Total pages in book: 159
Estimated words: 151304 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 757(@200wpm)___ 605(@250wpm)___ 504(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 151304 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 757(@200wpm)___ 605(@250wpm)___ 504(@300wpm)
Finally, Philippe walked over to my car, and just when I thought we were in the clear, Vik strode toward us and started talking. “I’ll be by later to pick up the shit I left at your place last night, kiska.” My stare was blank and remained that way when he went on, glaring at Philippe. “You could gather it up before I get there. You might wanna check the bathroom, where I showered.” His gaze darkened. “Or your bed, where I slept.”
My face dipped. I should have known he’d go there, especially with the man standing at the passenger side of my car. Each word was designed to be a slap to Philippe’s face. And from the way Philippe’s eyes narrowed, I could see they might have met their mark.
Score one point to Vik.
“I tend to leave stuff on the nightstand.” Vik’s voice turned lethal. He looked the other man up and down, insinuating, “You know. Easy to reach.”
Wow. Just wow.
“I thought you two weren’t together anymore?” queried Philippe, looking between us with clear confusion.
“We aren’t,” I said, not very convincingly.
And at the very same time, Vik smirked. “When has that ever stopped us? Don’t be so naïve, buddy.”
I should have been mad.
Why wasn’t I?
Maybe because jealousy on Vik felt like the highest of compliments.
A silence followed, and the longer it went on, the space around us changed, grew thicker, sucking the positive right out of the atmosphere. But I refused to let it show.
Philippe’s eyes fell to me, and a forced smile stretched my lips. “Shall we?”
A moment’s hesitation, then, “Of course. We have catching up to do.” I spared a glance at Vik. “I want to hear everything.”
Philippe didn’t. “Then you shall.”
“How refreshing,” I said, then turned my head to look the man with the bruised face and busted eyebrow dead in the eye as I unlocked my car and opened the door. “A man without secrets.”
Partway into the trivial conversation that lunch usually offered, we lapsed into a short silence.
It was nice. Comfortable. And that was where it ended.
Philippe was my friend.
I never put too much stock in my tumultuous relationship with him. Not until he broke through the silence and queried gently, “I never stood a chance, did I?”
My eyes lowered, and I picked at my food, not at all hungry anymore.
Because he was right. He never stood a chance.
No one did.
Not when in competition with Vik.
19
Nastasia
“On your left, babe,” Chessie uttered, and I blinked back into focus from wherever my mind had taken me a moment ago.
“Sorry,” I muttered before pasting on a wide smile and morphing back into the lace-teddy-wearing vixen I was. When I approached a man in his thirties with fuck-me eyes and a tailored shirt, I knew he had money to spend, and I called over the music, “What can I get you, handsome?”
It was almost eleven, and Bleeding Hearts was at capacity. With a long line outside, I knew it would be a busy night, and after witnessing the struggle of the last year where Sasha had been only months away from losing this place, I would never take our success for granted and complain about being ran off my feet.
Tonight, I took orders with a lusty smile, feeling somewhat lighter than I had been yesterday.
Moving around Anika, I reached over Chessie to get my hands on the bottle of Hibiki Whiskey. I poured carefully over the sphere of ice, making sure not to spill a single drop, because this shit was expensive.
When I handed it to tailored-shirt guy, he placed the hundred in my hand, looked me in the eye, and said, “Keep the change.”
Aww. A nine-dollar tip.
What a guy.
My face remained passive as I fought the eye roll trying to make itself known. The man looked uncertain a second, and when my lips tipped up lightly, he looked relieved. I leaned over the bar, gripped his shirt, pulled him close, and pressed a long kiss to his cheek.
I pulled away, and his lusty eyes told me I’d done my job right. When I turned my back to him and began to sashay away, I heard him call out desperately, “What’s your name?” and I smirked.
And that was how it was done.
No doubt he’d spend a cool thou’ trying to get me to talk to him over the course of the night.
It was a business transaction that suited me well. The more money they spent, the drunker they got. The drunker they got, the better the tips would be. Of course, Vik would attend to the inebriated men, approaching and doing the obligatory thing by telling them he thought they had enough, and it was time to move on. They wouldn’t, but the security footage would show this was done and done often. In short, it covered our asses from disgruntled patrons who wanted their money back or claimed we were negligent in any way.