Total pages in book: 87
Estimated words: 83195 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 416(@200wpm)___ 333(@250wpm)___ 277(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 83195 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 416(@200wpm)___ 333(@250wpm)___ 277(@300wpm)
“I’m sorry, but at least my home has any type of style. Have you seen your brother’s attempt at home decor?”
A vein in her temple pulses, and she smooths a hand over her dress. “He won’t allow me to decorate for him. He’s told me multiple times no.”
A mischievous thought comes to mind. Maybe it’s the bump to the head. Or a small part of me who wants to get back at Alek a little for all the confusing hell he’s put me through these past weeks.
“Okay, but he hasn’t said no to me.” I smile at her.
That’s when I see her smile for the first time.
“No, I guess he hasn’t.”
CHAPTER 17
Aleksandr
When I walk into my house, I see it’s full of furniture—a lot of it. And a brunette is sitting on a couch in my living room with her feet tucked under her ass as she laughs at something on the TV. The TV I didn’t have before.
The color scheme has changed, and I squint into the corner where there’s a vase full of fresh flowers. Daisies, to be precise.
“You break into everyone’s house and fill it with furniture?” I ask, scanning the space. I should’ve known better than to leave my sister and Lena alone together, but Anya doesn’t take a liking to anyone. But she’ll also find a loophole in any situation.
I told her she couldn’t change anything in my house. So she used this ray of sunshine to do it. Then again, I don’t think Lena would let anyone use her.
She flicks her hair over her shoulder and looks up at me as she chews on some popcorn, then holds out the bowl to me in offering.
“Want some?” My stomach growls, but I pin her with a stare until she answers my previous question. “And no, you technically bought it. I just used your card, the one you told your sister to use.” She winks as she holds up the popcorn, somewhat smug with herself. I reach in and grab a handful. “Your sister’s a vault. She wouldn’t give me much in the way of details about you. But she loves you, that’s for sure.”
“We’re twins,” I tell her, and her eyes go wide.
“Oh, I see. That’s why.”
“Why what?”
“You both seem to hate the world.” She smiles and pops another piece of popcorn into her mouth as she turns her attention back to the TV.
It’s peculiar that she’s made herself right at home, considering how much she fears me. But right now, I don’t notice a hint of that previous trepidation. Maybe that bump to the head really got to her.
“Aren’t you getting a little too cozy here?” I ask.
She shrugs, her gaze not shifting from the television. “Hanging around your sister makes you less scary. Besides, when was the last time you actually had a guest over?”
“Guest’s are those who are invited,” I remind her.
“’You’re only a guest if it’s a home. Now, because of your sister and me, this place is a home. And, honestly, I wanted to see your face when you walked in,” she says with a smile, then crunches down on another piece of popcorn.
The nerve of this woman. I can only imagine it was spending time with my sister today that encouraged this type of confidence in her. And, for some reason, I haven’t thrown her out yet.
I look back to the television.
“What are you watching?” I scrunch my nose up as a screeching woman yells at another, her hands waving around and tears streaming down her face.
“Oh, The Real Housewives. I’m obsessed,” she says giddily.
I let out a sigh and undo the top three buttons on my shirt. “Can you be obsessed somewhere that’s not my house?”
“No. I ordered dinner, and it should be here soon. Shopping all day makes me hungry.” She turns the TV up louder as the doorbell rings. “Wow. What timing. You can get that since you’re standing, and make sure you tip,” she yells, not looking back over her shoulder.
I glance around, almost expecting to be recorded so this can somehow be used against me for blackmail or used against me by Anya.
When I realize it’s just us, I’m baffled that she’s telling me what to do. Yet I find myself walking to the door and opening it to find a teenager holding a bag of food.
“That will be fifty-five dollars, please.” He holds out his hand expectantly. When he looks up at me, he turns pale. I have that effect on people.
“She didn’t pay?” I ask.
He’s nervous as he shakes his head. “No, sir. She called to place the order. Payment is due on delivery.”
Reaching into my pocket, I pull out a hundred dollars and drop it into his hand.
“I don’t have change for that,” he’s quick to say.
“Keep the change,” I tell him, closing the door once I grab the bag of food.