Total pages in book: 88
Estimated words: 83818 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 419(@200wpm)___ 335(@250wpm)___ 279(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 83818 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 419(@200wpm)___ 335(@250wpm)___ 279(@300wpm)
“Mmm?” His face swims in front of me.
“Have you eaten anything?”
I shake my head. “Somewhere between being captured by our enemies and then dragged to the LSD headquarters, questioned, then dragged to this plane and attacked I forget to eat my three square meals.” I shrug. “Oopsie.”
He rolls his eyes and signals to the flight attendant. “Orange juice, two ice cubes. Something sweet. And a chicken sandwich, no mayo.”
I turn my head away when tears prick my eyes. Of course he remembers exactly what I like. It feels like a lifetime ago I was detained for questioning, and he was the one in charge of me… but in reality, it was only a week ago.
The flight attendant hands us our food, and we eat in silence. I watch him discreetly.
I’ll kill the man you love.
I have to look away.
What have I done to give an onlooker like my brother the impression that I love Ollie Romanov? I think back to my captivity with him.
The way we talked for endless hours, and I told him all about my childhood. He talked about his trips to various countries as the international consultant for the Romanov Bratva, and I asked questions, intrigued. Ollie is a quiet man to others, but he opened up to me.
My brother hit me where it hurts. He knows I’m vulnerable when it comes to Ollie Romanov. I wish I wasn’t so easy to read.
My head feels light, and my arm aches as I finish my sandwich and eye a chocolate chip cookie.
Ollie glances at me, his eyes softening. “Is your arm still bothering you?”
“Only when I use it,” I reply, my words slightly slurred. “Which is all the time because it’s… one of my most favorite limbs.” I glance down at the bandage. “You doctored it up damn well though. How’d you get so good at that?”
He shrugs. “I was the Bratva’s medic before Mikhail took over. We all tried out different positions. I wanted to go into medicine when I was a kid.” He takes a long sip of a bottle of soda. I watch his Adam’s apple bob up and down and swallow hard. He lifts the second half of his sandwich and takes a large bite, chews methodically, and swallows. “I study things and aim to become an expert.” He shrugs. “It’s sort of my thing.”
“I’ve noticed.”
Languages, cultures, traditions and locations—he keeps it all in his head as if cataloged. Once he learns something, it’s there to stay.
I wonder if his skill at mastering things translates to people too.
I shove the cookie in my mouth before I say something stupid again.
Ollie leans over, gently reaching for my arm and examining it. “Looks swollen.”
I look down. “I doubt human flesh is made to be slashed and bandaged like that. I’m fine.”
“Renata.” The sober tone of his voice catches my attention. God, I love it when he says my name. The thoughts in my head come to a stop, and my pulse quickens in my veins. “I’m serious,” he continues, his brow furrowed in concern.
I swallow hard. My brother was right. I’m madly in love with this man, and it will kill me… if he doesn’t first.
I wave my good hand dismissively. “Relax, Ollie, I won’t fall apart. I’ve suffered worse.” I lean in closer, whispering loudly. “And I bet when we get back, you’ll kiss it and make it better, won’t you?”
I lean back and giggle when he growls, then hold my hand up to the flight attendant.
“Another shot, please.”
“I think you’ve had enough.” Ollie scowls.
“Not quite yet,” I say with a sickly sweet smile. I push my plate away and stare hard at his cookie.
The flight attendant looks back and forth between us, and Ollie gives him a firm shake of his head. He scurries away before I can put his life at risk again.
“You gonna finish that sandwich?” Ollie asks.
If he thinks he’s going to boss me into eating more food… I glare at him. “No. I could use another cookie though.”
Wordlessly, he leans over me to grab it. That clean, woodsy scent of his tickles my nostrils, and I stifle a groan.
Not fair. Not fair!
I watch as he annihilates my sandwich in two huge bites, then eye the cookie still left on his plate. Cookies are my favorite. Wordlessly, he slowly hands it to me. I nearly clap my hands with glee.
It’s rich and buttery, and I savor every bite.
“You’re like a kid,” he says, but there’s a softness to his voice, something almost protective...
“Mhm. You got a problem with that?” He’s not wrong. Healthy food is all well and good, but give me a cookie, and I’m a happy girl.
He snorts. “I like drunk Renata.”
My heart thumps madly. Maybe he doesn’t despise me.
I grin at him and twist the top off another shot. “Do you? What do you like about her?”