Total pages in book: 51
Estimated words: 47597 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 238(@200wpm)___ 190(@250wpm)___ 159(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 47597 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 238(@200wpm)___ 190(@250wpm)___ 159(@300wpm)
Now, they're in the same city again. Of course I worry. But talking about him has always been strictly off-limits. She doesn't want to hear anything about him, especially not from the people who know her best.
"Yeah, I'm happy here."
Her answer is too quick, too…fake.
"Truly happy, Nadia?" I press, eyes narrowed on her.
The truth is right there in her eyes. She still misses him.
The bartender appears before she has to answer, sliding our shots across the table. I pretend for her sake that he's distracted me, but I already have my answer. She isn't happy here. She's just faking it like always.
But we learned long ago that we can't force her to face it. We tried that. She ran off to Los Angeles. We tried it with him, too. He got in a bar fight that nearly ruined his career. Now, we do this. We dance around it and pretend they aren't both miserable.
Fake it til you make it, right?
I scoop my shot up, arching one brow at her.
She groans, reluctantly grabbing hers. "You aren't getting me drunk tonight, baby sister."
"We'll see about that," I smirk.
"I'm serious! I have to be at the studio early."
"Then you better drink your weight in water because you're about to drink it in vodka." I bat my lashes at her. "Now, drink."
She scowls at me, tipping the shot back. The grimace on her face is hysterical. She hates the taste of vodka. I quickly down mine, letting the alcohol burn its way down my throat. It's strong, but I like the flavor.
"Gah!" Nadia shudders, slamming her shot glass down on the bar. "I don't know how you and Dad drink this!"
"It's not that bad."
"It's awful."
"Don't let him hear you say that," I say, giggling. "You can insult Russia all you want in front of him, but never let him hear you insult their vodka."
Nadia chuckles because she knows I'm right. Dad may hate his country of birth on account of them trying to assassinate his father, but he's passionate about their vodka.
"How are he and Mom doing?"
"Fine." I roll my eyes, fighting a grin. "He's driving her crazy like usual. I don't know what possessed him to retire. He's terrible at it. He just follows her around, annoying her all day. Your He-Man will do that for you, kisa. Kisa, come, let me do that. She said if he doesn't find a hobby soon, she's going to strangle him."
"Taking care of her is his hobby."
"No, that's his purpose," I correct, motioning for the bartender. "Chasing her around is his hobby."
Nadia giggles because she knows I'm right. Our parents have always been ridiculously, blissfully in love. Sometimes, I think I want the same thing…and then I remember everything Nadia's been through and change my mind. I don't want to end up nursing a broken heart for the rest of my life like my sister. That's a lot more common than happily ever after these days. And given my track record with questionable decisions? Well, better to skip it altogether than risk it.
"Hey, ladies."
We glance over at the same time to find a man with bloodshot green eyes and a wrinkled suit standing way too close to Nadia for comfort. Two of his friends loiter behind him. Even from where I'm seated, I can smell the alcohol on them.
Great. This is just what we need.
"Heard you up on stage," he says, leering at my sister. "You've got pipes."
"Thanks," she mutters, tense and clearly not interested.
He's either too drunk or too oblivious to take the hint because he steps closer, crowding her on her stool.
"Can I buy you a drink?"
"Thank you, but no." She smiles politely and leans away from him. "I've already ordered one, and that's my limit."
"Ah, come on," he tries to cajole, leaning down over her. "You entertained us for the last hour. It's our turn to entertain you."
And that's about enough of that. Why can't some people ever take a hint?
"How?" I ask, scowling at him. "Are you going to dance for us? Stand on your head? Juggle?"
He flicks a dismissive look in my direction and then glances back at Nadia, his smirk growing as his gaze flicks up and down her body, lingering on her breasts. "Oh, I can think of a few ways."
His friends snicker.
Oh. Gross.
"Yeah, no thanks," she mutters, stiffening in outrage. "I'm not interested."
"Why not?"
"Because I'm not. I wasn't aware I needed to explain myself to you." Her eyes narrow on him, her patience at an end. Nadia may be soft-hearted, but she isn't a pushover. "I know this might not register in your current state, but no is a complete sentence."
"So is watch your fucking mouth, you fat bitch," he snaps, immediately flipping from trying to be charming to insults and threats. Typical. Guys like him never handle rejection well. Nadia is gorgeous, successful, and talented…three things he'll never be. He insults her to make himself feel better about the fact that he'll never be in her league.