Total pages in book: 92
Estimated words: 86947 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 435(@200wpm)___ 348(@250wpm)___ 290(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 86947 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 435(@200wpm)___ 348(@250wpm)___ 290(@300wpm)
“My father wants me to get married,” I blurted.
She was careful with her response. “To the guy that came to the office today?”
“Yeah.” I put my fork down. “Please don’t say he’s hot.”
She bit her lips to hide her smile, but nothing about this situation could even mildly amuse me. “Is there a reason why you’re so against him?”
I took a deep breath. I knew that it would be best for me to be cautious with my words just as I had always been, but today, and at this moment I cared very little about holding my tongue. “He killed my best friend, about eight years ago.”
She froze. “What?”
“He pretended to be in love with her and she trusted him and gave him information lethal enough to get her and her family killed.”
“Jesus Christ, Freya. You’re speaking about death as though it were normal. Who are these people?”
Really, she wanted to say who are you? “I never speak about it, but you must have guessed by now my family is involved with the Russian mafia.”
Her eyes widened. “Actually, I did not guess any such thing. If you’re from… such a family, what on earth are you doing here in this cockroach infested apartment with me? Why are you trying to sell bits of jewelry when you could be dripping in the stuff?”
“That’s because until now I have done my best to steer myself away from that life.”
“Okay. The worrying part is when you said until now.”
“Well, marrying this … man will shoot all of that to hell. It will keep me a prisoner for the rest of my life. Not to mention that I just might end up killing him myself. Then I’d really be finished.” Even thinking about him made my stomach recoil. I rose with my half-eaten meal and headed into the kitchen. I scraped the food into the bin and began to do the dishes. I needed to keep my hands busy.
Britney followed me into the kitchen. “Any plans to stop this arrangement?”
“Ah, Britney. You have no idea. I cannot cross my father.”
“Why not? You’re not a child.”
“You know how there are fathers in parts of Asia and the middle east who will kill their daughters because they have dishonored them by not wanting to marry the men they have chosen for them? Well, my father was cut from the same cloth.”
“Then let us get this fiancé of yours to call the whole marriage thing off. Surely, he’s not on board with this crazy plan.”
I turned off the faucet and focused my attention on her. “As a matter of fact, he is.”
“Why? He seems like he could have any woman he wants. Er … no insult to you, of course. You’re beautiful, but why can’t he find his own?”
“They are doing it to bind the family together. To ensure there are no more turf wars between us.”
“Right. So what happens next?”
“He told me to meet with him in a few days at Tribeca. To state my terms...”
“Well, how about you make them as outlandish as possible. Ask for things that you know he will never agree to, so that there’s no way in hell he will even consider this arrangement.”
“And if he still does despite all of this?”
She opened her mouth, then closed it again because what could she say?
Chapter Eight
Maxim
I waited for her at a table aboard the restaurant’s ship, docked at Tribeca Piers. In the distance was the city’s skyline and the lit Statue of Liberty. On my table was a glass of Japanese malt whisky.
Just as I’d expected, she was deliberately late so I quashed the irritation inside me and ordered a refill. I’d give her ten more minutes. Even she wouldn’t dare be later than that. The drink arrived almost instantly and I decided to take the opportunity to relax. The simple rest was unusual for me. I took in the gentle rise and fall of the waters, separated from my table by only the wooden edge of the boat.
Then I lifted my gaze to the sight of passing boats, yachts, ferries filled with excited tourists taking in as much of the city’s sights as they could. Further in the distance the infamously tall buildings stood majestic, scraping the skies.
Excited chatter pulled my attention towards a party of exquisitely dressed girls heading towards the bar. They reminded me of a flock of flamingos, decorative and showy. Freya on the other hand was a mustang. Wild and fierce. My phone began to ring and as I picked it up, the flock moved to reveal my flame-colored mustang dressed in all in black. How very dramatic of her.
“Maxim,” I said into the receiver, as our eyes locked.
I listened to my call, while she marched up, slammed a document on the table, and glared at me as she waited for me to round up my phone call.