Total pages in book: 187
Estimated words: 177397 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 887(@200wpm)___ 710(@250wpm)___ 591(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 177397 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 887(@200wpm)___ 710(@250wpm)___ 591(@300wpm)
His reply returns the thump my heart has been missing for the past few weeks and loosens the strings forcing my movements by a smidge.
It does nothing for the knot in my stomach, though. Carnage is brewing. I just need to hold back the deluge for a few more hours. Zak needs to come first. Once he gets a new heart, I can shift my focus to making the impossible achievable.
61
ZOYA
“Arabella?” One of the many gorgeous dresses Maksim has spoiled Nikita with swishes around her slim thighs when she twists to face me. Her daft expression is cute because of its rarity. “Are we in the right ballroom?”
A heated watch answers her question on my behalf. Maksim left our suite early to finalize some plans he’s been endeavoring to get off the ground for Nikita for the past few weeks. Nikita has been pining after him the entire time. Apparently twenty minutes is too long for soulmates to be apart.
I’d hate to see how she’d handle the weeks I’ve endured.
Although she lights up like a Christmas tree when she spots the cause of the goose bumps breaking across her skin, her feet remain firmly planted next to mine. When she makes a pledge, she keeps it—even if it kills her.
“Arabella is Aleena’s middle name.” After looping my arm around Nikita’s elbow, I commence moving us into the room that’s had my stomach in a state of turmoil all day.
I’m nervous about coming face-to-face with my mother again, but the unease making my composure a mess seems like more than ghosts of my past rearing their ugly heads. It feels more present and personal—like a mother’s hate isn’t as personal as it gets.
Perhaps it is knowing Ano accompanied me here? Even without photographic proof, I’m one hundred percent convinced Ano is Bayli. The timelines match, not to mention the lengths my mother will go to rid the people she deems unsuitable from her daughters’ lives.
I just don’t know how to break the news to either Aleena or Ano.
When the cause for Nikita’s weighed-down steps smack into me, I endeavor to lessen the load. I did a ton of cardio this morning. I don’t need more spasms hitting my midsection.
“My mother was only permitted to assign our middle names. She hated the names our father picked for us, so she encouraged us to use the names she selected for anything of importance. College admissions. Pageant shows. Pretty much anything that could result in it being used in print. I ditched her choice around the same time she ditched me.”
“Z…”
When the devastation in her voice makes my nose tingle, I hit her with a stern finger point. “Don’t. If you start, I’ll start, and then we will both be screwed.”
She bumps me with her hip. “Lucky our mascara is waterproof.”
“I wasn’t talking about makeup.” I stray my eyes to the side and then arch a brow like any of the heat from Maksim’s stare belongs to me. It doesn’t, but if a girl doesn’t occasionally stroke her ego, she may never build up the courage to give self-stimulation a go.
I am in such a severe sexual rut I’m convinced not even the most powerful sex toy will scratch the surface of my needs, but for some crazy reason, I’ve not given any of them the chance to shine.
My PG peck with Mikhail must have loosened a few screws in my head.
I’ve never felt more batshit crazy.
“Maksim will never hurt you,” Nikita says, her voice a purr. The cause of its throatiness is exposed when she murmurs, “Unless you hurt me. There are no guarantees then.”
“As there shouldn’t be.” I love how protective Maksim is of her and that she is slowly starting to accept that it is part of the package when you fall in love.
I’m thankful for the excuse to gag when Nikita asks, “So… what’s your middle name?”
I’d hate to be seen as a sentimental schmuck while in a room full of people who believe they can buy anything for the right price. The aroma in the air is rife with old money, and that stigma usually attracts reared-for-purpose brides.
It doubles my worry that Aleena is more under our mother’s thumb than she portrayed during her bachelorette weekend, but I won’t have a chance to check without enduring the tornado racing my way.
My mother has spotted my arrival, and despite being surrounded by powerful men vying for her attention, she doesn’t hide her disdain.
“Please excuse me,” she murmurs before making a beeline for me, standing frozen partway into the ballroom hosting Aleena’s rehearsal dinner.
I don’t want to make a scene. It will make my endeavor to speak to Aleena in a calm, understanding manner ten times harder, but I also refuse to be kicked out of the festivities again.
I was invited, goddamn it. It may have been by the means of a Post-it note, but Maksim and Nikita’s invitation was very much legitimate, and even if they wish for the opposite a minimum of once a day, we’re a unit. We’re on the same team.