Total pages in book: 80
Estimated words: 78511 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 393(@200wpm)___ 314(@250wpm)___ 262(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 78511 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 393(@200wpm)___ 314(@250wpm)___ 262(@300wpm)
My shoulders slump, and I almost start sobbing again. “He doesn’t care about me.” I shove a hand at the windows, and we both look down to where the three friends are still talking. “He hates me. He said when he gets the chance, he’ll kill me.”
Suddenly Misha’s head snaps up, and he looks right at us. Our eyes lock, and like all the times before, I feel the intense attraction and my stomach flutters.
He stares for a moment longer, then he starts to walk away until he’s out of my line of sight.
“That was not a man who hates you,” Abbie says. “You both just stared at each other like you did that night at the club before all hell broke loose. The attraction is still there.”
I shake my head as my heart shrivels. “Not from his side. All I saw was hatred.”
Misha Petrov.
I can almost feel his arms around me.
Closing my eyes again, I try to fight the memory, but after years of dreaming, it pops into my mind without much effort.
The way his mouth felt on mine. How amazing he tasted. His palm against my cheek. His words of strength and comfort.
The attraction.
It was real. Wasn’t it?
Chapter 7
Aurora
After having another good cry, I have to shove all my emotions in a box so we can get ready for our dinner appointment with Director Koslov and his wife.
Abbie leaves to go to her suite, and as the door shuts behind her, I think, ‘Will I see Misha tonight?’
It takes a lot of effort to shove the thought away as I walk to my bathroom. I pour myself a bath and add my favorite Dior bath bomb and pearls. Once the air is filled with my favorite Blooming Blossoms scent, I strip out of my clothes and sink into the warm water.
Placing a damp washcloth over my eyes, I inhale deeply, praying the soft floral scent will help me relax. I don’t want to be an emotional mess at dinner.
I try to focus on the balmy feel of the water but fail miserably as my thoughts turn to Misha.
Misha.
I can’t stop thinking about his name. It feels surreal finally knowing it after two years.
I replay this afternoon in my mind, unable to reconcile the aggressive bratva enforcer with the man I dreamed about for so long.
He was tender and almost loving with me the night we met. The connection was instant.
I told the man my secrets.
Did he tell me the truth? About him being raised in an orphanage? Was I really the only woman he kissed so tenderly? Or was it all a lie?
No. No one can act that well. Plus, Misha wouldn’t have saved me. He would’ve let me die or, even worse, killed me himself.
So the attraction was real? Right?
Ugh. I wish I had the ability to read minds.
Again, I think about the hatred in his eyes, the viciousness in his tone.
It hurts. A lot.
I rip the washcloth off my face and let out a frustrated huff. I wish I’d said something back. Anything! Instead, I just stood there and let his words rain over me like acid.
Letting out a sigh, I pour some body wash onto my loofah and quickly bathe myself. Once I’m done, all my emotions are still a chaotic mess in my chest, and I have no answers to any of my questions.
Not able to cancel the dinner so I can crawl beneath the covers and wallow in my heartbreak, I dry myself off, lather my skin in lotion, and head to the walk-in closet.
Instead of hating Misha, my mind conjures up the fantasy of him waiting in my bedroom.
He sweeps me up in his arms and kisses me until I’m breathless. He explains his cruel words while his eyes hold all the love in the world for me. He lays me down on the bed and worships my body, assuring me I’m the only woman he’ll ever love.
“Stop it!” I snap at myself.
My movements are irritated as I put on a pair of panties and grab an evening gown off a hanger.
I don’t even care what I wear to dinner as I step into the dark jade dress. I add a pair of Dolce & Gabbana heels, and letting my hair out of the clip, I pull a brush through it.
Ugh, I don’t even want to put on makeup but sit down at the dressing table and go through my routine. For a final touch, I decide to wear the emerald platinum jewelry set my parents gave me for my sixteenth birthday.
Let’s just get this night over with, then I can crawl under the covers and mourn the loss of my dream.
When I’m done, I place my suite’s keycard in a clutch purse and walk to Abbie’s room. I knock on the door, and it takes a minute before she opens for me.