Total pages in book: 62
Estimated words: 59983 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 300(@200wpm)___ 240(@250wpm)___ 200(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 59983 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 300(@200wpm)___ 240(@250wpm)___ 200(@300wpm)
Elena showed up at my office. That was the first sign the world was against me. She begged to talk, and I slipped out a side door rather than dignify her popping in.
Then I got the news of a failed shipment. That was a time-consuming pain in the ass to contend with, even though I personally didn’t need to do anything while my men handled it.
After that, Roman wanted to visit me since he and his girlfriend were in the area. Like I had the fucking time to chitchat and socialize with my inept son.
More issues cropped up over the course of the day, but the text from Elena was what pushed me over the edge. My patience was shot. All goodwill vanished. She sent me a selfie of her holding up an invitation to the Grayson Ball, a gala and fundraiser I always make an appearance at. Her caption that suggested I would take her pissed me off even more, and that was when I called Viktor to prepare for a few nights at the vacation home upstate.
A little spell of distancing myself can’t hurt.
This storm means I’ll be out here for as long as Mother Nature decides. Maybe that’s not such a bad thing.
Exhaling a long breath, I pace back through the large lounge at the back of the house. Floor-to-ceiling windows reveal the wintry beauty. Glass panels curve upward and present an all-encompassing view that reinforces what the radar shows.
Lots of snow. Falling so thickly that it’s impossible to see the forest beyond.
Standing still to watch the snow sheet down, I feel alone. And lonely. It’s not just that I’m out here far from the city. It’s the isolation that cuts me, the ache of having no one, sharper on days when I can’t tell a soul how shitty my day was. Scowling that I could be this vulnerable, I stare into the darkness peppered with white.
Fuck. I’m in my head too much.
But it’s not only my head. This loneliness I never asked for is in my heart, too. It’s a deep hole in my soul that I doubt anyone will fill. A missing piece I sincerely don’t think I’ll find in anyone I’ll meet in this life—
The sound of a door opening and slamming shut yanks me out of my reverie. I spin instantly, hearing the commotion of someone entering.
Who the hell is here?
“Easy,” Viktor warns. “Don’t—”
“Ah!”
“—slip,” he tells the woman who cries out in alarm.
“What the…” Cutting across the room toward the foyer, I shove my phone in my pocket.
I round the corner, frowning at Viktor holding on to a woman. Blonde hair covers her face in disarray, but she’s still limping—or slipping—as he assists her toward the nearest loveseat.
Viktor nods at me as a greeting, proving he’ll never lose that uncanny awareness of when I’m near and when he needs to explain. “She was driving along the road and skidded off it just now.”
She jerks her head up, realizing he’s not speaking to her, but someone else. With how quickly she lifts her face, though, she winces in pain. “Ow.”
“Are you all right?” I cross the marble floor, ready to assist. Viktor can manage. There’s nothing he can’t figure out how to handle, but something about the twisted pain in her delicate expression gets to me. She’s not gasping like she can’t carry on. She’s not wincing like she’s about to keel over or pass out. Instead, as soon as her wince of pain comes, she shakes her head and scowls, like she’s annoyed.
“Yes. I’m fine. I’ll be absolutely fine—” She sucks in another hiss as she takes a step away from Viktor, seemingly to prove that she can stand on her own. “Ah!”
Now she presses a hand to her back, arching it like she’s in more distress.
“Doesn’t seem like it,” I comment, reaching for her right arm, shooting my hand out to brace her so she won’t fall.
At my touch, she bucks forward again and hisses. The wet back of her shirt confuses me, but I’m too caught up in the way she jolts through another stiff attempt to stand straight. And a whine of pain. Or maybe it’s a growl of frustration.
“Ice,” she states quickly. She reaches the back of her shirt and tugs at it. “Sorry. I’ll clean up this mess.”
“No worries, miss,” Viktor says as he stays close to keep her upright.
“I’ll mop it,” she says, letting his reply go in one ear and out the other. “I don’t want you to slip.” Finally turning to face me, she frowns slightly. “Or you. Sorry to barge in here and make a mess and…”
“Barge?” I glance at Viktor.
“No, you’re not barging,” my assistant tells her.
“Okay. Not barge,” she amends sheepishly, still pulling her shirt away as bits of ice and snow fall from the gap.