Total pages in book: 66
Estimated words: 62724 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 314(@200wpm)___ 251(@250wpm)___ 209(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 62724 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 314(@200wpm)___ 251(@250wpm)___ 209(@300wpm)
“She was going to jump off the edge of the roof of the building.”
“What stopped her?”
“Konstantin pulled her off the ledge.”
She raises her eyebrows and looks impressed. “Knight in shining armor in a billionaire’s suit, huh?”
I shrug and put a mouthful of cereal in my mouth.
“She must be really brave. That’s not how I would do it if I had to.”
I stop chewing and swallow hard. The rough edges of the cornflakes scratch the insides of my throat. Then I look around in the direction of my mother’s room, but her door is still shut. “Jesus, Maddy, don’t say things like that,” I whisper fiercely. “You’re freaking me out.”
“I don’t want to freak you out, but it’s true that life would be so much better for you and Mom if I were not here, wouldn’t it?”
I grasp her thin wrist tightly. “Stop. Right. There. I won’t hear another word of that nonsense. Now close your eyes.” She doesn’t obey and I raise my voice firmly. “Close your freaking eyes.”
She closes her eyes.
“Now pretend I am no longer in the world, in this apartment.” I give it a few seconds, then I ask, “What do you see?”
She opens her eyes and looks at me sadly. “It is horrible.”
I stare at her intently, then tuck her pale hair behind her ear. “Exactly. We are blood, the three of us, we are a family, one inseparable unit, Maddy. If any one of us is gone, it would be an insufferable, intolerable, unspeakable loss. Do you understand?”
She nods.
“We will find a way to cure you. One way or another we’ll get you back to health. So no more defeatist crazy talk, okay?”
She nods. “Okay.”
I let go of her. I have grasped her so hard, my fingers have left white fingerprints. I have no appetite, but I put another spoon of cereal into my mouth and chew it, even though it feels like sawdust in my mouth.
“Raine?”
“Yeah?”
“Do you really think I’m going to get better?”
I smile at her. “Yes, I really, really do.”
She smiles back at me. “Good. Because I’d love to go to a real party.”
“You will. I promise.”
“I believe you.”
“By the way, I’m going away for the weekend,” I say casually.
“Where to?”
“London.”
“London!” she screams. “London, England?”
“Yes, London, England.”
“How?”
“I’m going with Konstantin.”
Her jaw drops. “What?”
I nod. “Don’t tell Mom, but it’s just a dirty weekend.”
She gasps with shock. “I can’t believe this. You? You’re going for a dirty weekend?”
I pretend to be offended. “Why? You don’t think any man would want to take me away for a dirty weekend?”
“Don’t be such a dork. You know you’re stunning. It’s just you’re always working. You never stop to have fun.”
“Well, I’m doing that this weekend,” I say firmly.
“How are you going to tell Mom?”
“She already knows.”
Her eyes widen. “What did she say?”
“She said go and have a good time.”
“Mom said that?” she asks incredulously.
I grin. “She sure did.”
Raine
I am driven directly to the airport. Once there, his secretary, Mrs. Berkman, a dark-haired, bespectacled woman in her thirties is waiting for me. She gives me an efficient smile and takes me into the lounge where I find Konstantin working on his laptop. His green-gold eyes sweep over me in a way that makes my stomach clench inside.
“Hello,” I murmur, as his secretary wheels away my small suitcase.
He nods. “We are leaving in ten minutes. Want some coffee or juice?”
I shake my head.
“Have a seat. I just need to finish this.”
“Sure,” I say, dropping into the seat opposite him. While he types with lightning speed onto his keyboard, I watch him surreptitiously. His eyelashes are too long for a man. They sweep over his cheeks in a way that is adorable. And when he types his mouth moves slightly. I watch those sensuous lips and feel a flutter in my belly. Suddenly, he snaps his laptop shut and turns those gorgeous eyes up to me.
“Done. The rest of the weekend is for fun and games,” he drawls with a wolfish smile.
I swallow hard and cannot find one suitable reply in my head to that announcement. “Good,” I finally croak.
His secretary comes back to ask if we are ready to board. To my surprise flying private is a whole different ball game to flying commercial. There are virtually no checks save the quick scan of our passports. We are whisked aboard a medium-sized plane where everyone we meet addresses us by name and is smiling and super polite.
Inside it is luxurious, but subtle. No gold trim or any kind of ostentatiousness that I expected a nouveau riche Russian billionaire to have installed. Instead, it is simply a comfortable mode of fussless transport for a man who guards his privacy jealously.
I settle into my cream seat just as an air-hostess comes bearing a tray with tall flutes filled with champagne. Well, that’s one thing I’ve never had. Champagne in the morning. I take a glass. Another hostess comes to place a small vase of flowers on the little table between us.