Total pages in book: 87
Estimated words: 86242 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 431(@200wpm)___ 345(@250wpm)___ 287(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 86242 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 431(@200wpm)___ 345(@250wpm)___ 287(@300wpm)
So I sit on the bed, thumbing through it. My eyes go wide. My heart beats faster.
Well, damn.
Chapter 11
RUTHIE
I don’t think I’ve ever been this turned on in my entire life.
Not once. Not even close.
I’ve never even thought about getting spanked by a guy, not seriously. But with Vadka? The way he looked at me. The authority in his voice. The rough slap of his palm against my skin? It sent me straight into overdrive. I’m soaked. Drenched. So fucking wet, I’m two seconds away from crawling into that bed, yanking off these clothes, and rubbing one out just to take the edge off.
And the worst part? He knew. That smug bastard knew exactly what he was doing to me. Every time he gets bossy. Every time I push back. Every time he calls me “little brat,” a thrill zips through me like a live wire. My whole body hums with it. I shiver just thinking about it.
I want him. Desperately.
Would it be so terrible if it was just casual? Just… comfort. Skin against skin. Who could blame us? We’ve both been through so much.
What the fuck am I even thinking?
Oh my god.
But here I am, in his house. In his space. More turned on than I’ve ever been with any man who’s ever touched me. And I’ve never—never—had sex with someone I actually cared about. Not once. I don’t even know what that feels like.
And I want to.
God, I want to.
But I have to be here for Luka. I have to be his auntie. His anchor. I can’t blur the lines and become his daddy’s girlfriend.
…Right?
I shake my head, forcing the fantasy away. I check my messages. One from Zoya.
Zoya
Are you in the house? I heard there was drama at the restaurant.
So that’s what we’re calling it now? Drama? Oh, I’m definitely going to give him shit for that.
I’m fine. He’s getting dressed, so I’m gonna sneak in and delete the message from her phone.
Zoya
Good. He hasn’t seen it yet?
I don’t think so…?
Do I really know? No. Fuck it.
I have to plot a way to get into his room. He had her phone—in his hand, in his pockets—and I know exactly what has to happen next. It's essential that I get that phone because if he sees that stupid fucking text I sent…
God. But why am I in such denial? Would it really be the end of the world if he saw it? If anything, the way he touched me in that room just now made me wonder… Maybe it’s not just me. Maybe I’m not the only one feeling this. Maybe he feels it too. Does he?
But what if he does want me? What if something starts—anything, even just a moment—and then… what if he realizes he doesn’t? I’m not Mariah. I never was, and I never will be.
I make my way to the living room. Every corner of the space holds a memory of my sister—echoes of her life still lingering here—and maybe that’s it. Maybe that’s the thread I need to hold onto. Vadka and Luka, the reminders that even when someone we love is gone, the world keeps spinning. Life doesn’t stop. And maybe, just maybe, I have to remember that there’s always—always—something to be grateful for.
This is a small house. My sister and Vadka made sure Luka was always nearby. His little room is right off the kitchen, so he could play close, walk out to help her cook, or just be around. It was cozy, intimate, thoughtful. My sister loved decorating—obsessed over her space—and she made it beautiful. A soft white and beige aesthetic, clean lines, and gentle textures. And Luka’s room? That was the one place she let chaos bloom. She let him make a mess, let his imagination spill everywhere.
I peek in and see his artwork on the dresser. Pink smudges. A crooked jug. Portraits taped to the walls, messy, bold, and full of life.
It’s my fault he has a bitch for a nanny, and I need to fix this. He deserves better—so much better—than this. Of course he does.
I strain to hear Vadka in the other room. Maybe he’s gone to his office or the kitchen. But of course—he’s in his bedroom. What if he’s looking at her phone right now? Shit.
I move quietly down the hall toward his room, every sound amplified. My heart beats like a warning in my chest. Then—I see it. A thin sliver of light glowing from under the office door. He’s not in the bedroom. My heart stalls and then pounds harder. I need to move—now.
I push open the bedroom door fast. The scent hits me first. No trace of my sister anymore. None of her perfume, her lotion, her presence. Just Vadka. The quiet weight of his cologne. The clean scent of his body wash. The steam still clinging faintly to the room from his shower.