Total pages in book: 67
Estimated words: 68102 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 341(@200wpm)___ 272(@250wpm)___ 227(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 68102 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 341(@200wpm)___ 272(@250wpm)___ 227(@300wpm)
Not that she could start anything with a member of the Irish Mafia.
Sacha would never allow it.
Six months later . . .
He was sitting at a table in the back of Solynshko.
Alone.
Sofia loved it when Colm came in on his own. It meant that she could speak more freely to him than when his boss or her cousin were around.
A rush of giddiness went through her, making her feel a bit lightheaded.
Sheesh. Anyone would think she was a lovesick teenager.
Get it together, Sofia.
She headed his way before she could stop herself.
It was like he was a magnet pulling her closer and closer, yet she was unable to resist him. She wasn’t the only one. She’d seen the way her staff stared at him.
Both male and female.
Colm was strong and confident in a way that wasn’t at all asshole-ish. It was a hard mix to pull off, but he did it.
“Good evening. You came back for the pelmeni, huh?” she asked, referencing the dumplings he was currently eating.
He grinned up at her. “I’m addicted, and I haven’t been able to get my fix for a while.”
“You’ve been busy?”
She was trying to act casual but wasn’t sure she successfully pulled it off. The fact was that she’d absolutely noticed that he hadn’t been around much lately. If he had been, it was after the restaurant closed and she’d gone home.
And she’d missed him.
It wasn’t healthy. She really needed to push him out of her mind, but she couldn’t stop herself from thinking about him.
“Yeah,” he said tiredly. “What about you, lass? You’ve been busy?”
“A lot has happened,” she replied.
Colm leaned back in his chair and wiped his mouth with his napkin. Jeez, that really shouldn’t be sexy.
But it was.
What was wrong with her?
“Sofia, I was wondering if you’d like to—”
“Ahh, there you are, Kulkolka,” the voice said from behind her.
Shit. Fuck.
Why did he have to turn up now? What had Colm been about to say?
Had he been going to ask her out?
That would be just her rotten luck to get the one thing she’d wanted since she’d met him.
“Kulkolka?” Colm repeated as Oleg’s wrapped his arm around her waist, pushing her into him.
Sofia had to fight hard to keep the revulsion and fear off her face. Oleg smelled like garlic and onions, and while she liked both of those things, his scent was fast turning her stomach.
God, she hated him.
“It mean, little doll,” Oleg said gleefully in his broken English. “Isn’t she beautiful? Just like doll.”
She hated that nickname and Oleg knew that. Sofia knew she had to be careful to hide her true thoughts and feelings around Oleg, though.
“Don’t think we met,” Oleg said in that slimy voice that had vomit rising into her throat. “I am Oleg, Sofia’s boyfriend.”
God.
It was horrifying hearing him call himself that. Her stomach rolled and she had to swallow hastily, worried she would actually vomit.
You have to do better than this, Sofia.
“Boyfriend?” A look of shock filled Colm’s face before it disappeared just as quickly, and he appeared only mildly interested.
Oleg squeezed her side when she didn’t say anything.
Play your part, Sofia.
“Sorry. Yes, this is Oleg. My boyfriend. He moved here from Russia a few months ago. It’s . . . new, but we’re very happy.”
“You look it.”
She couldn’t tell if Colm was being sarcastic or not. She certainly didn’t feel the slightest bit happy.
“Well, we better get back to work,” Oleg said. “Come on, Kulkolka.”
“It was good to see you again, Colm,” she said.
“You too, Sofia.”
Sofia? Not lass?
Ouch. That hurt, but she got it.
She understood it all too well.
1
“Sofia, let me help you with that.”
Sofia looked up. A long way up. She smiled gratefully at Colm as he grabbed the heavy crate from her hands.
Her back instantly thanked her. She really shouldn’t have been lifting the crate, but it had to be moved.
“Why are you doing this?” he asked. “Don’t you have employees to handle this? Where’s Oleg?”
Sofia bit back a sigh of longing at the way his muscles contracted as he lifted the crate higher and carried it through the backdoor of Solnyshko, the restaurant she co-owned with her cousin.
Solynshko meant sun in Russian; it had been her father’s nickname for her. Her father had emigrated from Russia when he was thirty-four, but he’d done his best to keep his native language alive in their house, even though she’d been born here in the states.
Sofia had never known her mother. She’d died after giving birth to her. And her father had hated talking about her, claiming that the pain was still too raw.
Colm wore a short-sleeved, tight T-shirt, giving her an excellent view of his thick biceps. She swore his biceps were thicker than her thighs.
What would it be like to be wrapped up in those arms?
Safe. She would feel safe.
Colm wouldn’t allow anyone to harm her. She gently touched her wrist, making sure her sleeve covered the new bruises.