Total pages in book: 80
Estimated words: 75814 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 379(@200wpm)___ 303(@250wpm)___ 253(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 75814 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 379(@200wpm)___ 303(@250wpm)___ 253(@300wpm)
The guy darts forward, picks up the button, and holds it out to me. “We h-have a seamstress b-backstage who can sew it b-b-back on for you.”
I think about it for a second or two before nodding. “Thanks. I’d appreciate it.”
He gives me a nervous smile as he begins to walk toward the side door. “I’m Oliver.”
His Adam’s apple bobs as he swallows, and he reminds me a lot of Artem.
Softening my tone so I don’t make him more anxious, I say, “Lead the way.”
As he walks ahead of me, he keeps glancing back, and when we head down a corridor, a man sees me coming and steps back into an open doorway.
Coming around a corner, I notice a group of people, then a woman makes a beeline for me.
Fuck. Sofia.
The lead actress flashes me a flirty smile as if I’m some fucking prize she’s won. She reaches for my arm, but I step away before she can touch me.
Her features tighten for a second, then she says, “I’m so glad you accepted my invite.”
With a cold tone, I reply, “I didn’t.”
This time her smile drops completely, and she frowns at me. “Then why are you backstage?” She flips her hair over her shoulder and tries again. “Join me for a couple of drinks.” Then her expression turns seductive, and her voice is annoyingly husky. “I promise I’ll make it worth your time.”
Wanting to get this over with, I adjust my wristwatch while saying, “You’re not my type.”
Her expression quickly morphs into one of pure indignation.
Before Sofia can think of a reply, I indicate for Oliver to continue walking and follow him to an open doorway. I glance into the room, which is filled with costumes and rolls of fabric, then my eyes lock on a woman.
She’s standing by one of the rails, checking a dress and other pieces that were used for the play.
I watch as she writes something on a scrap of paper before pinning it to the fabric. Her blond hair spills over her shoulders as she reaches for a pair of gloves.
My gaze burns over every curve of her body, loving how the dress cups her full breasts, giving me an eye-full of the most perfect cleavage I’ve ever seen.
God damn.
Just one look at the woman has my cock twitching because she’s fucking beautiful and exactly my type.
“Anastasia?” Oliver clears his throat when she glances at us.
While I’m entranced by her stunning features, he says, “There’s a gentleman w-who needs a b-button sewn b-b-back onto his jacket. I t-told him you w-won’t mind helping.” His face turns beet red, then he mutters, “I-I need to get b-back to work.”
He hurries down the hallway, leaving me alone with the woman.
Anastasia. The name suits her.
When I step into the room, our eyes meet for the first time. Her green irises remind me of moss, and I feel another strong pull of attraction.
Anastasia’s hand pauses on the hanger she’s about to slide to the side as her gaze drifts over me, then her body tenses enough for me to notice, and caution creeps over her face.
I’m used to people reacting like this around me. Someone in my line of work, who deals with the most sadistic fuckers in the world on a daily basis, tends to make normal people’s fight-or-flight instinct kick in. Danger hangs around me like a cloak, and most of them can sense it.
But as I look at the beautiful blond, the last thing I want to do is scare her.
Stepping closer, I keep my tone soft as I say, “I can see you’re busy.” The corner of my mouth lifts slightly. “Would you mind helping?”
Anastasia swallows before nodding. “Not at all.” Her voice is sweet as she comes closer. “Can I see the button?”
I hand it to her before shrugging my jacket off, my eyes not leaving her. Taking the jacket, her gaze darts to mine before she quickly looks away and walks to a table that’s situated against the wall on the other side of the room.
Wanting to come across as less threatening, I pull out one of the chairs by another table and sit down. Digging my phone out of my pocket, I quickly send Andrei a text telling him I won’t be out soon so he and Sergei don’t come in guns blazing, thinking something has happened to me. Both men have been with me for close to a decade and tend to be overprotective.
I hear people laughing, and it sounds like someone is giving a speech.
“Sorry for keeping you,” I say, my eyes drinking in every inch of her.
Christ, no woman has ever caught my attention the way this one has.
She’s young, though. Probably early twenties.
Anastasia shakes her head while sewing the button on way too fucking fast for my liking. “You’re not keeping me.”