Total pages in book: 93
Estimated words: 88536 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 443(@200wpm)___ 354(@250wpm)___ 295(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 88536 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 443(@200wpm)___ 354(@250wpm)___ 295(@300wpm)
His phone lights up, but he makes no move to touch it.
“I want you to give me your number,” I tell him. He raises a brow. “And in doing so, I’ll pay you.”
“You’ll pay me?” he asks, somewhat amused. “For my number?”
“Yes. Not right now because it’ll be obvious to my friend, but I can transfer the money afterward because I’ll have your number anyway,” I state, smiling.
“Just one issue,” he replies, raising one finger. “Not that I don’t want to help you, but if you turn around right now, you’ll see my wife standing behind you. I suggest you don’t speak, because she has a habit of stabbing people.” I tense.
He stands and holds out his hand, gesturing toward his wife. I sit frozen in place, realizing I’ve probably taken her seat. In my periphery, a delicate hand with red painted nails clasps his hand, and as he pulls her into him, piercing green eyes glare at me.
“This is Anya Ivanov, my wife,” he says. “And I’m River Bentley. Now, let me get my number for you.” He reaches for a napkin.
“N-no, please. It’s fine,” I stammer.
“You said you had a bet with him, didn’t you?” he asks.
“A bet?” Anya asks with a slight Russian accent, her gaze narrowing. When I look at her properly, I realize her red hair is impeccable, slicked back in a tight bun, and she’s clad in a dress with a slit up the side. And she definitely looks like she could stab me. But she also reminds me of someone I’ve met before.
“Yes, I’m so sorry. I wasn’t hitting on your husband. The man I’m dining with made a bet with me.” I clear my throat. “If I got your husband’s number, he would give me a plane.” Her gaze immediately drifts over to Will, even though I hadn’t told her which man. Fuck, am I going to get us both killed? Her gaze narrows and her high heels click-clack as she approaches Will. He just sits there and waves.
“You,” she says, looking over her shoulder at me. “Come with me.” She indicates with her finger and turns back to Will’s table. If she’s not going to slap the smug expression off his face, then I fucking will.
That’s if she doesn’t murder us first.
I’m not intimidated by too many people, but I would avoid this woman at all costs.
In a few short steps she reaches Will. I come up behind her and look down at him apologetically, that is until she speaks.
“You set this up, now give the fucking woman her plane,” she demands, and Will adjusts his glass on the table with a shit-eating grin.
Realization dawns on me then.
He knows her.
That means…
I look over my shoulder to find River smiling as he watches his wife. He’s sitting back down, as if getting comfortable, as he takes in the show.
“Come on, Anya. It’s a little funny. I had to see her try, even though I knew he wouldn’t give it to her.”
“I’ll chop off your fucking cock and feed it to my dogs if you pull a stunt like this again,” she replies, her Russian accent thickening with her anger.
“Your dogs love me.”
What the fuck?
“You know each other?” I ask, my own irritation spiking. At him, as usual.
“Yes. River and I go way back, and as you can see, Anya is quite fond of me too. Unfortunately for you, it looks like you lost the bet, milady,” Will says in mock apology. “My hotel room or yours?”
I snap. I’m so fed up with this man and his games.
“Fuck you.” I reach for my glass of water and throw it at him, glass and all. He moves out of the way and it misses him. His smirk never leaves his face.
“You’re more well-tempered than me, I would’ve gone for a knife,” Anya interjects, and I’m reminded that I’m in a restaurant. People are staring now, but River and Anya don’t seem particularly bothered.
Anya reaches into her pocket, pulls out a card, and hands it to me.
“This is my husband’s number.” I stare at the card. Then she turns back to Will. “Now, give her the fucking plane,” she orders, then returns to her husband.
I grab my purse from the table and walk away. Fuck this guy and his games. I pass River and Anya, who are watching us, on my way out. I don’t make eye contact, just in case she decides it’s time to kill me after all.
“Alina,” Will calls out after me, but I ignore him as I step out into the crowded entranceway where people are lining up for the restaurant. I don’t know where exactly I am or where I’m going, but it doesn’t matter, as long as I’m storming away from that asshole.
My phone starts ringing, and I look down to his sister’s name on the screen. I’m fucking furious, and I know that answering isn’t a good idea. But I’m so fucking mad at this asshole.