Total pages in book: 113
Estimated words: 106159 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 531(@200wpm)___ 425(@250wpm)___ 354(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 106159 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 531(@200wpm)___ 425(@250wpm)___ 354(@300wpm)
“Already?” When I nod, she takes a moment to ponder. She’s usually as sharp as an axe, but more than her emotions have been askew this week. Her mind is as scrambled as mine, so she seeks help from the last person she should. “Should I wait until I have them all or give them to Yev in dribs and drabs?”
“Do you wait for the entire collection of designer babies to be finalized before you start showcasing the latest piece? Or do you jump the gun before everyone else?”
She stares at me like I grew a second head. “You jump the gun. Fashion waits for no one.”
“Exactly!” My shout bounces around the empty boutique. “So why don’t we go grab them before Tyler loses them?”
She stuns me by immediately agreeing to my suggestion.
Not keen to give her an out, I grab my purse from the breakroom, then join Polina at the front door of the boutique. Her eagerness makes me hopeful she’s still fighting for a position on the right team, but just in case, I say, “Can I ask one tiny little favor?” I don’t give her the chance to deny my request. “Will you hold off telling Vasily what you’re doing to ease Yev’s guilt until after you’ve done it?”
Her shoulders sag. “I’m collecting beer caps for a friend. I’m not sleeping with him.”
Dishonesty is the highest of her tones, so I murmur, “So you told Vas about that moment of weakness when you kissed Yev before you attempted to give him a handy over his trousers?”
She forces me to become a nose breather by clamping her hand over my mouth before ensuring we’re alone.
Once she’s sure we are, she drops her hand and says, “I’m not that stupid.”
“Because you know Vas would overreact?” I talk through the wheezy screams of my lungs as they struggle to refill with air. When Polina faintly nods, I add, “Then please take my advice and leave this off the table for now. Once Vas realizes you’re not a hussy who throws her pussy at every deliriously delicious half-Mexican in the vicinity, he might warm to the idea of you two being friends.” I hate myself for my next comment, but we all know forcing our downfalls onto others is easier than admitting we have any. “We both know you could use more of them.”
Of course, she only hears the part of my reply that involves her boy toy. “Yev’s heritage isn’t known.”
“Um… yeah, it is. You’ve felt his dick, much less drooled about its outline when he showed up here in fitted gray sweatpants. That imprint was the reason you locked me in the storage room before taking his measurements with your tongue.”
“We were due for stocktaking,” she lies with a giggle. “And you shouldn’t have been looking. You were a taken woman back then.”
I gag. Polina’s idea of a taken woman is having dinner with a member of the opposite sex. She is so straitlaced, if I hadn’t seen Yev taking her hard and fast against the wall of the boutique, I would have accused her of being a virgin. “Have you ever seen a ring on this finger?”
She shakes her head when I wiggle my empty hand in front of her face, freeing me from explaining the sudden gauntness of my cheeks. “No.”
“Exactly. I can look all I want.” When I recall that Matvei’s threat only pertained to men, I lean close to Polina’s side and murmur, “I can probably touch now too.” Red-hot heat tracks through my veins when a way to force Matvei out of hiding pops into my head, though I shut it down before giving it any true thought. “But please remind me of the consequences of that before I do something I’ll later regret.”
“Single forever. I get it.”
Her reply frustrates me more than I care to admit, but I will never tell her that.
I’d rather everyone believe I’m a harlot if it saves me from getting hurt.
11
NATALYA
Tyler and I trade a glance the instant I enter Tappers. His inky black hair is mussed and sexed up, his shirt so fitted the cuffs of the sleeves dig into his biceps, and the snug fit of his jeans has several patrons' heads in a tizzy, Jax’s included.
“I could turn him, I swear. I just need you to stop filling his head with false hope.” He leans in to kiss my cheek that’s sitting higher thanks to his witty comment.
He inches back to issue me a grateful sigh when I admit, “I gave him your number as asked. Somehow he learned it wasn’t mine.” Guilt fills his face, which forces me to ask, “How many texts did you exchange before you sent him a dick pic?”
“Please.” He slaps my arm. “I’m classy. I don’t send dick pics. I only receive them.”