Total pages in book: 34
Estimated words: 32402 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 162(@200wpm)___ 130(@250wpm)___ 108(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 32402 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 162(@200wpm)___ 130(@250wpm)___ 108(@300wpm)
Now, one of her eyes was slightly swollen, and had some lovely purple bruising. Purple was one of her favorite colors, but right now, it didn’t appeal. There was mottled bruising across her face and cheek. She pulled Alexey’s shirt off her body and saw the bruising, as well as the boot print from her attacker slamming his foot on her.
It had been a painful beating, possibly even the worst she had ever experienced, certainly as an adult. As a child, there hadn’t been any boots. There had been belts, bottles, sometimes cigarettes. Life hadn’t been easy.
Stepping into the shower, she turned on the nozzle and let out a gasp as the cold water blasted her and took her completely by surprise. After only a few seconds, it warmed up, and she sighed in relief. The warm water felt so good against her bruised body. She should have trusted her gut. She couldn’t believe she even attempted to answer the door, when everything in her gut told her not to. Trusting her gut was what helped her survive all these years.
There were some shampoo and conditioner, and it smelled like vanilla, which was nice. She lathered up her hair, and she didn’t want to take up too much hot water. Also, this was not her apartment. She didn’t know how long Alexey’s hospitality would last. She finished washing her hair, soaped up her body, and climbed out. Wrapping a towel around herself, she wrapped a second one around her hair. She was going to get it cut at the first opportunity. Long hair fucking sucked, or at least it did when it was constantly being pulled. She was pretty sure her attacker might have taken a couple of chunks.
Stepping into the room, she saw a pair of jeans and a shirt had been left for her. They didn’t look like men’s jeans, and she also noticed the lingerie waiting for her. The bed had also been made. Had Alexey been in her room? He must have been. He was the only person here.
Pulling on her clothes, she quickly dried her hair as best she could by hand. There was a brush on the dresser, and she used it.
The small bedroom was nicer than any room she had ever been in her life. That was sad and possibly even pathetic, but it was true. Alexey was clearly a wealthy man, and she struggled from paycheck to paycheck.
She stepped out of the bedroom and made her way down the hall, noting how nice his place was. Alexey clearly liked things clean. There were cream-colored walls, dark furniture, and she didn’t see a speck of dust anywhere. It gave her a whole new level of respect for him.
She hated dirty things. Living in filth when she couldn’t do anything about it was one thing. Now, everything had to be clean. The first thing she did when she rented an apartment was clean it. She couldn’t stand mess.
The scent of bacon assailed her senses and she followed the smell, walking out to an open-plan apartment. It was stunning. The windows were large, and she saw they overlooked the city and made it look beautiful, but she knew the city held a lot of darkness. He had a large dining room table, and from there the sitting room that led into an open kitchen. It was a sizeable apartment.
“You’re awake,” he said. “Coffee?”
She nodded her head, because words right now failed her. Jane was not known for talking, but she was also rarely speechless. This was a new feeling for her.
“Cream? Sugar?”
She nodded her head for both, because once again, words failed her. This was not a good feeling. In all her life, no one had served her coffee.
Within seconds, Alexey had placed the coffee in front of her, and it looked so good. At first, she just stared at the cup, kind of treating it as if it was some kind of monster.
“Do you want some bacon and eggs?” he asked.
Once again, she gave a simple head nod. What more could she do? She felt ... stuck. She grabbed the coffee and blew across the surface, more for something to do rather than knowing what to do.
Maybe this was some bizarre dream she was going to wake up from. She pinched the inside of her thigh and found she was very much awake.
“You’re so quiet. Not much of a morning person?” he asked.
Usually, she was very much a morning person. This is not what she was used to. “I’m a morning person,” she said, finally finding her voice.
“What’s wrong then?” he asked.
She lifted her head, looked at him, and didn’t have a clue what to say, so she just blurted out, “I’m not used to this.” She pointed between herself and him, then toward the stove, followed by lifting her cup. “All of this is new to me.”