Total pages in book: 80
Estimated words: 79781 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 399(@200wpm)___ 319(@250wpm)___ 266(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 79781 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 399(@200wpm)___ 319(@250wpm)___ 266(@300wpm)
Tate Landrey actually is football royalty.
“Looks like he’s having the time of his life, doesn’t he?” Yegor says.
I shake my head. “Something about him looks sad.”
He snorts. “Sad? He’s probably fucking models and partying until sunrise each morning.”
Yegor is so fucking wrong.
Tate Landrey might be fucking models and partying, but he’s clearly not happy.
Before my mother died, she told me all the time that I had a gift. In Russian, she’d say, “Moy sostradatel'nyy mal'chik.”
My compassionate boy.
I know the look that I see in Tate Landrey’s eyes.
Even in these grainy photos of him on the yacht. I’ve seen how people lose themselves when their lives are bottoming out, empty, and they’re in free-fall… and he looks completely lost.
I don’t think my mother was right.
I’m not compassionate, I just see reality for what it is.
“Fine,” I tell Yegor. “I’ll watch over him. But come to me again with another request, and I will break both of your hands in your sleep.”
It’s four nights later before I get another shred of news about the Landrey boy.
Yegor Petrov
He arrives tonight.
Roman
Need more info. When? Where?
That’s all I was told.
Address of his apartment. Now.
He will be in a dorm on campus. Fucking relax.
I squeeze my phone in my hand.
The heavy thud of music reverberates across the first floor of Onyx House.
Tonight is the first party of the fall semester, and I plan on rewarding my cock with something beautiful.
I’m hungry.
Desperate, even.
My cock has a reputation of its own, and women are often very curious to see if the rumors are true about my size.
I step into the crowd as I descend the staircase into the dimly lit hallway. The kitchen countertop is loaded with bottles of alcohol and students surrounding it like vultures. Purple and red strobing lights pulse across the two main, large rooms at the front of the first floor.
People are dancing.
Shouting over the music.
Leaning up against the wood-paneled walls to make eyes at each other or stick their tongues down each other’s throats.
I notice a couple of guys lighting cigars by an open window, and one girl is dancing on a table wearing a sheer black bra that leaves zero to the imagination.
You’d think it was a depraved, sin-soaked place like any other fraternity, but it’s not.
Every corner of this household is safe, because I am in it.
After the ugly shit that went down last year with some of my Onyx Society brothers, we turned this place into a fucking fortress.
The house is old, but the locks are all newly installed and can’t be breached with standard lockpicking tools. We installed multiple cameras around the perimeter months ago. And between me, Hunter, Niko, Torin, and Sevan nearby at Daggers House, this place may as well be as guarded as my father’s is.
The music thrums through my body and the smell of sweet liquor fills the air.
I turn to enter the front room, and a sudden slam hits the side of my body.
I brace against a redheaded girl who is now smushed up against my arm, gripping me so she doesn’t fall.
“Holy shit, that’s a lot of tattoos,” she says, slurring some of the words as she gawks at me. “You’re tall.”
She’s a freshman, I think.
Not ready for whatever amount of liquor she’s had tonight, clearly.
She squeezes my bicep tight, running her fingertips over the black lines of ink on my skin, her eyes dancing up toward my eyes, then my lips.
Very cute, but I don’t make a habit of putting my cock inside people who are blackout drunk.
“You need water,” I tell her.
“Dude,” she whispers. “Do you have an accent? That’s like, fucking hot.”
My Russian accent isn’t strong, but other people hear traces of it sometimes.
I lift an eyebrow, leaning close to her ear. “Vypeyte vody,” I tell her, and her eyelids drop as she grins. Speaking Russian seems to catch her attention.
“What’s that mean?” she asks.
“It means I need you to drink some water,” I tell her, saying the last three words slowly.
She pouts a little, clearly wishing that I had been saying something closer to let’s go fuck.
I guide her through the party, taking her toward the kitchen.
I find my friend Oliver tucked behind the long kitchen counter, mixing up one of the cocktails he’s been into making lately.
I mouth the word “water” to him and introduce him to the redhead. He gives me a salute, and I know she’ll be safe with him.
I pour a short glass of Cognac.
The front room of the house is even more crowded when I return, and I slide out my phone, tapping out a message with one hand.
Roman
Update on Tate Landrey?
Yegor Petrov
He’ll be on campus soon.
More info. Now.
You’ll have it when I have it.
I look up and see a glimpse of blond, though, and I realize I don’t need any further info.
Client located.
Tate Landrey is here.