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)
As my heels click on the pavement, I ask, “Is Polina with you?”
The night might not end as badly as I believed when he answers, “No. She entered the complex with Yev.”
Even with his reply snapping out of his mouth like a drill sergeant, I do a little jig. “Perfect.”
“I’m still not happy about your request, Ms. Lefevre,” he snaps out, freezing my impromptu dance-off mid hip thrust.
“I acknowledge your concern, but it doesn’t alter the facts.” I wait to hear his jaw tic before adding, “We created magic tonight.”
My mouth gapes when the faintest hum of agreement sounds down the line. Saka is not a romantic guy. His ideal date would consist of microwaved pizza and sex with your socks on. He doesn’t understand the word romance, let alone how to utilize it. That’s why I wasn’t surprised at the start of his placement to learn he’s single.
“Say it isn’t so. Are my romantic ways finally rubbing off on you?” My last word comes out with a squeak when a glass bottle rolling out from beneath a dumpster scares the living daylights out of me.
“What was that?” Saka barks out, startling me further.
“Probably an alley cat,” I murmur, my tone hinting that I’m trying to convince myself more than Saka.
My damn heart is close to leaping out of my chest.
This is Karma biting my ass for placing my curiosity above my safety. I didn’t take a shortcut to get me from point A to point B quicker. I was seeking signs of where the handsome specimen who aided me earlier went.
When sirens wailed, he disappeared alongside a hundred or so spectators. Since his flee was after he made sure I didn’t get trampled by the crowd racing to watch Vasily be taught a lesson, it kept him in the forefront of my mind for the past twenty-plus minutes.
I swear to god, he only touched my elbow to yank me away from the stampede, but my body reacted as if his tongue was trailing a path from my belly button to the apex of my thighs. His briefest touch was electric, and the pulsating buzz amplified when he asked me in a foreign accent if I was okay.
I didn’t think a meteor could have interrupted our stare down when our eyes collided and held, so you can picture my shock when the faintest wail of a police siren saw him backpedaling along with the crowd that almost trampled me.
“Are you sure?” Saka checks as the revs of an engine being pushed to its limits bellow down the line.
“Yes.” Like clockwork, a black-and-ginger cat scurries out from behind the industrial bin. Its frantic pace would have you convinced that someone kicked him up the ass for scaring me. “The poor baby looks hungry.”
“Don’t even think about it.” Long, husky breaths space Saka’s reply.
“What?” I sound as innocent as a child with cherub cheeks and pigtails. It is an aura I can pull off until you know me for longer than five minutes. “You love Sookie.”
Saka pffts. “He’s a flea-infested sewer rat.”
“Back then.” Sookie is the last cat I found in an alleyway. He was nothing but a bag of bones housing a million fleas. One of his eyes was also shut tight from all the goop coming out of it. Now, he is feline royalty. “And don’t act like you don’t cuddle him every night. I’ve heard his purrs coming from your room.”
Since he can’t deny me, he announces how many miles he has left to travel before requesting I leave the alleyway. “Open spaces create—”
“Fewer incidences,” I interrupt, my eyes rolling.
My eye roll freezes halfway around when another commotion rattles out of the alleyway. This one is too loud and mannish to belong to a cat.
“Seek shelter now!” Saka demands, his shouted words kick-starting both my feet and heart.
“It could just be some teens fooling around,” I rationalize, confident he is overreacting. “No one knows I’m—”
“Now, Natalya.”
As I move for the closest hum of activity, my feet stomping along with my heart’s thuds, Saka uses a second phone to contact an “associate” at Kronstadt PD.
“Don’t call it in, please,” I beg while entering the back doors of an establishment with strobing lights and loud music. “If they don’t keep quiet, we’ll have to move again. You don’t want that to happen, do you, Saka?” When he remains quiet, I get desperate. “Kronstadt isn’t Paris, but it is starting to feel like home. I have friends here who like me for me instead of my parents’ money. I’m also safe. Listen.” I hold out my phone so he can hear the chatter of people and the enticing thud of the music surrounding me. “I won’t leave until you collect me. I promise. Just don’t call it in.”
“Nat—”
“Please,” I plead, desperate for roots longer than nine months. “I like it here.”