Total pages in book: 187
Estimated words: 177397 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 887(@200wpm)___ 710(@250wpm)___ 591(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 177397 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 887(@200wpm)___ 710(@250wpm)___ 591(@300wpm)
The room falls silent when Andrik asks, “Who should I make the check out to?”
He pulls a checkbook and pen out of the breast pocket of his suit jacket. The shock of his offer conjures so much silence the click of his pen as he prepares to jot down my details has my heart attempting to leap out of my chest.
But I’m as stubborn as I am stupid.
“Zoya Galdean.” Since I have no intention of entering the prostitution conglomerate, I spell out a last name not on any official documents. “G. A. L. D. E. A. N.”
The rip of the check from the checkbook matches the tear that shreds through my heart when he pulls it from its stub and hands it to me before offering to show me the way out.
“I know the way.”
“Still—”
I race for the door before another word can leave Andrik’s mouth.
Since he sees his son’s check as an affidavit of my promised silence, his father doesn’t block my exit. He steps to the side, smirking with an arrogance that must have been passed down for centuries.
It is too cultured to have been recently unearthed.
Untrusting of elevators, I throw open the emergency exit door next to the service elevator before I begin a multiple-floor descent.
I make it thirty floors before my legs refuse to gallop another flight. They’re still shuddering in the aftermath of two orgasms, but I’m going to pretend anger is the cause of their aching state. It may be the only way they’ll keep moving.
A lady dressed as if she is about to attend the opera startles when I exit the emergency stairwell on her floor. I don’t blame her. I’m a sweaty, sticky mess that doubles the guilt weighing down my shoulders.
Once again, anger is my excuse.
“I forgot they don’t call these buildings skyscrapers for no reason,” I murmur when she peers at me in suspicion when I join her in waiting for the elevator. “My planned exercise regimen far exceeded my capabilities.”
She smiles. It exposes that she knows I’m a lying piece of shit, but she doesn’t call me out on it—thankfully. “Perhaps next time?”
“Perhaps,” I reply as the elevator dings, announcing its arrival.
I gesture for my co-rider to enter first. It is stupid of me to do because her generously plump frame blocks the cause of the spicy scent lingering in the air until it is too late.
I’m once again trapped in the small confines of an elevator with Andrik.
Mercifully, this time around, we’re not the sole occupants.
Mikhail is here as well.
Although Mikhail looks remorseful, I slant closer to the stranger wearing too much perfume than the man I was certain was more a friend than foe only minutes ago.
Mikhail can’t be trusted—and neither the hell can my libido.
Andrik is an asshole, a reincarnation of the devil, yet the first thing my heart did when it spotted him in the corner of the space far more generous than its less stellar counterpart was stutter.
When a breathy cussword bounces off the brushed steel doors of the elevator, I keep my head front and center but veer my eyes to the side.
Mikhail glares at Andrik like he just kicked him in the shin, before he shifts his focus to the woman forcing enough distance between Andrik and me to ensure I will make it through this elevator ride unscathed. “Is that a Rachel Deprovor brochure?”
I glare at Mikhail with flaring nostrils when his question steals the devotion of my only lifeline. “Why, yes, it is. How observant of you, young man. Are you a fan of Rachel Depovor’s work?”
I wordlessly plea for Mikhail not to leave me defenseless when our co-rider twists to face him.
After the quickest flash of a remorseful smirk, he answers, “Of course. Did you hear she was having a showing at Br…”
I miss the rest of his reply. I can’t hear anything over my pulse raging through my body when a tattooed hand curls around my elbow, and I’m tugged back until my back is splayed flush with Andrik’s erratically panting chest.
The zap of our bodies colliding shudders my thighs and causes an arrogant, big-headed smirk to twist Andrik’s lips. It takes everything I have not to take care of the pretentiousness beaming out of him with my fists. I wouldn’t hesitate if I trusted myself enough not to surrender to the insanity that usually arrives with his punishments.
Since I don’t, I keep my hands balled at my sides.
Andrik sounds as disappointed by my lack of retaliation as I feel. “Did you stop because you’re worried about the repercussions, милая?” His breathy, whispered words floating over my ear send goose bumps racing to the surface of my skin. “Or because you know I will respond exactly how you’re hoping.”
“I’m not hoping for anything.” After a breather to settle the spike his growl caused my blood pressure, I say, “I wouldn’t want to slap you if you’d stop playing games. You just asked me to leave. You paid me to keep quiet, and now you’re… you’re…” My words trail off, desperate not to portray the lust-fueled idiot I’ve been parading over the past twenty-four hours.