Total pages in book: 88
Estimated words: 84968 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 425(@200wpm)___ 340(@250wpm)___ 283(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 84968 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 425(@200wpm)___ 340(@250wpm)___ 283(@300wpm)
All I had to do was take this opportunity and run. When I was safe and settled, I would return and sneak my grandmother out as well. Maybe I'd find a state with better senior facilities. At least hope was free.
I rushed to the wardrobe, opening it to see designer suit after designer suit, all in the finest fabrics, all whispering wealth and decadence.
I could take one. I would bet sliding one of his jackets on would feel like I was wrapped in his powerful arms.
That wasn't what I needed. I slammed the doors and went to the dresser, ignoring the pang of regret and longing in my body.
The first drawer had more than I expected.
Thousands of dollars in cash, all neatly stacked and wrapped with paper strips labeled $5,000, $10,000 or $20,000.
The stacks were all made of fives, tens, twenties, or fifties. Small, unmarked bills.
What the hell?
Pavel had cost me two steady jobs and taken my virginity.
This was the least he owed me.
The next drawer down had T-shirts and the one below that had workout shorts and a pair of gray sweatpants. I thought about what he would look like in the gray sweatpants, how they would cling to his thighs, the outline of his cock visible. Mental images of him coming back into the room wearing nothing but these sweatpants hanging low on his hips, his abs glistening with sweat from an intense workout, came unbidden to my mind.
"Get yourself together," I whispered, shaking the images out of my head.
What was wrong with me?
I slid on the sweatpants, tightening the drawstring as much as I could before tying it off. Then I grabbed one of the white T-shirts. It was so soft and smelled like him.
As I slid the shirt on, I realized I had been right about the jacket, because just wearing this shirt made me feel like his arms were around me. Unfortunately, the fine fabric was also too thin to be completely opaque.
I needed something more.
I rummaged around and found a winter coat that hit my knees. It was huge, but it would keep me well hidden, and it wasn't going to be the strangest thing people saw in DC.
One quick glance out the window had confirmed where I was. The Washington Monument was easy to see in the sprawling cityscape.
Quickly I shoved money into the pockets of the sweatpants and more stacks in each of the pockets I could find in the coat.
My phone and purse were nowhere to be found, but I really wasn't expecting to find them. Either Pavel had them and I was never going to see them again, or they were left at the club, in which case I was still never going to see them again.
It was a pain, but if I was going to survive this, Alina Russo was dead. I didn't need her ID.
Finally, I needed to find something to put on my feet, but one look at the monstrous shoes that were lined up on the bottom of his closet told me that wearing those would draw more attention than I needed.
Ignoring a woman in clothes that were too big was one thing, since she could be making a fashion choice, or was possibly a tourist making do after their luggage went missing. Regardless, most people went out of their way to not notice other people. But when you added tripping around in clown shoes, staring would be unavoidable.
Instead, I went back to the dresser and searched until I found socks. Two thick pairs of wool socks pulled over my feet and halfway up my calves would have to do.
One last peek in the mirror told me I looked ridiculous, but no more or less ridiculous than any other person walking the streets of Washington, DC.
There really was something magical about a place where a crooked politician in a four-thousand-dollar suit, probably on the prowl for a sex worker, could walk down the same street as a woman who looked like a fashion school dropout, and people would avoid them both as if they had the same disease.
I would at least blend in enough that no one would take notice.
The coat was really nice, maybe oversized, but I didn’t think anyone would really pay any attention. If they did, they could easily assume I was making a statement of some sort.
Creeping into the main room, I looked around, expecting to see Pavel sitting in a chair staring at his phone, or pacing around with a glass of vodka in his hand.
Nope. He wasn't here.
The stack of papers was still spread out on the table, and I took the chance to grab the photos that he had of my grandmother and me from when I was a child. They weren’t much, but they were all I had left.