Total pages in book: 40
Estimated words: 38381 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 192(@200wpm)___ 154(@250wpm)___ 128(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 38381 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 192(@200wpm)___ 154(@250wpm)___ 128(@300wpm)
I take out my phone and dial.
“Finally. Thought you’d forgotten me, hot stuff.”
I roll my eyes. Seriously, hot stuff? Are we back in the disco era? “How could I forget you? I’ve just been busy setting up my new business.”
“Oh, yeah, you’re like a clothing designer, right?”
I roll my eyes. God, I really don’t like this guy. “Web designer.”
“Okay, whatever. We’re having a party tonight. Do you want to come over?”
“You guys have a party every night.” I let out a fake laugh.
“That’s the life. Are you comin’ or what?”
“Not sure.”
“Bring some girls with you. This club could use some new talent.”
“Bye, Weasel.” I click my phone off before I end up telling him to go fuck himself. He’s annoyed me for a while now, but one taste of Ghost and I’m ready to decapitate Weasel. I don’t want to be around him at all now. How stupid am I?
I think it might be time to call in the bigger markers. It’s not like I will need them. After I take care of the club and my father, I’m out of the business.
“Hey, Lenny.”
I look up to see Mrs. Miller’s son, Bart, standing by the table. He’s a sweet kid. I think she said that he’s just started high school. He’s a tall, lanky kid with wavy blond hair and bright blue eyes. I imagine the kid is a heartbreaker among teenage girls.
“Thanks, Bart.”
“Mom sent you one of Dad’s banana nut and pistachio muffins. She thinks you’ll love it.”
“Give her my thanks.”
He nods and walks away. I look at my phone again, blowing out a breath. I should have just done this a year ago and been done with it. Ivan would have my back. I think Mikhail would, too. Viktor is another story. Most of the time, it feels like he tolerates me. None of them like my father, so perhaps that’s the reason. I understand why. Hell, I despise him more than anyone.
I dial my phone, knowing I need a meeting with Ivan. I ignore the butterflies in my stomach as I do it. Ivan may support me, but he sure as hell will try to talk me out of it, too. It rings a couple of times and I smirk. One advantage of having the head of the Bratva’s personal cell is that you know if he ignores your calls. To date, Ivan never has…
I jerk in surprise as the chair in front of me is pulled out and a mountain of delicious man sits down. Ghost.
“This is a surprise, my little Lennox.”
I ignore the effect the man across my table is already having on me. I do maintain eye contact with him but continue talking to Ivan. Part of it is because I want to ignore Ghost for a bit. I’m not sure what to say to him yet. Another reason—and perhaps the most important—is that one doesn’t simply hang up on Ivan Levkin. Well, they don’t do that and live.
“You know me, I’m like a bad penny. I always turn up somewhere,” I murmur. I’m rewarded with Ivan’s laughter.
“You are much more delightful than you know. What can I do for you, my little doll?”
I smirk. Ivan calls me his deadly doll. Brags that to look at me, no one would know that I’m lethal with one taste. Most of the time, I think he sees me better than anyone in the world. Even my brother mostly ignored the dark side of me. Admittedly, I kept it hidden from his view, but it was still there.
“I was hoping you’d be willing to meet with me. I have a favor to ask.”
“You? Asking for favors? This would be a first.”
“I’m thinking of retiring. I have a few loose ends that I need to wrap up for Teddy first.”
“That is dangerous, Lennox.”
“That is life. Can we meet?”
“I assume you are still in Phoenix?”
My eyebrow shoots up in response. “I wasn’t aware you knew.”
“Even you aren’t as smooth as you think you are,” he gloats. “I’m in Kazan at the moment, dealing with bullshit. I’ll be back in two weeks.”
“Two?”
“You could always speak with Viktor. He’s in town.”
“I’d rather have a root canal,” I mutter, making him laugh.
“I’ll text you a time and day when I return,” he says when he finally gets control of his humor.
“I’ll be waiting. Just don’t leave me waiting too long.”
“Wouldn’t dream of it,” he croons and cuts the call.
I break eye contact with Ghost and put my phone up with a heavy sigh. One can’t say dealing with Ivan Levkin is boring.
“Retiring?”
“Did you need something?” I ask him, ignoring his question entirely.
“You’re avoiding the club.”
“I’m not. I just have no reason to be there.”
“You were a regular before we did our thing.”
“Is there a point to this conversation, Ghost?”
“Against my better judgment, I want another taste of you.”