Total pages in book: 87
Estimated words: 82881 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 414(@200wpm)___ 332(@250wpm)___ 276(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 82881 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 414(@200wpm)___ 332(@250wpm)___ 276(@300wpm)
“Do you know her?” Anya asks me as I pull out her chair for her to sit.
Anya is very good at reading people, and nothing ever gets by her. Before I can answer, Patrick stands and reaches his hand out to me. “I don’t enjoy waiting.”
“Apologies. An urgent matter popped up that I had to attend to.” His skeptical gaze shifts to Anya. He and Amanza sit to my right, opposite Anya.
When Patrick pulls back, Amanza has already walked around her brother and leans in for a hug. I casually wrap one arm around her as she says, “It’s good to see you again.” She presses a kiss to my cheek. She lingers a little longer than necessary, as if expecting me to return the kiss. I don’t. She pulls back, seeming slightly confused before she once again takes her seat next to her brother.
Patrick is a necessity in my business. He’s an accountant, and a good one at that, who keeps my money clean. I’ve worked with him for five years now. The accountant I had before that was taking money from me. So now he lies with the dead.
“Patrick, I don’t think you’ve had the pleasure of meeting Anya Ivanov yet, have you?” Patrick looks at Anya, and I can tell right away he appreciates what he sees because he sits a little straighter when introduced. It’s not just her beauty but the demanding, entitled presence of her. She’s a queen in her own right.
“No, I have not,” he says, offering her his hand. She glances at it and then at me. I can imagine the eye roll as she reaches out, no smile—which is not a surprise—and shakes his hand.
“Patrick is from a small town on the coast. You don’t come to New York all that often, do you?” I ask him. I purposely orchestrated this business meeting to showcase to Anya that I already have everything I need in place to work alongside her. There is no liability in solidifying business together.
“No, but I always welcome an invitation for such an offer,” he says, smiling at Anya. “This is Amanza, my sister,” Patrick says to Anya, waving to his sister. She smiles at Anya, and Anya just stares.
I’d be pissed if she smiled freely, considering how hard I’ve had to work for the few she’s thrown my way.
Fuck, I really want her. The image of Anya on her knees, bound by the very belt I’m wearing now, has me shifting uncomfortably again.
I will never have enough of this woman.
“Did you two used to fuck?” Anya asks, turning to face me. Amanza gasps, but I just smirk at her bluntness. I’ve become used to her crude and abrupt nature. Why does a woman who literally has the world at her feet need to pause for pleasantries?
“Yes,” I answer truthfully. Lying to her isn’t necessary, and it isn’t really something I want to do.
She turns to Amanza, picks up her glass of water, and takes a sip of it before she places it back down and asks, “Was he good?” Everyone falls silent, and Amanza opens her mouth in shock.
“I… How could you be so crude?” Amanza asks.
“It was a simple question. Did you or did you not enjoy it when he fucked you?”
Amanza gapes at me.
“You can answer her however you wish,” I tell her, lifting my glass and watching Anya. She doesn’t once glance my way. She’s watching Amanza, and despite how confident she is, Anya has the not-so-subtle skill to break anyone’s resolve.
“Yes, it was good,” Amanza says, her gaze darting around the table.
Patrick seems uncomfortable as he takes a sip of his whisky.
“And are you here hoping he’ll fuck you again?”
“Okay, that’s a little uncalled for,” Patrick interjects, and Anya looks at me.
“Your friend, or business partner, whatever you wish to call each other, intends to fuck me, Patrick, so I would like to know. Definitely if he’s interested in fucking other people, because there’s a room back there he might let her fuck him in.”
“You’re starting to sound jealous, sweetheart,” I say as I grab her hand that rests on the table. She freezes at the touch and most likely the insinuation. I think the only thing Anya has ever been knowingly jealous of is if another woman gives her brother attention.
She offers a sickly-sweet smile. “Just giving you permission to fuck others who might be able to ‘take their fill,’ fuckface,” she adds.
I lean over, rubbing my thumb over hers. “Do I need to teach you another lesson with my belt?” I whisper into her ear loud enough that everyone can hear it.
“Sure, if you actually fuck me while using it,” she replies, not bothering to whisper.
My men are staring at her. Some with awe and others with fascination. She does that—holds people captive.