Total pages in book: 93
Estimated words: 90084 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 450(@200wpm)___ 360(@250wpm)___ 300(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 90084 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 450(@200wpm)___ 360(@250wpm)___ 300(@300wpm)
“I’m not sure I feel comfortable with you spying on me.”
“I’ve seen a lot of you already, darling, don’t you worry about a little bit more.” He raises his martini. “Here’s to a long and happy marriage.”
I refuse to drink to that. “You know we’re neighbors now, right? I moved in with him a little while back.”
“And you haven’t stopped by to say hello?”
“I’ve been, uh—” I hesitate, not sure how to explain my situation.
But good old Merrick comes in with an excuse. “You’ve been busy having a honeymoon experience with the gorgeous Russian criminal. Yes, darling, I understand, getting fucked into a pile of quivering blissful jelly is much nicer than having a chat with boring old me.”
“We’re not, I mean, I’m not—” I stammer at him, and we both end up laughing. Because what’s the use pretending?
I could say a lot of things about Valentin, but I can’t deny that the man absolutely wrecks me in all the best ways.
We talk for a little while. One drink turns to two. Merrick seems very fascinated with my day-to-day life, almost in an unhealthy way, and when I point that out, he only shrugs and wobbles in his seat.
“I don’t know many women married to mysterious wealthy Russians.”
“Many? Or any?”
“Just one at the moment, darling, but I’m on the hunt.”
“I’ll introduce you to a few at some point.”
“Don’t tease.”
I laugh and we fall into our normal banter, almost like I’m back behind the bar instead of leaning my elbows on it. I missed this a lot—before Valentin, working at Stove and Smoke was basically as social as I ever got, and I didn’t realize how much I had enjoyed it.
Now it’s obvious though. This place was like a second home. And ever since I married Valentin, I haven’t been able to come back, mostly because he wants to keep me under house arrest.
I’m about to ask for a third wine when I notice Merrick staring at something over my shoulder. His body’s tense and he’s not smiling anymore, and I follow his gaze.
Valentin’s standing near the doorway, staring at me.
“That man can brood,” Merrick whispers, almost like he’s swooning. “Oh my god, he looks so angry. Is it supposed to be sexy?”
“No, you idiot,” I whisper back but I can see what he means.
Valentin looks like a vengeful god of violence and very rough, very satisfying sex.
He storms over to me. Half the people in the room stare at him, and the other half are too afraid to look. I sit up straight and meet my husband’s glare head-on with a very calm, very polite tilt of my chin.
“You do realize my men are losing their fucking minds over this?” he says instead of greeting me. “What were you thinking, malishka?”
“He has a nickname for you?” Merrick says, almost squealing with delight. “And it’s Russian? My god, I might pass out.”
Valentin’s death stare turns to him. “You should go now, Merrick.”
“Right, yes, of course.” He jumps to his feet.
“Coward,” I hiss at him.
“Guilty.” He throws back his martini. “Valentin, lovely seeing you, please do stop by and look at some of my recent pictures.”
“I will. Go now, Merrick.”
“Good luck,” Merrick mutters at me and hurries off.
Valentin keeps glaring at me like he’s going to grab me by the wrist and drag me outside. Instead, I turn to the bartender, and gesture for that third glass. Ashley looks panicked for a second.
“She’s cut off,” Valentin says.
Ashley clears her throat and looks at me. “I’m sorry, Karine, but you’re cut off.”
“You backstabber,” I say, appalled. “Don’t listen to him.”
“Sorry!” Ashley hurries away and helps some other guests at the far end of the bar.
I turn to my husband, beyond frustrated. “Would you stop scaring off my friends?”
“You need to come home with me now.”
“Why?” I cross my arms. I know I’m being a little dramatic, but I can’t help myself. “I like it here.”
“You aren’t safe.”
“Your shadows are lurking right over there. If anything happens, they’ll protect me.” I gesture at the awkward-looking Russian Bratva thugs squeezed into a tiny booth and looking like they’re waiting outside of a principal’s office for discipline.
“You don’t understand.” He leans in close. I smell his aftershave, a woodsy and musky scent. “It’s bad enough that the Brotherhood wants to exterminate everyone I hold dear. But you’re also putting all the good people of this bar in jeopardy.”
“How’s that?”
“Any man that looks at you wrong, I will break his skull. Do you understand that?”
I laugh sharply and put my hands on his shoulders. I try to push him away, but fail. “You’re such a possessive idiot, you know that?”
“You are my wife. You are the Pakhan’s queen. Don’t you see? You can’t just come into bars like this anymore. You are a representative of my Bratva. But most of all, you are mine.”