Total pages in book: 112
Estimated words: 107687 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 538(@200wpm)___ 431(@250wpm)___ 359(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 107687 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 538(@200wpm)___ 431(@250wpm)___ 359(@300wpm)
“I don’t like it here. I don’t want to be here. You pulled me from my friends, my life, to follow him, the golden boy! Why? Explain why?”
My parents have, many times, which is why both of them sigh very deeply as they head for another box or two. To save them the argument, I say, “Because my career is more important than you getting slutty with your friends, okay?”
She glares, and it’s terrifying. But I know my mom won’t let her claw my eyes out. Like my sister said, I’m the golden child. My mom loves me most. “The only slut I know is you, thank you very much.” She hurls that at me very fast and very antagonistically.
I shrug. Am I a saint? No. Am I slut? Eh, maybe.
“Takes one to know one,” I throw back at her.
Her eyes are even narrower. “Ugh. The newest Top Gun movie called. They want their mustache back.”
I cover my mustache to hide my hurt. I love my mustache, and I won’t let her win. “Mean Girls called. They need a replacement for Regina. Care to take the role?”
“Kids, please,” Mom says as she walks in with a box. Her Russian isn’t as fluid as ours. Dad made sure we spoke Russian as soon as we could talk, but the only reason Mom learned was because we moved to Russia once Dad retired from the Nashville Assassins. She didn’t like not knowing what was being said. I’m surprised she is speaking it in the States; I fully expected her to just speak English now. With Kat only speaking Russian, though, maybe that’s why. Who knows. I’m ready for them to take Kat and go. She’s been a bitch from the moment this move was in the works.
I mean, I get it. She hates America and hates hockey, but guess what, she’s not an adult, so she’s stuck with our parents. Maybe if she hadn’t been trying to get with most of the Russian mob kingpins’ kids, she could have stayed with our grandparents.
Honestly, though, this move is best for everyone. Mom will be near her family again, my sister won’t marry a mob heir, and I’ll play for the Nashville Assassins. A dream of mine since I was a baby. My dad, well, he’ll do whatever Mom wants. She came with him when he wanted to expose us to a different life, and now he’s down for anything. I’m sure, however, he’s not down for Kat’s attitude, which is why I was smart enough to secure player housing.
Mom is sad I won’t be there since they are moving back in to our family home that Kat and I were brought from the hospital to, but she understands I need to focus. While Elli Adler, the owner of the Assassins—who has always been my biggest fan and promised me a spot as soon as I was able to hold a hockey stick—is behind me a thousand percent, her daughter and the GM, Shelli Adler-Brooks, is not feeling me.
I think her exact words were, “You’re sloppy, messy, and nowhere near our standard.” I won’t take offense that she described me negatively. I don’t think she likes me—ever has, really—but I will prove her wrong. I don’t feel I’ve developed bad habits, but habits can be broken if so, and I will play for the Assassins. Just as my dad did and my uncle, and I will further the Titov family legacy.
I glance over at my dad, who is on his phone, while Kat argues with Mom about how our parents are ruining her life. They’re not. She could have ended up dead with the people she was messing with.
“Dad, my mustache is cool, right?”
“The coolest,” Dad agrees. Then he clears his throat. “Ladies, Jakob and Harper have invited us over to the house. Ally is home with the baby since it’s wedding month.”
I furrow my brows. “Wedding month?”
“Yes, Stella Brooks is getting married, and so is Owen Adler.”
Kat makes a face of disgust and says, in Russian, “To outsiders or within the family?”
Listen, it’s cute and all, how the Assassins team keeps it in the family, all the kids marrying each other. But I think it also tiptoes the line of Stockholm syndrome. They were all stuck together as adolescents, and because of that, they all want each other. It’s weird.
My mom doesn’t agree with us, though. She married her sister’s husband’s brother. Or as he so bluntly puts it, “Knocked her up and it forced me into marriage, and I couldn’t be happier.”
I swear he loves her.
“Stella is marrying a hockey player but an outsider.”
“Surprising,” Kat mutters.
“Owen is marrying Lucy and Benji Paxton’s daughter Angie.”
“The one that gained all that weight, right?” Kat asks, and I glare at her.
“Not everyone is born a walking pole,” I snap at her because, of course, she has a perfect, thin body. I have struggled with my weight, and as a man, that’s embarrassing. We’re meant to have twenty-pack abs and muscles galore, but that’s not the case for me. I have to work out a lot and watch what I eat. Kat can eat anything she sees and doesn’t gain an ounce.