Total pages in book: 88
Estimated words: 83818 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 419(@200wpm)___ 335(@250wpm)___ 279(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 83818 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 419(@200wpm)___ 335(@250wpm)___ 279(@300wpm)
My God, he's scared of everything. We're in his family's house, for God's sake.
"Who is it?" he snaps.
I don’t recognize the Russian name.
Ollie curses. "I told you not until after the wedding," he says. “Take it back.”
Take what back?
I hear a little squeak and a bark. I stare, my mouth agape. Was that…? No.
What?
Ollie spins around and looks at me, pointing an irate finger in my direction. "I am opening this door. Pull that fucking blanket up over you."
I look down at myself on instinct. I forgot I’m naked.
“Jesus. Calm the hell down, dude.” He glares at me, and my butt clenches. Still, I want to see what's on the other side of the door, so I don't give him shit and instead, do exactly what he tells me.
He opens the door, and all of a sudden, a little fluffy white ball comes running into the room and leaps onto the bed. "Off the bed!" he snaps in a growl. But it's too late. I have a wriggling, adorable little ball of fluff licking my face and wagging his tail so hard his entire body is shaking. "Oh my God, you got me a puppy?"
He stands at the foot of the bed, watching us with that brooding scowl of his. “You like him?” There’s something softer behind the question, something he’s not ready to show.
I can’t stop laughing as I try—and fail—to dodge the puppy’s barrage of kisses. His wriggling joy reminds me of something soft and pure I didn’t know I still had in me.
I feel like I'm going to cry. "Like him? He’s perfect. Oh my God, he’s awesome." He remembered that I wasn’t allowed to have a dog when I was little. I always wanted one. My throat feels tight. Maybe Ollie doesn’t hate me, but even if he does… this sweet little angel won’t. I bury my face in his tiny, wriggling body.
“He can’t stay in the bed, and he has to be trained in a dog obedience school,” he rumbles. “And if he has accidents—”
He rises up on his hind legs and licks Ollie’s hand. He pauses, mid-rant and frowns.
"He wasn't supposed to come now," he says, glaring at the door. The big guard looks sheepish and shrugs. "I wanted him to be a wedding present.” He looks up at the guard, then shakes his head. “Jesus. Get the hell out of here," he snaps, putting himself between me and the guard so he doesn't see my bare shoulder.
"Do you want me to take the puppy away until later, sir?”
"Yes," he snaps at the same time I yell, "No! Take the puppy? What are you gonna do with him?" I snatch him to my chest, and I swear he almost purrs like a cat. I can't help it. I start talking in a little baby voice. "He knows his mama. Don't you, sweetie? The sweetest thing I ever saw. I love you." And he licks at my face as Ollie curses in Russian.
"Leave him for now and get the fuck out of here," he snaps. The door slams shut behind him.
Ha! Score.
"I can't believe you got me a puppy," I say to him. "I thought you hated me."
He blows out a breath and shakes his head, his eyes flickering with something unreadable. "I never hated you. Not once. I was pissed at you when I thought you betrayed us, but now… I'm not so sure about that." He looks away as if he said more than he intended to. There’s a weight in his voice, as if those words have been waiting a long time to be spoken.
"I am not kidding, Renata. I don’t like dogs. I got it for you so he could protect you.” He rolls his eyes. “After he’s trained and grows up. I got him as a puppy so we could train him right away. But listen to me. The dog’s not sleeping in our bed," he says, trying to sound firm, but there’s a slight crack in his voice. "You can bond with him or whatever, just not here. Got it?"
"Where are you going to put him?" I say in a little voice. "He’s just a wittle baby."
"He’s not a baby. He’s a dog. A cur. An animal," he says. "Jesus, this was a fucking bad idea."
"Don't you want me to like you? We're going to be married, after all. It wouldn’t hurt if we didn’t feel like strangers forever. It might be nice if I don't short-sheet the bed or try to stab you in your sleep." I shrug innocently, then look away from him, realizing those threats are on wildly different planets. One suitable for a summer camp, and the other suitable for women like me.
But I’m not the one who kills people. That's his job.
I think briefly of Carlos and swallow hard.