Total pages in book: 95
Estimated words: 88879 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 444(@200wpm)___ 356(@250wpm)___ 296(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 88879 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 444(@200wpm)___ 356(@250wpm)___ 296(@300wpm)
He smiles.
“By the way, I spent some time with Muriel in the conservatory today. She agreed to teach me to garden. Maybe gardening will keep me busy.”
He stares at me curiously. “You liked her.”
“Yes, very much.”
He nods and smiles. “I hope you’re not planning to steal her away from me.”
“I got the impression I couldn’t even if I wanted to. She’s totally devoted to you.”
He looks surprised. “Good. I hope she never leaves me. I’ve had her as my housekeeper ever since I left Russia.”
I want to ask more about his life in Russia, about his family, but I hesitate. I shouldn’t want to know more about him. It’s not part of the deal. Instead, I let my eyes drift over him. He is wearing a brilliantly white shirt, a blue tie and a navy suit jacket. In this light, he looks good enough to eat. God, I hate how sexy he looks. I hate how, once again, I’m feeling the magnetic pull of him.
Black label steak arrives. It is the best steak I’ve ever eaten.
“Good choice,” I say.
We lapse into silence and I wonder what he’s thinking, but again, I resist the urge to ask personal questions. It’s safer to stick to neutral topics.
“So, what’s the gala about tomorrow?” I ask instead.
He wipes the corner of his mouth and sets down his fork. “It’s for my mother’s charity event—it’s an annual gala that brings together some of the most influential figures in the community. They focus on supporting cultural preservation and women’s initiatives. It helps build connections and raises significant funds for various charity organizations back in Russia.”
I nod. “I take it you’re not one for parties?”
He leans back in his chair, tilting his head as if considering my question. “What makes you say that?”
“Just a feeling. You seem like the type who’d rather be behind the scenes, pulling the strings and letting the puppets take all the glory.”
He raises an eyebrow, a hint of amusement flashing in his eyes. “You think you’ve got me figured out, huh?”
I shrug, leaning forward slightly. “I don’t know… do I?”
He leans in, his expression softening. “Sometimes, you have to show up. Not because you want to. You go because your mother expects it.”
I laugh. A bit of skepticism creeps into my voice. “And maybe it’s just a game, showing off to people who know how powerful you are.”
His eyes flicker and I get the feeling he is disappointed in me. “Sometimes, playing the game is the only way to win.”
I sense that I have lost him. I had him and I lost him. Maybe he really is going just because his mother expects his presence, but I can’t stop myself from poking the bear. “Winning is everything to you, isn’t it?”
“Isn’t it for everyone?” he counters. “We all want to feel like we’ve accomplished something, that we’re moving forward. What about you? Why do you make your videos? You want to accomplish something with them, don’t you?”
I feel a slight prick of annoyance, but I meet his gaze. “Well, one of them got you to notice me, didn’t it?”
A smile tugs at the corner of his mouth. “You certainly accomplished that.”
For some reason, his words don't feel as satisfying as they should. There’s a hollow note to them, like he’s pointing out something I didn’t want to admit. I look down at my glass, feeling a twinge of uncertainty. My videos never sold any houses, all it brought was a man who wanted to buy me for sex.
He must notice my unhappy expression because he brings his glass to his lips, taking a slow sip before tilting his head. “Let me guess, now you hate me.”
I shrug, feeling a mix of exasperation and amusement. “You know exactly how to get under my skin.”
“Part of my charm,” he says, his eyes twinkling.
“Charm, huh?” I challenge, crossing my arms. “More like a talent for infuriating people.”
He lifts his glass. “I could say the same about you.”
I raise an eyebrow, intrigued. “Oh really? How exactly am I doing that?”
He pauses for a moment as if considering his next words. “Maybe you’re making me lose my sanity.”
The way he says it, quiet, almost vulnerable, makes my heart skip. “Well, maybe we’re even then.”
Chapter Thirty-Seven
IVAN
Iwant to fuck her. Right now. “Ready to leave?”
She blinks, surprised. She thought we’d stay longer and talk a bit more. “Okay, sure.”
I call my chauffeur and pay the bill quickly. We step outside together, our bodies not touching. The night air hits me, cool and sharp, but it does nothing to douse the heat inside. She stands there, illuminated by the glow of the city lights, and for a second, everything else fades. She’s gorgeous—the way her hair catches the light, the translucence of her eyes.
My driver pulls up and gets out, opening the door for her, and she slides in, casting a look over her shoulder at me.