Total pages in book: 148
Estimated words: 147734 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 739(@200wpm)___ 591(@250wpm)___ 492(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 147734 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 739(@200wpm)___ 591(@250wpm)___ 492(@300wpm)
I’m nauseated.
“Good one. I see you developed a sense of humor.” His laughter disappears. “But I mean it. It’s better if you do what I tell you while I’m asking amicably.”
“And I mean it. You’d better leave now before I have my men fill your torso with holes.”
“Do it yourself, you coward.” He grins and winks.
Why the hell is he winking?
I open my mouth to say something, but Danika is a short distance away. Yulian notices her, too, because he stands up and starts to walk past me but then stops and places a hand on my shoulder.
His palm is big and heavy and as unsettling as his overwhelming scent. The mixture of cedar, lemon, and a hint of musk clogs my nostrils until he’s all I can breathe.
“You have until the end of the evening before I take matters into my own hands.” He leans down so his voice is closer, dropping into a husky whisper. “Remember what I said before. One way or another, I always get what I want, Mishka.”
8
YULIAN
So here’s the thing.
I truly, irrevocably, and without a shadow of a doubt always get what I want.
Always.
It doesn’t matter what the circumstances dictate, what methods I use, or how far I need to go. If I decide it’s happening, my fucked-up brain will come up with the necessary shitstorm to ensure the thing I want will take place.
You know, because I’m persistent.
And annoying.
A general eyesore, if you will.
Most importantly, I will take the blood I’m fucking owed even if it’s the last thing I do.
That’s how I find myself standing by the floor-to-ceiling window in a hotel room in downtown Manhattan, staring at the city that never sleeps.
I’ve never liked New York and it’s not due to an idiotic snobbishness about being from Chicago—though my city is superior, just saying.
It’s because the couple times I’ve been here, I ended up with a goddamn tragedy, blood on my hands, and a hole in my chest.
Literally and figuratively.
I ended up with a curse.
A weakness.
A pit in the fabric of my soul.
This time will be different.
Yes, I still returned and walked into that restaurant I had no business being in and made eye contact I shouldn’t have.
Touched.
Breathed.
Felt.
I take a deep drag of my cigarette and release a cloud against the window, briefly closing my eyes, chasing the fucking burn in my chest, one not even the rush of nicotine can extinguish.
No, so actually, I have a plan this time. Very out of character, I know. But really, my brain is running in overdrive; I could give Cy a run for his money.
Just kidding, but seriously, I have an amazing plan that will definitely work.
It has to.
I’ve lost so much since I met that calamity Vaughn, while he’s just thriving, looking so put together and flaunting a stunning girl on his arm.
But the thing is, I believe in karma. So he has to feel the pain I did and still do.
He owes me his life, and I’ll slurp it the fuck out and pull him down into the mud I’ve been floundering in since he abandoned me and left me to die in that cave.
A beep echoes in the room.
A small smile grazes my lips, but I don’t face the door.
I know exactly who it is without having to turn around.
It’s my guards, who’ve opened the door, and I can hear the cautious steps before it shuts again with a soft click.
Instantly, the delicate smell of floral perfume permeates the air, clashing with the stench of nicotine.
It does nothing for me.
I mean, it does, usually. I like worshiping girls’ bodies whenever possible, but I wouldn’t say I’m particularly dying to fuck this one.
I know, me not being excited about sex? Kind of blasphemous, considering the highlight of my day is dicking someone to the mattress so hard, they see angels.
Or demons.
But, remember, I have a plan this time.
“Hey…” Her soft voice fills the space, sounding a bit on edge.
Hmm. Can’t have her changing her mind after I finally lured her here.
With a smile, I face the girl Vaughn had on his arm tonight. She’s even wearing the same golden strapless dress, her makeup touched up from earlier, her hair redone in a ponytail, two strands framing her face like a curtain.
Danika is Vaughn’s long-term girlfriend—the girl he liked and wanted to save his virginity for.
The girl I saw him kissing the day I lost everything.
It’s only poetic justice that she serves as the catalyst to the decimation of his life, no?
I’m nothing but the most vengeful bastard around.
“Wow, you look gorgeous,” I say, lowering my voice to a flirtatious tone as I kill the cigarette in the ashtray and walk toward her.
She blushes, fidgeting with her glittery black purse that she’s holding with both hands. “Thanks, you…look amazing yourself.”
No need to state the obvious now.