Total pages in book: 116
Estimated words: 108721 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 544(@200wpm)___ 435(@250wpm)___ 362(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 108721 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 544(@200wpm)___ 435(@250wpm)___ 362(@300wpm)
I throw back the glass, set it on the counter, and head to the bar to get another one. “What do you want, Tanya, and let me preface this entire conversation with the fact that I’m not in the mood for your shit. Especially with the knowledge that you fucked up the deal I went all the way to London to make.”
She frowns. “So you didn't sell your little friend then? Pity. I guess the maid I interviewed won't be needed after all.”
I don't answer because she's not talking to me; she's posturing. “Again, what do you fucking want?”
Standing up straight, she shifts the empty glass on the counter with a clink. “You will not speak to me that way. “
I meet her eyes over my fresh lowball glass. “Is that an order from the aunt, my adopted mother, or the woman who took my virginity?”
She snarls her lips at me. “Shut up. I'm telling you as the woman who will make your life hell if you don't treat her with the respect she deserves.”
Exhaustion washes over me in a wave, and I can barely remain standing upright. It has to be jet lag. Definitely not the lack of sleep. Or the alcohol diluting my blood. “Hate to spoil it for you, but my life is already hell, and there's nothing you can do to make it worse at this point.”
“Don't be pitiful, Sebastian. It's not very attractive, and I know you can do better. Let me know when you want to speak to me civilly.”
She sashays out of the kitchen leaving me with nothing but the click of her high heels on the floor. What-the-fuck-ever. I fill my glass to the rim with bourbon and take a massive gulp, letting it fill my belly with warmth. Once I’ve drunk close to half of it, I finally get up the strength to meander up to my room.
I’m so beyond done with this day. I want a hot shower and to fall face-first into my bed. I’ve just walked into my bedroom when my phone vibrates. I swear to fucking God, if it’s any one of my dickhead friends, I’m going to murder them.
Lucky for them, they’ll live to see another day since it’s only my head security guy, Rambo. He doesn’t text me often, so I take it seriously when he does.
Rambo: Someone is lingering outside the gate entrance.
With a sigh, I turn on my heels and head back downstairs.
It’s never a good thing when someone lingers outside your gate. People don’t do that…well, except for Drew. And that’s just because he doesn’t know when enough is enough. I jog down the stairs, counting the steps to distract myself, and then head out the front to go down the drive. As I get closer to the gate, my steps slow, and I slip on the invisible mask I've perfected from attending boring party after boring party.
The mask I wear as the older wives grope my ass, the mask I wear when I do anything I don't want to do. I approach with my hands deep in my pocket, even if I want to have my knife clutched there. Better not escalate this unnecessarily...not yet.
I’m partially baffled and partially pissed to find Yanov standing on the other side of the gate, peering toward the house with a maniacal grin on his face. His smile widens as soon as he spots me. “Oh, good, you do live here, Pup. Glad to know my information was correct.”
I signal to the security guards, who are inching closer to the gate. They stop immediately, watching while I finish walking down to the gate, stopping only with a few feet between me and the metal.
“Didn’t like how things ended the first time so you decided to show up here for a personal viewing?”
“Just because you got her to give you a blow job doesn’t mean you own her. I’ve got her to do lots of things, things she doesn’t even know she’s done.”
My stomach twists into a tight knot, and I really, want to fucking reach through the gate and strangle the life out of him.
“Doesn’t really matter when she’s mine, now does it?”
He shrugs. “You mean, for now.”
I scan him quickly, looking for any weapons he might have. I catch a glimpse of silver metal. He definitely has a gun tucked into his pants, hiding under his trench coat.
“No, I mean until I choose to release her, and when and if that time comes, I can promise you I won’t be releasing her to you,” I tell him, then gesture to the security guards. “This man is not allowed on the property. I don't care what he tells you. He doesn't get past the gate. If he does, whoever allowed it will pay in blood.”
The guards nod, eyeing me, no doubt picking up on the growing tension between Yanov and me.