Total pages in book: 67
Estimated words: 65593 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 328(@200wpm)___ 262(@250wpm)___ 219(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 65593 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 328(@200wpm)___ 262(@250wpm)___ 219(@300wpm)
He knows it, too. He shoots me a resentful look. “So we’re good?”
“Da.” I purposely say nothing more to make his brain work.
“Like… good-good?”
“Nyet.”
“Aw, come on with the Russian one-word answers. What’s the deal?”
I smile. This is why I like the kid. He’s not in any position of power, but he’s still willing to throw some weight around and make demands. If he ever gets his shit together, he could go far in this world.
Or he could crash and burn.
Which would be a shame for that cute sister of his, who seems to care a shit-ton about him.
“No payment required next week. It may take me a bit to liquidate the ring. I’ll let you know what I get for it and what else I need from you. And you’re still not welcome at my table.”
He bobs his head. “Okay. Thanks.” There’s still that note of sulky resentment in his voice. I guess he won’t be coming back to my table once he’s cleared his debt. Which is probably for the best, but I do miss his presence. Except I miss the charismatic conversationalist Zane, not the coked out asshole Zane.
“I’ll take the jacket, too.” I’m being a dick. Rubbing his nose in it. Whatever. I let him off easy compared to most.
“What? No. This isn’t worth that much, and I’ll freeze my ass off out there.”
It’s true. Autumn has fallen in Chicago and the temperatures plummeted this week. Being from Russia, it’s nothing to me, but Zane will be cold in his shirtsleeves.
“Take it off.”
“Now you’re just being a dick.”
Oleg steps forward menacingly and Zane flinches. “Okay, fine. Have my jacket.” He peels it off and slaps it down on the table. “Anything else you want? My underwear? Socks?”
I smirk and hold his gaze without saying anything.
He shakes his head and starts to leave then turns back. “How much for the jacket?”
My smile grows wider because I was waiting for him to ask. I could easily tell him it’s mine as a late penalty, but instead I shrug. “Fifty.”
He nods and leaves without another word.
“Dude, why are you giving him a pass?” Dima asks. “I mean, I liked him, too, but he turned into a douche.”
I shrug. “Maybe a little redirection will put him back on the right path.”
It’s not that I’m invested now because I met his spark-plug of a sister.
Dima watches me thoughtfully. It’s hard to hide anything from a twin. “You like his sister.” He shoots it out like an accusation.
Adrian and Oleg both swivel to stare at me.
Blyad’.
No sense in denying it. It would only make Dima ride me harder.
“I wouldn’t mind taking her in trade for what Zane owes,” I admit then hold up my hand when I see Adrian’s nostrils flare with a sharp breath. “If she was on board. I don’t take unwilling women.”
But I know I could make Chelle Goldberg willing. I saw how she responded to me.
It would be so easy to melt that resistance and get her to give it all up to me. Especially because she’d do anything to get her brother off my hook.
But I don’t just want a woman who is willing to have sex.
God help me, I’m becoming weak. A total sap. Because I want what my bratva brothers have. Ravil, Maxim, Oleg, Pavel, and Dima.
I want the whole package. I want love.
Chelle
“What’s the latest with Zane?” Shanna, my bestie, is on my couch drinking a mimosa. We don’t get much time to just chill together since I work days and she works nights. I hang out at The Red Room on Wednesdays when she works happy hour instead of the late shift, and about once a month, we do Sunday brunch at my house. A late afternoon one since she sleeps until noon.
This past Wednesday, I’d told her the whole saga of finding Zane beat up and going to meet with the Russians to make a deal.
“He offered up his motorcycle to Nikolai on Friday. I haven’t heard anything since. I guess I should text to make sure he’s still alive.” I say it, but I don’t make any move to grab my phone. Zane was right when he said he’s of no use to them dead. If he brought his motorcycle to them, I’m sure they took it, and he’s fine.
“So it’s Nikolai now, hmm?” Shanna teases, waggling her brows. “You’re on a first name basis with this Russian loan shark?”
My face grows warm, but I own it. “Nikolai, the scary-but-sexy bookie. And no, he told me never to come back.”
“I sort of love him for that,” Shanna says, draining her glass and setting it on my coffee table. “It’s kind of gallant. Like he was trying to protect you.”
“You can’t love the guy who beat my brother up. Do I need to show you the picture of his face again?”