Total pages in book: 94
Estimated words: 92284 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 461(@200wpm)___ 369(@250wpm)___ 308(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 92284 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 461(@200wpm)___ 369(@250wpm)___ 308(@300wpm)
But I don’t trust cops. I don’t trust men.
I’m suddenly filled with a blinding rage. My fingers shake on the screen.
Who the fuck are you and what are you doing?
Bratvabloodline
I’m calling your bluff, little queen. And I already told you who I am.
My bluff? Dude you’ve got one thick head if you think for one minute that I’m actually entertaining any of this. It’s for show. In real life, you can fuck off
Bratvabloodline
Is that so? After everything, you’re upset now? I told you what my life is, and you kept playing your little games. What did you think this was?
What I think is that you are out of your goddamn mind
Bratvabloodline
Maybe. But I think you’ll love your little present, little queen
My jaw drops. He did not.
The buzzer to my apartment building makes me jump a mile. What the actual fuck is going on? My heart is racing.
With shaky hands, I hit the buzzer, half expecting his deep voice and the Russian accent on the other end.
“Hel-lo?” I stammer.
“Hey, Ember. There’s a delivery here for you. Would you like me to bring it up? I’m heading to your floor to do a security sweep anyway.”
I blow out a breath and glare. “Who’s it from? What is it?”
“I can’t tell. It’s all wrapped up, and there’s no card.”
It could be a bomb. Could be a weapon. Could be—
Okay, alright, I’m getting way ahead of myself here.
“Bring it up. Please,” I tack on.
I pace my apartment for the two whole minutes it takes for him to get there. It’s not out of the ordinary for me to get packages. In the past year, since my job as an influencer has taken off, I’ve gotten branded merch, books from authors, and sponsored deals. It’s been sweet, really. Who knew?
But the message he left… it’s just so… personal.
I hold my phone in hand when I realize he’s replied to my comment on his post.
“Touch her and die” isn’t a vibe… it’s a promise. A real man doesn’t need to make speeches about his devotion. He shows it. As far as “my wife” – My wife wouldn’t need to wonder where she stands because she’d feel it every second of the day—in the way I protect her, the way I’d learn every part of her.
Well then. My mouth is dry, my heart hammering. I can’t help it.
I’m melting a little.
You don’t put a woman on a pedestal to admire her from a distance. You put here there as a reminder of how much she’s worth, so she knows she’s the one calling the shots—even when it might feel like she isn’t.
I swallow hard.
He’s good.
Too good.
But god help me… I think I’m starting to believe him.
The knock sounds at my door so loudly I jump.
“Who is it?”
“Reggie. At the door, Ember. Did you forget already?”
I laugh nervously. “Just force of habit, Reg. Thanks.” I open the door to find Reggie with a box. This place is cheap, and Reggie likely makes minimum wage, but he takes his job seriously, and I’m thankful he does.
“Thanks,” I say confidently. I still have no idea who this is from, though I wonder…
Reggie salutes me then turns to leave as I discreetly begin opening the box. I stare at the contents, my cheeks coloring, as I quickly slide the top on the box and feign normalcy.
“Ember, you expecting a guest?”
I shake my head. “No, why?”
He frowns. “Thought I heard someone moving around up on the roof. Figured maybe you had company. I know that’s one of your favorite places to go.” He scratches his nose and shrugs. “Call me if you need anything.”
My heart beats so fast I feel dizzy. It is one of my favorite places to go. The roof is private, locked off. No one should be up there.
“Probably just a bird,” I say, even though the excuse sounds lame as fuck even to my own ears. That’s no fucking bird, but if this man is really who he says he is, poor Reggie doesn’t stand a chance. I can’t take that risk.
My heart is hammering, and I feel a little shaky. I wish I could be reasonable about this, but a part of me… the dangerous side of me, the part of me that’s drawn to antiheroes… wonders.
Surely, my imagination has gotten the better of me.
Hasn’t it?
“Could be. Sounded heavier than that. Want me to check it out?”
I shake my head. “No, no, I’m sure it’s nothing.” My grip tightens on the box. He nods and walks off, waving his fingers at me, leaving me alone with the weight of unease on my chest and the box in my hand.
Now that he’s gone, I open the box again, my mind whirring. I stare. This… it can’t be.
One of the most gorgeous, still-functioning vintage cameras on the market, the exact one I’ve been eying for months. Way out of my price range.