185 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 331(@200wpm)___ 265(@250wpm)___ 221(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 66185 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 331(@200wpm)___ 265(@250wpm)___ 221(@300wpm)
“I’m glad to hear he’s doing well,” I murmur.
“Tell me something good,” he demands as he leans back in the chair, lighting a cigarette. “How’s Hana?” Instantly a smile tugs at my mouth, which makes Alexei smile as he blows out a cloud of smoke. “That good, eh?”
Knowing he’ll understand exactly what I mean, I say, “She’s my light.”
Alexei nods. “I’m glad to hear that, brother.” He takes another drag, then asks, “How’s business.”
“Great since you took care of Ballmer.”
“Very good to hear.”
Alexei earns a thirty percent cut from whatever I make. We might be friends, but business is business.
“Any news on the Albanians?” I ask. We’re slowly taking over their territory, and needless to say, they aren’t happy.
“Nothing but whispers,” Alexei answers. “They know better than to fuck with us.”
We talk for another hour about the company we’re starting together before I get up. Looking at the time and seeing it’s already eleven, I say, “I want to check in on Hana.”
“Do that.” He rises to his feet, exuding power with a single fluid movement. “Enjoy your woman.”
“I will.” A grin tugs at my mouth as we part with a brotherly hug.
Walking out of the lounge, I pull my phone from my pocket and dial Hana’s number.
She doesn’t answer on the first try, and it makes me type out a message.
T: Still at the club?
Only when I climb into my car does her reply come through.
H: Yes, but ready to leave. Pick me up?
T: Fifteen minutes away.
With a smile resting on my face, I go to get Hana. When I park outside Studio 9, I send her a text to come out. Seconds later, the door opens.
I get out of the car, and when Hana walks toward me, my eyes glide over the short as fuck dress. “That’s a lot of skin,” I grumble, not happy at all.
“It’s Fallon’s doing,” she mutters.
“Next time say no,” I demand.
Hana nods as she places a hand on my chest. I lean down and claim her mouth. Wrapping my arms around her, I pull her tightly to me, sucking her tongue into my mouth.
Lifting my head, I smile down at her. “Staying with me tonight?”
She nods, widening my smile.
I walk her to the passenger's side and open the door for her. Once she’s seated and the dress pulls up high on her thighs, I shake my head. “Fuck, that’s short.”
I slam the door shut, pissed off that every guy in the fucking club got an eyeful of what’s mine.
I keep quiet during the drive to my place, trying to calm the fuck down. My heart is thundering in my chest as I park the car. Getting out, I slam the door as hard as I can, then growl, “Fuck.”
Hana gets out, and when she walks toward me, I get another look at the flimsy piece of fabric which hardly covers her. I shake my head. “Stay there.”
I clench my teeth and try to focus on my breaths.
Hana doesn’t listen, and stepping right up to me, she places her hands on my jaw. “I’m sorry, Tristan.” Her eyes lock with mine, and it’s only then I feel a sliver of calm.
She stands on her toes and pulls me down until she can press her mouth to mine. The kiss is gentle, soothing, and then she whispers, “I’m sorry, my love.”
I pull back so I can see her eyes. “Love?”
She nods as she rests her palm against my cheek. I lean into her touch as she says, “My first. My only.”
Taking hold of Hana’s hand, I pull her to the elevator.
Tonight’s the fucking night.
Chapter 11
HANA
I knew it was a bad idea to wear the stupid dress, but Fallon was so happy when I agreed.
Now I’m in trouble with Tristan.
Standing next to him in the elevator, I worry my bottom lip as I watch the numbers climb. Feeling self-conscious, I tug at the hem of the dress.
“It’s not going to get any longer now,” Tristan snaps.
Crap.
The doors slide open, and as Tristan moves forward, I’m yanked into the penthouse. With the heels I’m wearing, I struggle to keep up with him, and on the last step, one of the stupid heels catches, and I drop to the ground.
Tristan lets out a growl as he crouches, and then I’m swept up against his chest. My arms quickly wrap around his neck, and I get a close-up view of his clenched jaw.
God, he’s angry.
I’m just about to apologize again when he throws me onto the bed. A surprised shriek escapes me as I bounce once. Tristan grabs hold of the fabric by my breasts, and with one hard yank, he rips the dress right down the middle. “Tristan,” I gasp, too shocked for anything louder.
His icy gaze snaps to mine, and then he growls, “You will never wear shit like this again.”