Total pages in book: 152
Estimated words: 154368 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 772(@200wpm)___ 617(@250wpm)___ 515(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 154368 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 772(@200wpm)___ 617(@250wpm)___ 515(@300wpm)
She rolled her neck, stretched her fingers wide, and then curled them back. "Can someone get me a broom?"
Kaoru straightened from where he'd been leaning against the wall. "You don't have to clean up. We have people who—"
"Naw." Deja stretched her hands. "I have to make sure the hair is disposed of properly. I'm not about to have people blaming me because someone put roots on them."
Kaoru's mouth parted like the words what the fuck does that mean had started forming and then got lost somewhere between his brain and his tongue.
Meanwhile Rin snapped his fingers once.
Two guards rushed out of the room.
Minutes later they returned with a broom and dustpan.
Deja looked up organizing the bags of hair. "Thanks."
But the men didn't walk to her.
They walked to Rin and handed him the broom and dustpan like they were presenting weapons.
Kaoru looked at them. “Are you two crazy? Why would you hand Rin those?”
For real, you think Mr. Royal Guy even knows how to sweep?
I chuckled.
The men remained silent.
Rin took the broom and dustpan, walked over to where Deja had been working, and started sweeping.
Say what?
Like me, Kaoru's mouth was fully open now.
On my side, Yoichi actually blinked three times.
Deja shrugged and finished getting her items together.
And I don't know why I'd never really looked at Rin before—maybe because he was always against a wall appearing high and mighty—but watching him cross the room with a broom in his hand forced me to actually see him.
Okay. You’ve got some muscle on you.
He wasn’t bulky, but he damn sure was built like a weapon.
His shoulders were wide enough to block a doorway and his forearms—now visible because he'd rolled his sleeves back to sweep—were corded with muscle and laced with veins that moved under his skin when his hands shifted on the broom handle.
That single long braid swung between his shoulder blades.
I could honestly see why some women would say, “Fuck it. You can put a bag over my face when we have sex.”
Still. . .Deja wasn’t one of them.
We all continued to watch Rin sweep and as he got closer to Deja, he towered over her.
Deja wasn’t as tall as Nika, but she was close to five-seven in bare feet.
Rin still had a solid eleven inches on her easy.
When he swept past her to reach a stray curl near the counter, his shadow fell across her whole body.
Deja didn't look up, but she shifted.
Just barely.
The smallest adjustment of weight from one foot to the other, like her body had registered his proximity before her brain approved the memo.
Then, Rin finished collecting strands and curls.
I frowned.
And where did he even learn how to sweep?
This man was actual royalty. His bloodline probably had a family crest, a Wikipedia page, and tons of portraits in museums. Men like Rin didn't sweep. They had people who swept, and those people had people who supervised the sweeping, and those people had people who quality-checked the supervision.
Yet here Rin was.
Broom in hand.
While he continued to work, I tilted my head and looked at his face.
Rin's face was the kind of face that had never known struggle.
There were no bumps, blemishes, not even a single line that suggested he'd ever frowned hard enough to leave a mark.
In fact. . .there was absolutely no way this man washed his own face.
Someone did it for him.
Some poor woman—or even a team of women—probably stood over him every damn night with a hot towel and a seven-step routine involving serums I couldn't pronounce and creams that cost more than my rent.
And his skin said that it had been maintained by professionals since birth.
I sighed.
Alright. I’m just jealous that he’s so well-kept. I’m going to leave him alone.
That still didn’t stop me from monitoring his movements around Deja.
Once everything was in the dustpan, he looked at Deja. “Where do you want me to put the hair?"
And I had to admit that Rin’s voice was pretty damn sexy.
But there was this pondering on my end where I wondered if his voice was actually that sexy or was it because he barely spoke.
It could have been that when a man rationed his words, anytime one heard him speak. . .it felt like a reward. Like you'd earned it. Like he'd looked around the room and decided you were the one worth spending a sentence on.
Deja must have felt it too, because she smirked before she answered and pointed to a plastic bag she'd set off to the side. "Put the hair over there. I have to burn it."
"My men will take care of that part."
More words from Rin. This is some sort of record.
I looked at Deja already knowing what she was going to say.
"Naw. Your men can’t do it." She held up a hand. "I do it myself."
Rin didn't argue. He placed the hair in the bag carefully and snapped his fingers.