Perfect Monster – The Oligarchs Read Online B.B. Hamel

Categories Genre: Dark, Erotic, Romance Tags Authors:
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Total pages in book: 86
Estimated words: 85089 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 425(@200wpm)___ 340(@250wpm)___ 284(@300wpm)
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“Is there a problem here?”

A voice behind me. I was about to hyperventilate from the stress and the worry that maybe, just maybe, this creep would sexually assault me in front of all these people.

Yeah, it felt like that kind of party.

My asshole assailant looked up, and his face instantly switched from rage-induced mania into something more like a very angry child caught sneaking into a forbidden room.

“Roman,” he said, gripping my wrist harder. “This woman ruined—”

“Let go of her, Manzi.”

Manzi, his face very red, released me instantly. I rubbed the aching bone and looked back at the looming figure behind me, then sucked in a surprised breath.

Dark hair, light skin, handsome, cut jaw, and eyes the pale blue of arctic ice. His expression was tightly controlled fury, though I got the strange, distinct sense that he could lose himself at any moment. He was muscular and athletic, and he wore an expensive, sleek suit—not quite as flashy as Manzi’s, but perfectly fitted to his exquisite body.

His eyes drew me in and made me want to get lost. I’d never seen eyes like those on a person before. They looked like a wolf leading its pack. His dark hair was pushed back in a deceptively messy, almost perfectly imperfect style that accentuated his high cheekbones and sculpted brow. His full, pale pink lips frowned and twitched slightly as he stared down Manzi like a bull about to wreck an alley filled with clowns wearing bright red capes.

Roman was gorgeous. I’d seen plenty of handsome men in my life, but Roman was on an entirely different level, like his mouth and eyes and cheeks and hands were built to attract and to please.

Like he was used to giving orders, and to being obeyed. He held himself like a prince, like a king.

He was a honeypot, a poison flower, a Venus flytrap, something beautiful and dangerous all at once.

Terror flitted through my gut as I turned back to Manzi.

He looked down at the ground. “There’s no problem, Roman.”

“There better not be, not at my party. Not when we’re celebrating a business venture that your father worked very hard to put together.”

“Of course, Roman. I didn’t mean anything. It’s only, this shirt—”

“I’ll write you a check.” Roman’s tone was a snarl and a whip.

Manzi flinched. “That won’t be necessary.”

“I insist. Or are you simply looking for any excuse to terrorize this girl?” He finally looked at me—

And his head tilted to the side like he saw something interesting for the first time.

His eyes roamed down along the full length of my body in very explicit judgment, and I felt weighed and measured. Coming from most men, that look would be rude at best, but somehow it felt natural from Roman, like he was used to taking the temperature of a person.

I hoped he didn’t realize that I was burning up.

I stared back. I couldn’t help myself. His gaze commanded respect and attention, and I was instantly drawn toward him, like I was a space rock on a crash course for the moon. I knew instinctively that he was a hunter, that he was a predator with sharp teeth and a strong jaw and a hunger that I couldn’t begin to sate, but my curiosity only intensified under the pressure of his presence.

He was alluring and terrifying.

“No, Roman. I apologize for making a scene.”

“Good. Go now. Don’t bother the girl again.”

Manzi turned and strode away. He grabbed his date’s arm and dragged her with him. She let out a string of curses in Spanish, none of which Manzi seemed to understand, let alone care about, but I was pretty sure they were extremely intense.

At least, I thought so, based on my Spanish 101.

Nobody stopped him as he pushed open the door and the pair disappeared outside.

The remaining men went back to drinking and talking in a low murmur.

“I apologize for my young, reckless friend.” Roman continued to look at me with those incredible eyes, and I felt like a patient on an operating table.

He could take me apart and I think I’d let him.

What the hell was wrong with me?

“It’s okay. It was just an accident.”

“Even still. Did he hurt you?”

“No. I’m fine, really.”

He nodded once. “If he bothers you again, come find me.”

And with that, he walked away and joined the nearest group of men. They greeted him with smiles, though they all seem reserved, respectful—even a little afraid.

I couldn’t blame them.

“Holy crap,” I whispered to myself as I picked up my tray. I returned it to the back, found a broom, and quickly cleaned up the glass shards.

They glittered in the overhead light. I kept glancing over at Roman, the center of attention.

Who the hell was that guy? He’d defused the very angry, very scary Manzi without breaking a sweat, and I got the feeling that Manzi wasn’t used to being deferential.


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