Total pages in book: 66
Estimated words: 63638 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 318(@200wpm)___ 255(@250wpm)___ 212(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 63638 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 318(@200wpm)___ 255(@250wpm)___ 212(@300wpm)
Once she records Mom’s blood pressure, Nicole coaxes her to lie down for a nap. Miraculously, she agrees without a fight. Sasha and I exchange shocked looks as Nicole tucks our mother in without a single protest.
“Whatever you’re paying her, double it,” Sasha mutters. “I’ve never seen Mom listen to anyone like that.”
I smirk, feeling a surge of pride that has everything to do with choosing Nicole.
“Let me show you to your room,” I tell her when she’s finished. I shoot Sasha a look, silently telling him to give us privacy.
She falls into step beside me, silent for a moment. Now that we’re alone, the air between us feels charged. Maybe it’s just in my head, but I almost feel a magnetic draw to her. When she moves, I move. When I breathe, she breathes. It’s the strangest sensation, yet I’m not ready for it to end.
We reach the guest wing, and I open the door to her suite. I step aside to let her enter first, allowing her the space to explore.
The room is bright, polished, and elegant without being cold—or so my designer assured me. She turns in a slow circle, her gaze sweeping over every detail.
“This is incredible,” she whispers, almost to herself.
“Comfortable?” I ask, leaning against the doorframe, crossing my arms.
She glances back at me, eyes still wide. “More than comfortable,” she says. “It’s bigger than my apartment.”
“My father had a thing for grandeur,” I tell her. “He had this house built when I was young, and he had a hand in every single detail. We’ve updated some of the interior in the last few years, but we’ve tried to keep it all in line with his original vision.”
“You grew up here?” she asks, suddenly shy.
“Yes.” I laugh. “My brother and I used to race through the halls and get in trouble for drawing on the walls. Mom always said this house was far too nice to be raising hellions.”
“I can’t imagine you being a hellion,” she murmurs, a small smile curving her lips. “You seem very close to your family.”
“They’re everything to me,” I say.
“I’m close with my family too,” she says. “It’s one of the reasons I took this job. My parents need help, and I want to be able to give it to them.”
I watch her for a moment longer. She parts her lips to say something, but color drains from her face and her hand darts to her stomach.
“Excuse me,” she mutters, brushing past me and hurrying into the bathroom.
I straighten instantly.
I’m not sure what to do. Her retching echoes from the bathroom, and instinct says to give her space to recover. After all, she’s the nurse. I have no idea how I could be of any help in this situation. But I don’t want to just leave her there, sick and weak on her first day in my home.
A prickling unease tells me something more is going on. I can’t pin it down, but I’m sure she meant to tell me something before bolting. In the end I force myself to back away; she probably doesn’t want to open the door to find me hovering.
11
NICOLE
When I wake, my first thought is that everything feels wrong. This isn’t my bed. This isn’t my room. Even the air feels strange. It takes a full minute to remember why.
I stretch slowly, savoring the weight of the luxurious comforter a little longer than I normally would. I’m not used to this level of luxury, with these high-thread-count sheets and silk curtains. I’m also not used to the quiet. Sergei’s home sits well outside the city’s hustle and bustle, and it feels like another world. Back home, taxi horns and the downstairs neighbors’ shouting serve as my alarm clock.
I pad across the floor barefoot and slip into a bathroom larger than my entire bedroom back home. White-marble counters, gold fixtures, and a rainfall shower big enough for a football team gleam under recessed lights. There’s even a separate bidet. I feel like I’m in a five-star hotel.
After I shower and dress, I step into the hallway with my phone in hand. It buzzes with a new message, and I smile when I see Mia’s name flash across the screen.
Just checking in. Still alive?
I laugh under my breath and tap out a quick reply.
Haven’t been murdered yet if that’s what you mean. Call?
Her reply pings back almost instantly.
Duh.
I press the call button and tuck the phone to my ear as I make my way downstairs. The scent of freshly brewed coffee drifts up, and my stomach growls at the hint of something sweet and fresh-baked. Needing less temptation, I veer toward the back of the house and into the sprawling gardens. Sunlight spills across my skin, a soft breeze curling around me as I push open the glass doors.