Total pages in book: 172
Estimated words: 155984 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 780(@200wpm)___ 624(@250wpm)___ 520(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 155984 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 780(@200wpm)___ 624(@250wpm)___ 520(@300wpm)
Flambé heard the enthusiasm in his voice, but she had to be so careful not to be entirely sucked in. Just the fact that he’d said those things to his cousin about finding a submissive, one on their first life cycle, was another strike against him. It didn’t matter how much she loved sex with him or how compatible they were when it came to sex. Eventually, she knew how things ended up with shifters.
She wanted the enthusiasm for the project to be as real later as it was right then. A garden for them was a project they could do together. She wanted something that was theirs. Something they could start their life going forward with. In a perfect world, he would support her business and her need to continue rescuing shifter species as their numbers in the world diminished. She would do her best to understand what he did and try to be supportive. Sadly, she’d seen too much of shifter life. The real world didn’t work that way.
“I’ve got the schedule worked out, Sevastyan.” She tried to suppress a yawn. All she really wanted to do was sleep. “My crew will be working on the property in three weeks. That will give me enough time to figure out all the trees, plants and design work, order them, the dirt we’ll need and . . .” She trailed off, waving her hand. “I’ll take care of the details.”
“You do that. I’ll take care of the other details.” He stood up easily, with her still in his arms.
“What would those be?”
“The marriage license. Where. When. Those kinds of things.”
Her heart stuttered. That couldn’t happen, no matter what kind of fairy tale she wanted to be living in.
9
SEVASTYAN stared out the window of his cousin’s large pool room. He’d known all along the day of reckoning would be coming. No one ever escaped it forever. He had hoped for a little more time. Mitya had already gone through so much and he and Ania had barely started their lives together. They were still dancing around each other, madly in love, but not quite in sync yet.
He sighed and glanced at the door leading to the hallway. Flambé was in a small office most likely hunched over her desk, drawing various sketches for her clients— and for him—to look over. She amazed him with her endless ideas. They were brilliant. She was brilliant. He’d had no time with her. None.
They knew very little about each other and hadn’t managed to establish much in the way of trust. He hoped the things he’d told her, what little of himself he’d given her, was enough to get them through the hell that was coming.
Their relationship hadn’t progressed no matter how hard he’d tried to move it forward. There were reasons she couldn’t get married. She rarely told him anything personal about herself. She responded eagerly to sex wherever and whenever he initiated it, but rarely wanted to be touched outside otherwise. She didn’t pull away from him, but she never held his hand or reached out to him, touching his body, especially if anyone else was around. He found their relationship frustrating at times because he didn’t understand it—and her leopard had been stubbornly silent, adding to the frustration. Sevastyan knew he wasn’t the best at relationships. He had no idea how to be a good partner to a woman, but he tried.
Now, it seemed, time for them had run out. Flambé had courage, but she wasn’t a violent person. He was extremely violent. She might fight beside him if she absolutely had to, and he doubted if she would hesitate to kill, but she wasn’t the type of person to walk up, stick a gun to someone’s head and pull the trigger. She would definitely not be okay with the kinds of things he did in his job. The premise of their work might appeal to her, but not the actual day-to-day process.
He closed his eyes and shook his head. Mitya knew she wasn’t like the other women. He’d told Sevastyan. Warned him. Lectured him. Sevastyan didn’t need the warnings or the lectures. It was far too late for all of them—especially Flambé. She had to find a way to live with him. He swore to himself he would make things as easy on her as possible, but now, with this new development, life was going to be hell for all of them.
There was no putting off the inevitable and he strode out of the room and down the hall to his cousin’s study. Mitya was at his desk reading the reports Drake Donovan sent him on the latest crimes and who they needed to hit and when. Sevastyan didn’t bother to knock. He just walked in and shut the door, indicating to Mitya he didn’t want anyone, even their most trusted men, to overhear the conversation.