Total pages in book: 100
Estimated words: 94678 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 473(@200wpm)___ 379(@250wpm)___ 316(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 94678 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 473(@200wpm)___ 379(@250wpm)___ 316(@300wpm)
A familiar flashy red sports car.
Oh no.
The irony of my purchase isn’t lost on me. I bought this ghastly monstrosity in a fit of anger and confusion. It was a knee-jerk reaction to the chaos swirling in my life. It is a flashing neon sign of how stupid I am, and I cringe more than I gleam when I join Mikhail at the side of a 1.2-million-dollar purchase.
Don’t get me wrong. The car is beautiful, but just like the dress, I can’t keep it. There’s no way Mikhail will take Andrik’s money once he finds out the truth about his inheritance, and as much as I wish I could keep Andrik’s secret forever, cracks are already forming in my armor.
Furthermore, I don’t want to form our reimagination on an unstable surface. It will crumble if I do that, and my heart won’t survive a third demolition.
“I’m guessing it isn’t as easy to refund a car as it is a dress… right?”
“You’d be correct.” Smiling, Mikhail tosses a set of keys into my chest while saying, “So suck in your bottom lip before I bite it, get your ass in the driver’s seat, and give me my money’s worth.”
When he slides his eyes down my body, his gaze hot and wanton, 1.2 million stops ringing through my ears. The same tingling sensation that hit me when we made our wish list for when he got his motorcycle license is racing through my veins now, and I’m too horny to think rationally.
While recalling how packed the floors of Ember’s are every night—so I should earn a decent salary this year—I jog to the driver’s side door, slip onto the leather seat, and then groan.
I should have paid more attention while wasting money I didn’t earn. It’s a manual shift, and I only learned to drive an automatic.
“Don’t even think about it,” Mikhail says while joining me in the low ride.
“It’s a stick. I don’t know how to drive a stick.”
He pffts me. “Tell that to my cock. You’ve had no trouble driving it multiple times in the past week.”
Electricity spasms up my arm when he grabs my hand, places it over the gearstick knob, then requests for me to engage the clutch.
“The what?”
Mikhail’s laugh makes me hot all over, and it has me sizing up the backseat. It won’t be as comfortable as a king-size bed, but I’m sure we can make it work.
My eyes flick from the red stitched seats to Mikhail when he says, “Lesson first. Then we’ll test the softness of the leather seats.”
Air whizzes from my nose, falsely displaying I hate how easily he can read me, before I pay close attention to his instructions. I engage the clutch, then glide the gearstick through the gears as shown by Mikhail.
He takes it slow, his patience as mesmerizing now as it is between the sheets.
We spend the next few hours in the driveway of Zelenolsk Manor, Mikhail patiently guiding me through the intricacies of driving a manual car. Moments of frustration surface occasionally, but they’re quickly overshadowed with memories I will cherish for a lifetime.
Every time I stall the car, Mikhail’s laughter echoes throughout the sports car’s tight confines. It is infectious and warm and has me squirming in my seat more than his suggestion we take this circus on the road.
“I don’t think that’s a good idea.”
He encloses his hand over mine and guides the shifts of the gears as we glide down the long driveway. His touch is so reassuring I veer toward the open road instead of completing a U-turn.
As he continues to coach me, I think back on the past few days. They’ve been wonderful, filled with moments like these—simple yet profound. We don’t need to spend money to feel wealthy. It is in the connection we share.
We’ve grown closer, our bond tightening more with every second we spend together.
As the sun begins to set, casting a golden glow over the isolated road we’re traveling down, my heart grows heavy with guilt. Not just for the secrets I’m keeping from Mikhail, but from how I reacted when I learned some of his.
“I shouldn’t have spent money I hadn’t earned,” I confess, my voice barely a whisper. “I had no right to be angry. You had already given so much.”
Mikhail’s expression softens as he strokes his thumb across my hand. “I don’t care about the money. It’s yours to spend, and I’d give you the world if I could.”
“I know that. Truly, I do. I just…” My words trail off, an excuse, the easy way out. “This car cost a lot. It will take years for me to pay it off, possibly even decades.” He scoffs, and I grit my teeth. “The tips at Ember’s are good, but not good enough to purchase a sports car.”
“You won’t feel that way in twelve months.”