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)
I’d be lying if I didn’t like the way she swipes her card, and I don’t have to pay for a thing though.
I’m starting to relax—right until I realize she’s not just friendly. She’s efficient. She’s steering this whole outing like she’s orchestrating an event.
When we pull up to Rodeo Drive, my jaw practically hits the ground. I knew it was fancy but seeing it in person is something else entirely.
Every storefront gleams with sleek displays of designer gowns, handbags, and glittering jewelry. I didn’t think I was that into things, but seeing the gorgeous displays in front of me, I can’t help but want to reach out and stroke the soft, buttery leather and gleaming diamonds.
Cindy leads the way with a confidence I can’t even fake, gliding into a boutique where we’re immediately greeted with smiles for her and a subtle once-over for me.
“This way, miss,” the attendant says, ushering me toward a row of dresses displayed like works of art.
Cindy picks out a few, her discerning eye scanning me critically but kindly. “You’ve got wonderful proportions,” she says, holding up a stunning deep emerald dress. “This color would bring out your eyes beautifully.”
I almost snort. I’m not used to this kind of flattery, and I’m definitely not used to this level of attention. But I follow her lead, slipping into the dressing room with the kind of hesitation that makes the attendant tilt her head like she’s trying to figure out how I got in here.
Well, she can fuck off. My Bratva boy book boyfriend got me here, so here I am.
The first dress fits like a dream, and I catch myself staring at my reflection, almost not recognizing the woman in the mirror. It makes my cheeks look flushed, my breasts fuller, my waist accentuated, and my curves… wow.
“Champagne?” the attendant asks as I step out to show Cindy. She doesn’t wait for an answer, pressing a delicate flute into my hand before I can refuse. Not that I would. Free champagne?
The bubbles tickle my nose as I sip, letting Cindy fuss with the hem of the dress. I feel out of place, sure, but there’s something undeniably thrilling about this—the attention, the indulgence, the way these clothes make me feel like I belong.
Even if I’m just Cinderella in a borrowed dress, I’m going to enjoy it for a little while.
I glance at my phone, hoping for some kind of update from Rodion, but there’s nothing for the first hour of our trip. I finally send him an admittedly petulant little message.
Thanks and all but WHERE are you? Are you alright?
My heart skips when I see a new message.
Bratvabloodline
Yes and promise I’ll make it up to you
It’s simple, but it makes my chest tighten anyway. A promise. I’m drinking champagne, wearing a gorgeous gown I could never afford, and eying shoes fit for a princess and her rendezvous with Prince Charming, and he’s telling me he’ll make it up to me.
I take another sip of champagne, glancing around the boutique with its opulent decor and whispering sales staff. Rodion’s world is nothing like mine. It’s overwhelming and glamorous as fuck, but maybe, just maybe, I can navigate it.
If he’s going to make it up to me, I might as well enjoy this strange ride while it lasts.
I’m sitting in the back of the car alone. Cindy’s had all my purchases delivered to my apartment. We pull up to my building, and I see a shadow of a man but can’t see details. From the distance in the dark I wonder if it’s him but quickly decide it isn’t because he doesn’t walk like Rodion.
I stifle a sigh.
When he turns, horror dawns on me. Is it… Shawn?
Oh god. I can’t handle the emotional rollercoaster from one thing to the next like this.
My mind races. The words are frozen on my lips. I’m trying to think of what to say. His messages have gone quiet for a few days, and I had almost convinced myself he was going to give up, but then—
I look again, and he’s gone.
Was it my imagination? Did I conjure that up?
I shake my head and take my keys out when a low, dangerous voice whispers in my ear.
“Do exactly what I say, and I won’t hurt you.”
Chapter 15
EMBER
The ropes bite into my wrists, but not hard enough to hurt. Just enough to hold me in place. The blindfold is soft, though it makes my world pitch black. My breathing echoes in the silence of the forest, shallow and sharp.
I know this isn’t real. It can’t be.
But the terrible memory whispers anyway, a ghost brushing my ear. Shawn’s weight pressing me down, his hot breath sour as it chased me into every corner of my childhood. My stomach flips, bile and fear rising together until I hear it—a low chuckle, unmistakably his.