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)
A conceited grin curls my top lip when I recall the cause of Mikhail’s slow chase. Since comms were back in operation, we knew who would enter the elevator on level sixty-three before the doors opened, but Mikhail refused to follow my ruse until I kicked him hard enough to give him a permanent limp.
Not even the full deeds of Brody’s could get him over the line during our rushed negotiations to find Zoya before anyone in our father’s crew.
I should be pleased I pulled the wool over Mikhail’s eyes as well as our father’s, but I’m not.
I am too tenacious to admit my worries center around Zoya also believing our meeting was solely about a payout for her silence, so I’ll blame it on knowing there’s currently more than one woman in Chelabini with my sperm inside her.
That’s fucked to even consider, and my mother would be mortified.
The remembrance places on my game face with barely a second to spare.
My father is at my side, signaling over a woman most men would hand over a fortune to bed.
Arabella has class, sophistication, and beauty. She just lacks the tenacity that makes Zoya such a firecracker. There’s no stubbornness to crack, no willfulness to bend. She was made to fit the mold instead of demanding its reproduction to ensure the perfect cast.
She’s boring, and I’m a prick who struggles to hide her deficiencies when she holds out her hand in offering as any gushing bride-to-be would when approaching their spouse. I stuff my hands into my pockets before shifting on my feet to face my father.
“What’s going on?” My tone speaks the words I can’t say with an audience. Why the fuck are you railroading me again?
This is his third incident today.
There is pushing the limits, and then there is completely overriding them.
His interference today is the latter.
My answer comes from a woman who needs to learn her place. “We figured with the media in surplus from your father’s first visit home in years, that it would be the prime opportunity to announce your engagement.” Dina, Arabella’s mother, curls her hand over the one I left hanging before tugging Arabella in closer like she has more say than my soon-to-be wife. “Kolya is confident it will increase your father’s lead in the latest polls by two percent.”
She gleams like I should be impressed.
I am far from it.
Her response is the exact reason I want to return my family name to the notoriety it once held. My ancestors didn’t hold press conferences to settle a debate on who is the most powerful. They battled like Vikings and siphoned enough blood from their enemies’ veins to fill the rivers of Russia.
They could marry who they wanted, when they wanted, without the absurdity of multiple events in the lead-up to the exchange of vows they had no plan to uphold.
It wasn’t about giving constituencies something to discuss around the watercooler with the hope of securing their vote at the next election.
They did what they wanted when they wanted.
So as you can imagine, it took everything I had to pretend I’m fine with the federation’s decision to refuse to acknowledge any paperwork I endorsed this morning until my family’s dynasty receives some sort of shebang from my fuckup, and that a future presidential puppet wasn’t conceived last night.
The only reason I agreed to go along with their suggestions was because Zoya was leaving my premises faster than my sleep-deprived head could come up with a better solution.
My smarts dip when I’m tired.
They’re wholly obliterated when my dick takes over the reins.
It wants Zoya as much as I do, and although my “marriage” will have her vying to deny her attraction to me, she won’t ever pull the wool over my eyes.
Betrothed or not, she wants me.
Her thirst is as obvious as the front row of journalists hoping they’re misreading the brief my grandfather’s head of staff is giving them. They’d rather I announce a bid for candidacy than an alteration to my relationship status.
Though I doubt either revelation will simmer their efforts for an exclusive for long. I’m propositioned more by members of the media than by any other field.
Freebies from high-end prostitutes is a close second.
Desperate for two seconds of peace so I can work through some of my confusion, I head for the podium-like stage my father’s team would have ensured was covered with his campaign flyers seconds after being erected.
Arabella and her mother fall into step behind me when I tap the microphone to announce the start of the conference I was unaware would be occurring this morning, much less with the scent of another woman’s arousal on my cock and lips.
With my thoughts immediately veering to how delicious Zoya tastes, I keep my statement as brief as the one Dina issued earlier in my office before I step back to allow the press the opportunity of adding images to the featured stories they’ll run within the hour.