Total pages in book: 129
Estimated words: 120165 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 601(@200wpm)___ 481(@250wpm)___ 401(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 120165 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 601(@200wpm)___ 481(@250wpm)___ 401(@300wpm)
The dinner passed in a blur. I just remember glancing at Radimir sitting next to me again and again, thinking is this real? He was smiling and slapping people on the back: he was happy!
Everyone seemed to be having a good time: Mikhail had brought his dogs and was feeding them scraps under the table, Luna, Sadie and Jen were getting a lot of interest from the single men and there were even a couple of kids running around between the tables, presumably the children of some of the Russian guests Radimir had invited because none of my friends had kids yet. That got me thinking: did I want a family with Radimir, someday? Three weeks ago, I would have been horrified by the idea, but now… I shook my head. Later. I just wanted to enjoy today.
We cut the cake, a five-tier creation cloaked in white icing and decorated with winter berries and sugar roses, their petals dusted with icing sugar snow. Then more drinks and a lot of Russian people shaking our hands and wishing us well. I was glad I’d started learning Russian: I could only understand maybe one word in three, but…baby steps.
Before I knew what was happening, the tables had been cleared and the band was starting up. God, it’s going so fast! The lights dimmed and everyone formed a circle with Radimir and me in the center.
“What is this?” asked Radimir, confused.
“The first dance!” I told him excitedly. “It’s traditional.”
He looked around suspiciously. “I don’t dance.”
I grabbed his hand and towed him into the middle of the dance floor. “Just one dance, I promise.”
He put his hands on my waist and tugged me close. My breasts pushed against his chest and I felt his cock harden against my thigh. He growled, pinned me firmly in position and whispered in my ear. “One dance. Because any more than that, feeling you against me like this, and I’m going to be dragging you into the nearest storeroom.”
I felt my face light up red but the words, said in that accent, spiraled straight down to my groin and made me crush my thighs together. He’d been holding back, all these weeks, until he knew I wanted him. I could feel the need in him: in his hand, gripping my waist, in the way his eyes kept going to my lips, and in the press of that thick, hot cock. It felt like he was one second away from just ripping my wedding gown off in front of everyone and throwing me over one of the tables. I went weak inside and pressed myself closer to him, reveling in the feel of his body as we slowly spun around the dance floor. I was giggly and heady: I glimpsed Jen smiling at us as we whirled past and I felt my own big, stupid grin on my face. I couldn’t remember the last time I was so happy.
There was a scream, down at the end of the room. Radimir and I stumbled to a stop and looked in that direction but for a moment we couldn’t see anything through the crowd of people. Then another scream, the crowd split apart and—
Spartak Nazarov, his lips twisting in hatred as he saw us. And standing in front of him, three men with machine guns.
I gave a strangled cry of terror as they opened fire.
43
RADIMIR
I’d done exactly what I swore I’d never do: I’d let my guard down. Spinning around and around the dance floor, with Bronwyn’s breasts soft against my chest and her white gown billowing out behind her, I was happy. I knew I was grinning and that people from the other mafia families could see it, and I didn’t care at all.
Then Spartak and his gunmen burst in, and it took me a few seconds to come out of that warm, pink fog. The first spray of bullets would have killed us both if a man from one of the East side families hadn’t run in front of us in his bid to escape. He was cut down, and as he fell screaming, I finally woke up, picked up Bronwyn and ran. I dived behind the waist-high wall of amplifiers the band was using and pressed Bronwyn to the floor, covering her body with mine. Bullets tore into the amps, sending out showers of sparks and deafening screeches of feedback. The band fled the stage, sending their mic stands tumbling. The guests were all trying to get out but there were too many people and not enough doors.
More bullets slammed into the amps. They hummed and crackled, belching white smoke that stung my nostrils. I don’t have a gun! When I’d been getting dressed that morning, I’d been too focused on trying to figure out what to say to Bronwyn. Plus, who takes a gun to a wedding?