Total pages in book: 88
Estimated words: 84901 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 425(@200wpm)___ 340(@250wpm)___ 283(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 84901 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 425(@200wpm)___ 340(@250wpm)___ 283(@300wpm)
It was obvious: Vassili Resnov’s actions cost me a relationship with my parents.
And now, Rain, with her desperate kisses and frantic devotion, wanted to keep me tethered. I just felt so far away from Natasha. Rain patched holes. Natasha filled them. Rainita Howard wanted me alive … fleeing the scene. Natasha made me want to live … and get justice for Papa.
19
NATASHA
“I miss … my pop.” I gritted out, fingers clutching the top of the banister while morning light streamed into the massive two-story windows.
Below, from the foyer, Vassili glared up at me. “Who the hell am I ?”
“I’m getting too old to argue with you.” I paused just as Momma entered the sprawling foyer, stilettos clicking against marble.
“I’m tired of the bickering,” Momma complained.
Vassili raised his hands.
“You’re not innocent.” She rounded on him. “Does this situation seem familiar? Me arguing with my dad from the top of the staircase … Was that how it went down?”
“Nyet. I remember your dad standing up there like f—friggen King of Los Angeles—Chief of the LAPD. All of his cronies around, ready to place a big fat slug between my eyes.”
“Oh, that guy. Maxwell was it?” I snorted. “I recall Anatoly, vaguely. But I get it, Vassili.” I had crossed the line by allowing my thoughts to materialize when calling Pop by his name, and a vein stuck out of his neck. “Grandpa Maxwell should’ve been one of the good guys. He stood behind a badge that should’ve counted for something … until he tried to kill your relationship with my momma.” I glared down at him. “Hello? Does that sound familiar?”
Mouth corded in anger, he growled, “Nyet.”
“I’m moving out.”
“With what money, Natasha? The second a truck hauls away your stuff—and I mean crap that didn’t come from my wallet” —he slapped a hand at his chest—“I can’t help you.”
“Fine. I’ll have you know, I won’t be destitute. A few museums are holding onto a couple of my pieces, as well as having a few pieces sold at an art gallery in Long Beach.”
“Chump change. And I don’t understand how you used Lachlan’s clout but won’t use mine. You could have your own art gallery in Downtown Los Angeles.”
I shoved a few tresses from my face and stared down at my dad. “Yeah? Nepo Baby at its greatest. No. Lachlan had nothing to do with the art gallery in Long Beach—it might be near his family home, but nope. No help. But thanks for assuming my art can’t stand on its own.”
He grumbled silently.
“However, I received an advance to shoot the cover image for a famous biography. You might know him, your old favorite Dodger.”
“Are you moving in with him?”
My eyes fluttered away as I strolled from the staircase.
Momma’s voice followed after me. “Vassili, she’s twenty-two—”
“I don’t give a crap, Zariah. This looks bad.”
I closed the door to my parents’ raised voices. Lachlan had been arguing with his agent during our plane ride. That woman was no joke. He should’ve been at spring training, and LaShawn needed a good reason to avoid a fine.
“Now, he’s doing something he doesn’t want to do …” I murmured, free-falling back into my bed.
Crown, the publisher for Michelle Obama, Mathew McConaughey, and even Dolly Parton had gotten in on that action, had wanted Lachlan’s story for the longest. Aside from the controversial sex tape, he was the most tight-lipped sports celebrity ever. Meh. That might serve as one cause.
We’d been sitting in my family jet, leaving Naxos a day after spring training began, when he took his agent LaShawn’s call. He conceded with a vacant expression, giving his agent one condition.
That condition? Me. I’d be shooting the cover photo.
Before we parted, Lachlan held me in his arms. Pleasure slid over me like liquid chocolate over a sweet treat. He’d groaned my name with added emphasis, leaving me melted. Electricity had snapped the small gap between us, and we made out in the private hangar in Arizona before I continued to Los Angeles.
My body ran hot with fever just thinking about it. A vibration in my pocket startled me. I answered it, sight unseen.
“Finally, you answer,” said the man with the charming accent. Unfortunately, it was the wrong attractive accent. Wrong guy.
Trying to hide the cringe in my voice, I said, “Hey, Lorenzo.”
“Will you be at the hospital on Monday?”
It was Wednesday, and I’d planned to join Lachlan this weekend. Return late Sunday since I didn’t want to make him my entire world. He was already in the center of my universe. And I had papers to sign on Monday. “Let’s play it by ear.”
“Oh,” he said.
Dang, why did he sound so down? Why did I have this connection to his cousin, Rain? “Hey, I have an idea. I’d like to dedicate a tree to Rain at the hospital. How does that sound?” I’d tell him in person that this odd situation must stop. I flipped onto my stomach in bed, glanced at the phone. Lorenzo hadn’t answered me. “You there?”