Total pages in book: 81
Estimated words: 76809 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 384(@200wpm)___ 307(@250wpm)___ 256(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 76809 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 384(@200wpm)___ 307(@250wpm)___ 256(@300wpm)
"Okay. I am going to clean this up, then freshen up. Any chance you can make the coffee? I tried to watch Cora, but she moves like lightning when she's doing rote tasks."
"I can manage that. Hot or frappe?"
"Can I convince you to slip some of this into the frappe?" she asked, producing chocolate syrup that Cora occasionally used to drizzle on desserts.
"I can be persuaded," I agreed, watching as her smile went bright.
"Thanks," she said, then the smile fell as she made her way toward the sink. "Mr. Adamos?"
"Yes?"
"We're going to get your brother back."
It wasn't a promise. Of course, she could not give me that. And I appreciated it. But she was offering me comfort of sorts. Something I also appreciated. A tight grip of worry that had been crushing my chest and stomach loosened just a little with that small reassurance.
"One way or another," I agreed, moving away from the kitchen, to let her clean up in peace.
When I heard her go back into her room, I made my way out to throw together the frappes, meeting her in the hall as she re-emerged, this time with a small bit of makeup on, making her eyes more dramatic, and drawing a lot of attention to her lips. Where my gaze did not need to be drawn more than it already was.
"That looks amazing,"she told me, reaching out with both hands to take her drink, her delicate-boned fingers brushing my much larger ones, creating an electric shock that moved through my whole system. Her gaze shot up. Like maybe she felt it too. "Thank you," she told me, grabbing the drink, and moving a solid three feet away before taking a sip.
Then she had to do the low moaning thing again, making my cock stir, making me need to take a few slow, deep breaths to calm the chaos in my system, as I berated myself for feeling something decidedly personal in a very professional situation.
"Now we wait," I told her, moving over toward the monitor situated over the fireplace. I'd moved two of my chairs there so we could sit until the call came in. I moved over to the monitor, hitting the record button.
"It's going to be okay," she told me a few moments of tense silence later, making my head turn over my shoulder to find her steady gaze on my face. "Take a breath, she suggested.
"I'm fine."
"No, you're agitated," she corrected, voice gaining an edge. Her professional voice, I decided. "And the last thing I need is a loose cannon beside me when I am navigating a tricky situation. So take a couple deep breaths, Mr. Adamos, and put a little more trust in me. There's a reason you came to me for this. Remember that."
Not many people spoke to me like that. Those who did certainly didn't work for me. They valued their lives too much.
It took balls to do it.
I should have been pissed.
But all I could feel was impressed.
So I went ahead and took a few deep breaths.
"Here we go," she said, taking a deep breath of her own as the call screen appeared on the monitor.
We both stood in unison as I hit the answer button.
There was Atanas Chernev.
He was young to control an empire like he had. Then again, it was easy to get money and power when you made your fortune off the addictions of others, banking on their misery.
He was short and stocky without being fat, his black hair short, his face a somewhat gaunt and pinched with a sparse beard, hooked nose, and bushy brows.
He wore a suit with one button open; a hint of a gold chain could be seen in the space.
His keen gaze moved immediately to Miller, his face showing a hint of surprise, and—if I wasn't mistaken—a small amount of pleasure.
"Atanas, this is Miss Miller. Miller, Atanas Chernev."
"Mr. Chernev," Miller started, not quite giving him a smile, but something on her face managed to display warmth regardless. It was impressive how quickly she could put a mask over her features I found readable most of the time. "I have heard many things about you."
"From this one?" he asked, jerking his head to me. "All lies, surely," he added.
Flirting.
He was flirting.
I wondered how often that was a reality for Miller, how many of these men she'd worked with saw her as a body without brains. And, well, that would have worked in her favor.
"That is probably true," she agreed, giving him a small smirk. "But I believe one thing he has told me is true. Which is why I am here."
"It is a shame when reasonable men must resort to such measures, but here we are," he said, shrugging. "What can you do?" he asked, waving an arm outward.
"Well, I am here so that we can all come to an agreement that everyone involved is satisfied with."