Total pages in book: 35
Estimated words: 33162 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 166(@200wpm)___ 133(@250wpm)___ 111(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 33162 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 166(@200wpm)___ 133(@250wpm)___ 111(@300wpm)
Mom always taught me to be a good girl. To be nice and polite.
Don’t say anything.
Don’t do anything.
At the door, she couldn’t help but look back toward the room. “If you must know how I’m able to keep Roman, it’s because I suck his cock so very well.”
Chloe regretted the words the moment they came out of her mouth. Stepping out of the bathroom, she rushed toward Roman’s side.
“Are you okay?” Roman asked.
“Why are we the … why are people gossiping about us?” she asked.
She didn’t look back as the women left the bathroom. There were a few giggles and she closed her eyes, counting to ten, then to twenty, hoping some sanity would return to her brain.
“What did you do?” he asked.
Wrinkling her nose, she shook her head, not wanting to tell him what she had said in the heat of the moment.
“Chloe?”
She told him. “Look, I don’t like being gossiped about, and it’s unfair because I don’t get it.”
He threw back his head and laughed. “You’re not wrong.” He pulled her in close so that his lips were next to her ear. “You do suck my cock so very well.”
“Roman?”
“It’s clearly not lost to you that everyone here knows everyone else’s business. It’s an ongoing theme, and you’re not like everyone else. I didn’t allow everyone to intrude. You’re a mystery because I made it so.”
Chapter Eight
Roman was late again. He promised Chloe he’d make it home by seven, but business had run on, and it had gotten messy. There were a couple of pimps running street corners, kidnapping women. Their operation was sloppy and Zaitsev wanted it all closed down, and the men made an example of. All of them would be in the hospital, and their lives had been permanently changed. They were never going to cause anyone any trouble again.
It was Roman’s specialty for Zaitsev. When a message needed to be given, he was the man for the job. The clothes had to go, and the mess cleaned up.
Stepping into his apartment, it was close to midnight, and he saw the rose petals at the door. He winced. Roman had no idea Chloe had planned something this lavish. There were candles, some of them still burning. Closing the door, he walked over the petals and followed the lead toward the bedroom.
His woman was curled up on their bed, and he saw a present laid beside her on his side of the bed. She hadn’t stirred. Tiptoeing into the room, he walked up to Chloe’s side. She wore one of his favorite negligees.
“You’re late,” she said, startling him.
“You’re awake.”
“I heard you arrive home.” It was the first time since they’d been married that she called the apartment home.
“I had business. What is all this?” he asked. He had saved the important dates, and their anniversary wasn’t until next month.
Chloe ran a hand over her face and sat up. “It’s nothing.”
“It can’t be nothing. This is important to you,” he said, taking a seat on the bed.
She reached out for the gift. He looked down, a little confused.
“Chloe?”
“Just open it. It’s not anything big or expensive.”
He opened the wrapping and looked at the picture of the two of them and frowned.
“It’s corny. I know our anniversary—when we first met—has come and gone, but I had that picture and I wanted you to have it … maybe for your office. I know you don’t love me, and it’s so stupid now. It was supposed to be ready for our anniversary, but I got the call the other day, and I had them deliver it.” She went to reach for it. “Roman?”
He pulled it out of her reach. “I love it. What’s with all the flowers?” he asked.
“I wanted to do something nice. That’s all.” She pressed her hands into her lap.
The picture was taken at the bar. He couldn’t quite remember why it was taken, but he’d pulled Chloe against him, and it showed her looking up at him with a smile on her lips. He was going to keep the picture.
“It’s lame,” she said.
“No, it’s not.” He got to his feet.
“Roman?”
He didn’t stop to answer her and instead took it straight to his office, putting the picture in a prominent place on his desk.
“You know, only people who love their wives have pictures of them,” Chloe said. “You don’t have to do that.”
Roman turned toward her. “I don’t know love. I don’t understand love. I never have and I don’t feel it. I care about you, Chloe. I want you to be happy.”
“Do all women married within this Bratva get money?” Chloe asked.
“No.”
“They don’t?”
“I’m starting to think I should have gone into that bathroom with you,” he said.
Chloe chuckled. She pressed a hand to her mouth as she stifled a yawn. “I’m tired.”
“Go to bed, I’ll blow out the candles and come join you.” He watched her leave his office, and Roman rounded his desk and took a seat, staring at the picture of his wife.