Total pages in book: 60
Estimated words: 56572 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 283(@200wpm)___ 226(@250wpm)___ 189(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 56572 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 283(@200wpm)___ 226(@250wpm)___ 189(@300wpm)
“W-warn me?” she stutters when I don’t go on.
I was going to tell her that if she uses the internet to feed information to her father, we’re going to have a problem. But I can’t bring myself to threaten her. I might be the spare, but every Bratva man sometimes has to do bad things. However, I can’t with Mila.
“The connection can be choppy,” I tell her, bailing out.
“Oh, okay. I’m sure I’ll survive.”
“I’ll leave you to it, then.”
I quickly leave the room, my heart pounding so damn hard, my head swimming with thoughts of Mila Petrov. What if I’d just kissed her right then? What if I’d slid my hand around her waist, down to her thick ass, massaged, and indulged?
“Are you okay?” Ania asks, waiting for me at the bottom of the stairs.
My half-sister has always caused a mix of emotions in me. She’s a clear sign Konstantin cheated on my mother. However, as Dimitri has reminded me many times, our father probably cheated on her dozens, if not hundreds of times, and it’s not Ania’s fault. That’s true. Maybe it’s my eighteen-year-old half-sister’s thin build or how she unnervingly stares at whoever she’s talking to.
“Yeah, fine. Why?”
She shrugs, making me feel guilty. My tone came out too harsh, but dammit. I want to return to Mila’s side again—my brother’s future wife.
I reach out and touch her hand, making myself do it. Ania doesn’t deserve my coldness. “Thanks for asking,” I tell her.
“What’s she like?” Ania says a moment later.
“Why don’t you go and say hello?”
Ania’s eyes flash with nerves, and she shakes her head. “Maybe later. I want to practice some more.”
Ania spends much of her time in the underground studio practicing ballet. Just like me with programming, it’s her escape. I head to the gym, blasting music and lifting wights. As different as Dimitri and I are, at least we have this in common. When we want to distract ourselves, we lift until our muscles burn.
After showering, I step into the kitchen to make some coffee. Mila is standing in the garden, her back to me, letting me stare like a creep at the hourglass shape of her body. When she folds her arms across her middle, something in her posture tells me she’s used to being afraid. My blood boils at the thought, and I find myself wishing I could beat the crap out of any monster who’d ever make her feel that way.
“Good workout?” Ania says, appearing behind me. That’s another of her habits that freaks me out. She just appears silently, like a ninja or an eighty-pound woman with ballet slippers.
“It was all right,” I reply. “Have you met Mila yet?”
Ania nods. “We said hello. She seems withdrawn. Nervous?”
“She’s being forced to marry a man she doesn’t even know,” I snap, heading for the door.
I feel like an ass. Ania doesn’t deserve to be spoken to like that. At the same time, thinking of Mila with Dimitri makes me want to howl. He has to marry her unless he wants the Petrovs to take over Vegas. One of the major differences between us and the Petrovs is that Nikolai Petrov has a large hand in human trafficking. We don’t. If he took over Vegas, countless would suffer.
So why does thinking of my brother even touching Mila make me want to hurt him?
Mila doesn’t turn as I step outside. I walk up beside her, making enough noise not to frighten her. She’s got her arms folded tightly, staring into the pool.
“Everything okay?” I ask lamely, but I’m not sure what else to say. I have to be cold and keep my distance. She might be here to marry my brother, but she’s still the enemy—a very lovely one.
“Fine,” she mutters.
“Dimitri should be home soon.”
She folds her arms even tighter. I don’t let myself look down at her for too long. The position of her arms only works to bring attention to her big tits, making them even more tempting. I feel like a bloody teenager when my rod stiffens.
“He’s a good person,” I tell her, ignoring my growing erection. “He won’t hurt you.”
“But I won’t love him,” she replies, still staring at the water, “and he won’t love me.”
“Maybe he will,” I say.
It hurts to force those words out. If Dimitri did love her, it would just piss me off. No, that’s an understatement. It would force me to leave and forget I was ever a Sokolov. I couldn’t watch them.
Snap out of it, Mikhail. Dammit, what am I thinking? She’s nobody to me.
Mila doesn’t respond, but she doesn’t need to. She obviously would prefer not to be here, and can I blame her? Even if she doesn’t want to meet him, she’s gone through the effort of changing into a skirt that makes the tip of my cock ache. Her legs are so thick, so voluptuous. I think about gently biting into her thickness, tasting her sweat, kissing and nibbling up her leg, and her sweet …