Total pages in book: 126
Estimated words: 118309 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 592(@200wpm)___ 473(@250wpm)___ 394(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 118309 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 592(@200wpm)___ 473(@250wpm)___ 394(@300wpm)
“I wasn’t—”
Before I can get out another word, the paparazzi click on to the cause of the tension hissing between us.
“What did you save his mother from?” a reporter asks after shoving a mini microphone my way.
“Maksim, are you confirming reports that your mother was missing were true?”
As the crowd is shoved out of the way, another reporter asks, “What is Irina’s current prognosis?”
“Did anyone catch her name?” That question isn’t for Maksim or me. It is from one reporter to the dozen surrounding him. “I don’t recall seeing it on the contestant sheet.”
The blonde responsible for the uprising of my attitude tries to subdue the boisterous paparazzi. She informs them that they will be forwarded a statement about today’s charity event and Irina’s condition later this afternoon before ushering them toward the exit.
When they fail to budge, too caught up in the hostility bristling between Maksim and me, beefy guys with security batons move them on the blonde’s behalf. They don’t belt into them like riot police most likely would. Their sneers alone get the reporters’ feet moving.
I wish I could say the same. Maksim is glaring at me as well, but instead of racing for the closest exit, I return his stare. So much pain reflects in his beautiful dark eyes, but it is barely seen behind the confusion clouding them.
He appears as lost as I am.
With the media at a safe distance, the blonde strives to simmer the rage in me by attempting to hand me a smaller version of the check I’m clutching for dear life.
I say attempt because I don’t accept it.
I can’t do anything but stare if I want to unearth the secrets Maksim’s narrowed gaze is displaying.
He doesn’t hate me.
He hates my profession.
What the?
After a beat, the blonde says, “You can’t cash that check. It’s a prop.” When her attempt to ignite a conversation remains one-sided for several long seconds, she asks, “Do you two need a minute?”
“Yes,” I answer at the same time Maksim says, “No.”
When I balk at the dismissiveness in his tone, my blink steals more than my dignity. I also lose the ability to continue reading the truth from his eyes. I’m once again in the dark, and it annoys the living shit out of me.
As Maksim scrubs at his stubble, he shifts on his feet to face the blonde. “Let her keep the check.” Arrogance clogs the air with humidity before he adds, “Then she can use it to cover herself until her shawl arrives.”
His last two words come out with a grunt when I shove the check into his chest before I leave the stage with so much spring in my step, my bouncing bosom mesmerizes a throng of thirsty men.
They offer to purchase me drinks before announcing they’re more than happy for me to prance around without a shawl.
I pretend I’m interested in their offers. I’m not. I am merely doing everything in my power to make Maksim snap, because it may be the only way I’ll unearth the cause of his angst.
“You know you’re playing with fire, right?” Aleena asks when I return to the bar and order a double bourbon on the rocks.
An agreeing hum vibrates my lips.
“All right.” She fills her shot glass with vodka like she’s had a gig as a bartender before, then clinks it against my recently refilled glass. “As long as you are aware, I can both drink and support that.”
With the wink of a woman eager to cause trouble, she downs the generous serving before asking the men circling us what their beverage of choice is.
“Don’t be shy. It’s not my bank balance you’re hurting,” she assures them when they hesitate.
When my eyes shoot to the bartender, he shrugs before he commences prepping the orders he’s being inundated with like his boss is glaring this way to ensure he does the job he’s paid to do.
CHAPTER FOURTEEN
“Zoya…” I stumble across a cabana littered with plastic cups and empty beer cans before wrapping my best friend up in a hug. “Where have you been? You missed the celebration.” I jump up and down like Aleena’s bridesmaids did when Aleena told them to order anything they wanted at the bar after they barged through the hundreds of guests depleting the Ivanovs’ profits by thousands in literally minutes. “You won! You got twenty big ones.” My nose screws up. “Well, more like ten after I borrow a tiny bit to fix that.” I thrust my hand at the bar that was shut down by hotel security a minute after I returned to it. “They didn’t have long, but they almost drank the bar dry. They won’t tell me the final tally, but I can’t leave all that mess to Maksim’s family. Especially because I was acting like a jealous twit.” The crinkles in my nose smooth. “He deserved it, though. He’s being weird.” I brush off my comment as if I didn’t speak it. “Anyway, you won!”