Total pages in book: 79
Estimated words: 75209 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 376(@200wpm)___ 301(@250wpm)___ 251(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 75209 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 376(@200wpm)___ 301(@250wpm)___ 251(@300wpm)
“Oh no!” Vera says, quickly backtracking. “I just meant he looks scary. He’s quite nice! You don’t need to be afraid of him.”
Right, easier said than done.
And how does she know I’m nice?
When he opens his mouth to scream again, I quickly cover my face with my hand. After a few seconds, when I know I have his undivided attention, I peek through my fingers to see him staring. We begin a fast-paced game of peekaboo which has him giggling with laughter.
Finally, the mother gives the little guy a snack, and a few minutes later, he’s half asleep against her shoulder.
Vera smiles but doesn’t say anything.
The longer we fly, the less comfortable this is, though.
Jesus.
This is bullshit. I pull out my phone when she’s busy reading and text Aleks.
We’re in the smallest seats known to man and I’m spilling half into her lap. Help.
It’s the middle of the night, but thankfully, Aleks is usually a light sleeper, and the kids keep him up. He responds quickly.
Shit, sorry bro. Let me see what I can do.
Tell them to make it sound like a mistake. I don’t want to make anyone suspicious.
When the flight attendant, a young woman with blonde hair in a tight bun at the back of her head, comes up to us a few minutes later, Vera startles. She’s deep into one of the books she brought in her carry-on.
“Vera Ivanova and Markov Pashnik?” she asks with a smile. “Please come with me.”
Aleks pulled through.
She turns to Vera. “You were meant to have an upgrade to first-class. I’m so sorry for the mix-up.” She says the same to me in Russian.
“Oh, thank God,” Vera says. “You speak Russian and English. Can you translate for us?”
The flight attendant nods. “Of course. First, let’s get you settled in your new seats. Unless it’s an urgent matter?”
Vera shakes her head. “Not at all.”
I take my phone and our carry-ons, and she takes her puzzle books, phone, ginger ale, and headphones, balancing them all precariously in her arms. I reach over and take a few of her things to add to my pile.
“Why, thank you.”
I nod silently and follow them to where the plane connects to the first-class section. I breathe a sigh of relief when we see our new seats. The spaciousness and comfort immediately put me at ease. Unlike our previous seats, these fully recline into flat beds. We have a little less than nine hours left, and I don’t know if I could’ve stood much longer in a seat built for a toddler.
“Oh, now this is better,” Vera breathes, laying back on her seat. “I might even get a nap here. It’s like each seat is its own little cocoon.”
“She says these are better seats, and she might even be able to rest,” the flight attendant repeats to me in Russian.
I’m a little disappointed she’s so far away now, but I know it’s just as well.
“Excellent,” I respond in Russian. “Please tell her it will be wise to rest before we arrive. Also, tell her she can rest easy; I will watch over her while she does.”
The flight attendant’s eyes go a little soft, the way a woman’s does when she sees a man do something particularly endearing. She relays the message to Vera.
“Before you go,” Vera says. “Can you please tell him thank you for everything?”
The flight attendant looks from me to her and back to me. “She says thank you.”
In Russian, I respond. “Please tell her, of course, it is my job.”
She looks at Vera and smiles. “He says it is his pleasure.”
That’s not exactly what I said, but the flush of Vera’s cheeks when she says it makes me wish that I had.
With more space between us, it’s easy for me to turn my phone to the side to see what she’s doing. She’s reading again. I take a peek. There’s a feather on the front and a silver lock.
Dominated by The Billionaire Hitman
Author B.N. Honey takes readers on a whirlwind journey into the lavish world of billionaire Maxwell Rodino, a ruthless businessman with a penchant for control. When the young and talented artist enters his world, she’s enraptured in a world of intrigue, luxury, and power. . .
Well, then. Isn’t that interesting, little Miss Vera.
I see a link for a sample preview and quickly click it.
“No, sir,” I said, shaking my head as he circled round me, the short riding crop nearly vibrating with the electric connection between us. “I know better than to make myself come without your permission.”
My phone clatters to the floor. Vera looks up at me in surprise while I quickly grab it before she can see what’s on my screen.
Vera Ivanova is reading a book about rich, powerful men and submission and domination.
It’s just a book. Fiction. Fantasy. It doesn’t mean she’s actually. . . into any of that.