Total pages in book: 76
Estimated words: 90540 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 453(@200wpm)___ 362(@250wpm)___ 302(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 90540 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 453(@200wpm)___ 362(@250wpm)___ 302(@300wpm)
My gaze lit on my new necklace, laid out on my duvet. Last night, I’d sent a picture of it to the family’s conference line along with a message: Got drama from night before worked out with Sevastyan. Had great dinner. Going on trip tomorrow at 1:00. All good. Please, sleep better.
After I’d signed off, I’d danced naked to A-ha while I packed. I was dying of curiosity about our “warm” destination.
This morning, Karin had called for a real update.
I’d filled her in, admitting, “He gave me a taste of something I don’t think I can live without.” So how would I feel if he took my key away?
“Listen to your voice, Vice,” she’d said. “You’re falling in love with him!”
“No, I’m not.” Falling in lust maybe. But those flashes of crazy kept me on edge. “He’s got more red flags than Soviet Russia. He is obsessed with me. He’s jealous and possessive and controlling.”
“Yet you’re letting him take you on a trip?”
“We’re running out of time.” With Karin’s recent score, Lucía’s watch, my car, and the necklace, we had to be getting close. “To the grave, remember?”
“We didn’t mean your grave.”
“He’d never hurt me. My grift sense cleared him. . . .”
Now I pulled on the necklace, brushing my fingers over the stones. Soon Dmitri would be out of my life, his gift converted to cash. All I’d have would be a photo of this to remember.
My eyes threatened to water. Maybe I was a softie.
Inner shake. I finished dressing, then quickly assessed my outfit in the mirror. I’d kept my accessories simple—a light silver pashmina and my little silver purse looped over my shoulder—so my necklace would be the focus. I’d lined my eyes, but wore nude lipstick. I’d left my hair free to curl down my back.
Work the con, Vice.
Ha. I kept assuring myself I was acting in the interest of the con. But I feared I was already addicted to him.
My stomach felt fluttery as I carried my bag to the front door. With a wide smile, I opened up. “Hey, big—”
Brett.
I froze.
He looked like hell, his face unshaven with dark circles under his eyes. “It’s so good to see you, Tori.” The nickname dredged up a slew of memories.
Tori, w-will you go to the movies with me? . . . I love you, Tori. . . . Will you marry me, Tori? . . . Please, Tori, she didn’t mean anything to me!
He pointed to the green notice on my door. “They’re gonna evict you?”
Finding my voice, I said, “That doesn’t concern you.”
“Of course it does. Come back home. Please. I’ll do anything.”
Home? We’d been broken up for a year. And Dmitri would arrive any minute! “You’ve got to go. Now.”
“Why?”
“I have a date who’ll be here shortly. This isn’t fair for you to barge in on me like this.”
He frowned. “Then why did you tell me to come over at one?”
“What are you talking about?”
He took his phone out of his jeans pocket and showed me an e-mail—sent from my account two hours ago—that did indeed ask him to come over to talk.
Who the hell had sent it? Anyone in my family could have accessed my account—they all knew !jiepdll!ozqkml14** was my password—but they also knew Dmitri would be here at one.
They’d never let anything interrupt my budding relationship with a jealous, possessive, controlling billionaire—
My eyes widened. But they’d do anything to accelerate it.
Whoever had e-mailed Brett was using him as an unwitting shill—to create a crisis of jealousy for Dmitri.
Too soon in the timeline! Too freaking personal.
Just yesterday, Karin had talked about manufacturing a crisis. Had it been her? “I’m sorry, Brett, but I didn’t e-mail you. Someone must be . . . playing a prank. Or something.”
“A prank?” The pain in his eyes was stark. He’d gotten his hopes up.
I reminded myself I’d probably shown him the same stark look when I’d caught him with another woman.
Brett’s gaze lit on my diamonds, then dropped to my luggage on the floor. “You’ve got an overnight date? Who is this guy?”
“That hasn’t been your business since you cheated on me.”
He swiped a hand down his face. “I fucked up with you. I know how bad. But this can’t be over. We were made for each other.”
“I used to think so.”
“It’s still true. Please forgive me. Please take me back. Every second of the day, I’m trying to come up with something to say to convince you to give me another chance.” His eyes glinted.
I once loved those hazel eyes, had thought I’d wake up to them for the rest of my life. “I can’t come back from what I saw, Brett. I’m just not capable of it.”
“I wish to God I could go back in time and change that night!”
Though I’d spent twelve months shying away from that memory, it welled up in my mind.
Brett and I had thrown a pre-season football party, but my family had called me in for a last-minute assist—drinks with promising investors/marks. I’d closed the tax-evaders early, so I’d hurried home, wending through shit-faced friends to get to the bedroom and change into my jersey. Brett and the tawny-haired bombshell hadn’t heard me open the door. . . .
Now I told him, “When I walked in on you two, it took me the longest time to register what I was seeing.”
“Tori, please don’t.”
They’d been naked in the bed I’d shared with him, frantically kissing, and he’d had his fingers inside her. Getting her ready. She’d been stroking him as his hips bucked to her fist. Unlike me, she had enhanced breasts and legs for miles.
As I’d choked back bile, my mind had been a chaos of jarring thoughts:
He’s about to screw her. How long has this been going on? He and I had sex there hours ago. We talked about getting a puppy after our honeymoon. I just washed those sheets. I spent the entire day cleaning for our football party. He knows I don’t even like football. But I’m supportive. I was supportive. He’s about to do it.