Total pages in book: 123
Estimated words: 114467 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 572(@200wpm)___ 458(@250wpm)___ 382(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 114467 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 572(@200wpm)___ 458(@250wpm)___ 382(@300wpm)
“What budget do you think I’m working with?” I ask him.
“I have no fucking idea,” he says. “Don’t ask me anything. Just can you please help me?”
“Okay,” I say, putting the pizza on the table in the living room. “But it’s going to cost you.”
“Remember when I got the hottest guys in hockey to take you and Zara to prom?” he says, thinking he’s smart.
“They wouldn’t even hold our hands,” I snap at him. “We had plans to lose our virginity that night.”
He laughs. “You’re lucky they sat next to you.”
“Asshole,” I say to him and then take a bite of pizza. “I’ll be there tomorrow only because I love my job.”
“You’ll be there tomorrow because you know the commission is going to be sweet.”
I shrug. “This is also true.”
“And can you make sure you dress properly?” he finally says. “Nothing too revealing and shit.”
“I always dress properly,” I point out. “I’m going to tell Zara you said that.” My sister is a personal stylist to some of the biggest stars out there. She even started her own company called Zara’s Closet. Most of my clothes come from her, and most are the ones that Evan doesn’t want her to wear.
“Later, squirt,” he says, disconnecting, and I spend the rest of the night watching Netflix.
* * *
The next morning, I’m slipping on my lace thong when my phone rings, and I see it’s Zara.
“Hey,” I say, putting it on speaker while I finish dressing.
“Hey, yourself,” she says, and I know she’s in the car. I grab the white cotton button-down blouse that is tight on the chest and then hugs my waist. “Do you have plans for dinner?”
“Not as of right now,” I tell her, slipping on my gray suede Louboutins. “Why, what’s up?”
“I have to join Evan and one of his teammates, and I don’t want to have to pretend I understand what they are talking about.” I shake my head. We have grown up with hockey in our lives, yet we both hate it. From the time when we were little, we would cry when we were put on the ice. There are pictures of my dad trying to coax us up, and all we did was lie on the ice. When my mother had enough of the tears and tantrums, she would only allow us on the ice as punishment when we did something we shouldn’t have. I can say it really didn’t work because we would just kneel there on the ice, which would get my father trying to tell us how much fun hockey was. It was not. I went to every single hockey game I could, but it was always to socialize more than watch the game. I don’t know icing from offside and neither did Zara before Evan.
Our younger brother Justin, now he is the opposite of us. He lives and breathes for the sport and was just drafted this summer, and Matthew is trying to move heaven and earth to get him to New York, but Edmonton is holding strong.
“I’m already spending the afternoon at the rink,” I tell her, grabbing my light gray jacket.
“Good. I’ll see you there,” she says. “This whole captain’s wife thing is getting a bit out of hand. I swear I call Karrie seven times a day.”
I laugh at her. “You love it.”
“No,” she says. “I love him, and I’ll do what I need to do for him, but—”
“But nothing,” I interrupt. “Fine, I’ll go to dinner, but I’m ordering the most expensive thing on the menu.”
“Deal,” she says. “See you soon.”
I shake my head and slip on the jacket, finally looking at myself in the mirror. “Presentable,” I say with just a twinkle in my eye because the minute I move, you see my full long leg. “This should be fun.”
I hang up and meet the Flanerys to go over the listing that I had, and in one hour, they fell in love with the house that was emailed to me yesterday. I get back to the office and draw up a contract. When my phone beeps, telling me my driver is here to take me to the rink, I wrap up everything and grab my bag. As soon as I sit down, I shoot Matthew a text.
Me: On my way, where do I meet you?
Matthew: I’m in my office. See you soon.
I tuck the phone away and look outside at the leaves slowly changing, not knowing that the leaves aren’t the only thing changing this season.
Chapter Three
Viktor
I watch the clock turn 6:00 a.m., the alarm ringing and my hand coming out to slap it off. I lie in the big king-size bed, looking out the windows all around the room. I’ve been up since 3:30. I tossed and turned most of the night, but I’m used to that. My longest time asleep, according to the Fitbit I wear to bed, is six hours and forty-seven minutes. Another thing recovery gave me was sleep. Instead when I was high I would just snort a couple more lines to stay awake, sleep was never a necessity.