Total pages in book: 74
Estimated words: 68931 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 345(@200wpm)___ 276(@250wpm)___ 230(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 68931 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 345(@200wpm)___ 276(@250wpm)___ 230(@300wpm)
As far as I can tell, that’s about the only unique thing about me. Beauty is nothing special in our circles; throw a rock at a party, and it’ll bounce off a supermodel. But as a rule, those women don’t have much to offer beyond their perfect bodies and symmetrical faces. I do. I have billions in assets and the kinds of connections only generational power can bring. The Leonovs don’t need that, strictly speaking—they have enough power and wealth of their own—but having me would still be a coup for Alexei.
I’m arm candy that can’t be bought, and that makes me the ultimate status symbol, a prize worthy of a man who has everything.
Alexei’s eyes narrow. “Is that what—”
“May I clear away the table, sir?”
An unfamiliar woman’s voice speaking Russian startles me into looking up. A short, middle-aged woman with straight, shoulder-length black hair is standing by the table, an apron wrapped around her waist and a waiter’s cart at her side.
“Yes, thank you, Vika,” Alexei says, then pauses and arches an eyebrow at me. “Unless you’re still hungry, Alinyonok?”
As much as I’d like to stretch out this meal for as long as I can, with the storm, it’s only a matter of minutes before all the plates start sliding off the table and the food goes flying. Reluctantly, I shake my head. “I’m done.”
The woman—Vika—swiftly stacks all the dishes onto the cart and wheels it toward the nose of the yacht, where the kitchen must be.
“Thank you,” I call after her belatedly. “Everything was delicious!”
It doesn’t hurt to get on Alexei’s employees’ good side.
She turns her head, flashing a smile that softens her angular face. “It was my pleasure,” she calls back before pushing the cart around the corner and disappearing from sight.
I return my attention to Alexei, hoping to continue the conversation, but he’s already on his feet. “Shall we?” he asks, coming around the table to extend a hand as another bolt of lightning flashes closer. My pulse kicks up, its roar nearly drowning out the ensuing boom of thunder.
This is it.
My reprieve, such as it was, is over.
Chapter 24
5 Months Earlier, Idaho
A reprieve. A refuge. That’s what Nikolai’s remote mountain estate is supposed to be. It’s a timeout from my regular life, a safe place where I don’t have to worry about Alexei. So why do I feel so restless, so uneasy? I can’t stop thinking about him, about what happened in that coat closet, and it’s slowly driving me mad.
Unsettled, I take one last drag on my joint and put it out before heading out of the woods. The pot has been keeping the headaches at bay for the most part, so I haven’t had to resort to anything stronger. I don’t know why I’m having the headaches at all; I can’t imagine a more relaxing place than Nikolai’s new compound.
My brother’s ultra-modern mansion is perched on a cliff, with Instagram-worthy mountain views all around. Despite May being right around the corner, we’ve just had a snowfall, and fresh powder crunches under my boots as I circle around the house to the front door. The air is crisp and pine-scented, so cool and fresh it almost hurts my lungs. Then again, maybe that’s what the problem is. The smell reminds me of Alexei and everything I’m here to escape.
Inhaling another lungful, I open the door and traipse into the house, where I hang up my coat and change out of my boots into a pair of clean shoes—high heels, because even here, I feel more comfortable wearing my glossy shield. Savory smells waft from the kitchen—Pavel is cooking dinner—and a child’s high-pitched voice alerts me to my nephew’s presence in the living room.
My mood lifts instantly, and I smile as I head over there. Slava has quickly become my favorite person. A tiny clone of Nikolai, the child is shy and reticent, especially around his father, but I love having him around. After the first few weeks, during which he understandably regarded us all with deep suspicion, he’s begun to warm up to me, as well as to Pavel and Lyudmila. Nikolai is the exception; for some reason, the two of them can’t find a common language—partially because he insists we speak to the boy in English, so he can adjust to his new life in America. Personally, I don’t think that’s nearly as important as Slava accepting his father, but Nikolai doesn’t listen to me. We don’t exactly have the warmest relationship these days.
I find Slava in the living room, as expected, but instead of Lyudmila, who’s taken on the role of his nanny, Nikolai is with him. My brother is pacing in front of the couch where Slava is sitting, trying to get his son to repeat some English words after him—and failing miserably. Slava is staring at him blankly, stubbornly disinterested. I’m not surprised. Slava has been ignoring my attempts to teach him the language as well.