Total pages in book: 92
Estimated words: 86238 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 431(@200wpm)___ 345(@250wpm)___ 287(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 86238 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 431(@200wpm)___ 345(@250wpm)___ 287(@300wpm)
“Now that your conscience is clear, you can leave.” I flash Alek a glare over my shoulder as I climb five flights of stairs. “I’m safe and sound and can take care of myself.”
“Never doubted that for a second.” My heart thuds against my ribs when he adds on a hushed whisper while tracing my steps, “Although I might need to visit the local bus depot before sunrise.”
“He won’t touch her.” My grin is far too heroic for my liking.
And it doubles when Alek murmurs, “Don’t doubt that too. Although I’d rather you get your point across without grabbing some old geezer’s nuts.”
“And dick,” I correct. “I had his dick and balls in my hand.” Immaturely, I shove my hand in his face. “Want a smell?”
“For fuck’s sake, драгоценный. I just ate.”
His nickname bitch-slaps my attitude back three places. “Call me precious again, and I’ll show you how hard I clamped down on his private parts.”
The stupid hairs on the back of my neck rise again when he steps close enough to pin me to the front door of my apartment with his thick and enticing body before he murmurs in my ear, “драгоценный.”
I’m not strong enough for this—not in a million years—but the damn door won’t budge no matter how hard I twist the key. “What the fuck is wrong with you?” I cuss at the door, expressing the exact words I want to shout at my traitorous body. Alek’s body is an inch away, but the internal battle not to lock lips with him is the hardest I’ve ever fought.
He was my kryptonite for years, and you don’t simply become immune because you forced thousands of miles between you.
The answer for the faulty lock comes from the last person I want to hear from. “It is because the rent is months overdue.”
Pete The Sleaze moseys into the stairwell. His shoulders are so broad he hogs the cracked and paint-peeled space as much as Alek, except the extra weight he’s carrying is fat, whereas Alek’s is all muscle—pure, unadulterated muscle.
I regain some of the brain cells I lost when Alek pinned me to the door while he steps back to speak with Pete. “How much does—”
“If you speak another word, I will make sure Polina’s father knows she doesn’t work in fashion.” That shuts his mouth better than the index finger I pushed up against it. “Dressing trafficked women for auction isn’t doing trade shows.”
“Technically, it is,” he mumbles around my finger. After hitting me with the quickest wink, he yanks a bundle of cash out of his pocket like everyone carries thousands of dollars in their jeans before he tosses it down the stairwell. “Send me anything else she owes. I’ll have it paid by the end of the week.” He drinks in my peeved expression like it’s an outpouring of love before adding, “And send someone to fix the lock. It’s broken.”
“It’s not broken. I had it replaced.” Pete’s words shift to a groan when Alek steps back from the door before buckling its hinges with his big boot. “I’ll call a locksmith.”
Once he shuffles away, Alek shifts his focus to me. I wish he wouldn’t. The playful gleam in his eyes was always my undoing. I could be mad as hell, and all he had to do was stare, and I was under his spell in an instant. “Get what you need for a couple of days.” Shocked, I balk before arching a brow in silent questioning. “Your lock is busted. You can’t stay here with a busted lock. It isn’t safe.” He licks his lips before cracking them into a smile. “You can crash with me until it gets fixed. I’d say it will be a couple of days.”
“And catch fleas? No, thanks. I’m good.” I skirt by him and then attempt to slam the door in his face. It does me no good. He literally bent the hinges. “I’ll stay with Stace.”
His groan exposes I’ve hit a sore spot with him. He hates Stace as much as me. “I thought she moved away not long after you?”
“She did.”
I dart through my house, gathering up anything of value. It is an extremely short trip since it is the size of a shoebox, and other than a handful of charcoal sticks an artist used to barter for a private lap dance, I have nothing of value.
“Then she came back a couple of months before me.” I stuff my warm clothes into my backpack, then straighten my spine. “She’s pregnant. Five months.”
I shouldn’t loathe the curiosity in his tone when he asks, “Who’s the father?” but I do.
Needing to keep my hands occupied, so they don’t land on some part of Alek’s body I’m sure will leave him out of the game longer than I stayed out of Kronstadt, I continue packing. “She hasn’t said, but there are rumors.”