Total pages in book: 192
Estimated words: 189782 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 949(@200wpm)___ 759(@250wpm)___ 633(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 189782 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 949(@200wpm)___ 759(@250wpm)___ 633(@300wpm)
The security guards discreetly position themselves to keep a watchful eye on us and the surroundings.
Everyone stares.
Walking between Monty and Leo, I’ve never felt so exposed and scrutinized. How do they deal with this level of attention everywhere they go?
And where’s Kody?
Frantically searching the throngs of people, I let out a huge breath when I spot him behind the bar.
The bar itself is a work of art, hand-carved from a massive piece of timber and polished to a warm glow. And the owner…
He doesn’t wear a tuxedo like Monty, Leo, and most other men here. No, he’s dressed in starched jeans and a Henley, the fabric gripping his muscled frame in all the right places. His beard is gone, but the stubble on his jaw casts shadows over his striking features, giving him an air of rugged sophistication. This is dressed up for my caveman, a roughened, refined look that suits him perfectly.
He pours and serves drinks but is more than just a bartender. He’s a storyteller, guiding guests through the rich history and intricate process of vodka making.
He looks up as we approach, and a galaxy of stars shines in his black eyes, transforming his broody expression into pure joy.
“Frankie.” His dark drawl hitches my breath as he abandons his customers and prowls straight to me. “You made it.”
“Wouldn’t miss this for the world.”
“Christ, woman.” He steps into me, raking those predatory eyes up and down my body. “You’re a goddamn meal.”
His deep, slow words rumble, reverberating through sinew and bone. He’s my comfort. My home.
“The place looks incredible.” Monty grips Kody’s neck and hauls him in for a hug, a rare display of affection that makes my pulse flutter. “Congratulations.”
“Couldn’t have done it without you.” Kody leans back, resting a hand on Monty’s jaw. “Thank you. For everything. I mean it.”
“You’re welcome.” With a smirk, Monty scans the bustling, crowded establishment. “Looks like my investment is paying off.”
“You’ve outdone yourself.” Leo leans against the bar and hooks one of those muscle-packed arms around me, pulling me back into the safety of his body. “What’s a guy gotta do around here to get a drink for his girl?”
“Our girl is getting a private tour by the owner.” Kody turns, motioning over one of the female bartenders. “Hey, Sophie. Pour my brothers the good stuff. I’ll be back.”
Kody snatches my hand, steals me away from Leo, and tugs me through the crowd.
I glance back, snagging on Monty’s unreadable eyes. He looks like he might chase us. Then he blinks and directs more guards to follow the two that already trail us.
An endless line of people stop Kody as we pass. Or they try anyway. He greets them with quick nods and rushed words without slowing. We breeze through intimate lounges and into a deep, long room.
“The tasting room.” He waves a hand around and tugs me forward. “It’s where you taste stuff.”
Despite the number of people, the space feels like a well-orchestrated gathering. Clusters of guests form organic, fluid circles around the tasting tables. Employees scatter among them, encouraging the patrons to feel the grains and smell the fresh water sourced from nearby glacial streams.
A massive window offers a view of the distillery room, connecting guests to the process that brings their drinks to life.
I was hoping for a tour of that, but he drags me past it and into the kitchen.
The delicious aroma of cooking seeps into my lungs, and I laugh as he practically jogs past the chefs.
“Kody, slow down.” I dig in my heels. “Walk me through the menu.”
With a grunt—and seemingly great effort—he pauses and gestures at some of the prepared dishes. “Each dish is designed to enhance the flavors of the alcohol. The smoked salmon is served with a dill-infused vodka.”
He rambles off a few more main courses and their vodka pairings, barely giving me time to absorb the rustic charm of the kitchen before tugging me toward the next room.
The distillery itself.
“Shiny room where magic happens.” He moves quickly past the intricate equipment, not letting me linger. “It’s shiny and magical.”
“You’re a terrible tour guide.” I pause to admire the stills, only to be tugged forward again. “Worse than Wolf when he showed me Hoss.”
I mean, I get it. He has a full house, hundreds of patrons waiting for his attention. I can tour his place anytime.
Once my life is safe again.
“We’ll come back to that,” he says when I slow down to admire the gleaming rows of vodka bottles with the Strakh logo.
I don’t complain and let him haul me along, skipping the fascinating details and speeding through the heart of the distillery.
Finally, we reach a door at the back. I don’t remember it being there when the renovations began.
One of his personal guards stands beside it, nodding at Kody as we approach.
“Is it secure?” Kody asks.