Total pages in book: 107
Estimated words: 100086 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 500(@200wpm)___ 400(@250wpm)___ 334(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 100086 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 500(@200wpm)___ 400(@250wpm)___ 334(@300wpm)
Because she was absolutely not taking any money from Dmitri. Goddamn Romanovs and their goddamn money and power plays.
She slipped out while Hadley was occupied, pausing to whisper, “Thanks,” to Mrs. Richards. Some days Hadley was fine with her leaving—or barely noticed at all—but Olivia didn’t want to make things harder on the older woman than she had to. Mrs. Richards squeezed her shoulder and smiled, and then headed for the kitchen.
Olivia grabbed her purse and headed out. She locked the door behind her, the small hairs on the back of her neck rising, though she didn’t actually see anything suspicious. That didn’t stop her from looking over her shoulder more times than she could count on her way to work. There was no sign of Sergei, but she swore she could feel his eyes on her.
Maybe I should have called in and stayed home with Hadley.
“Hey, Olivia.”
She pasted a smile on her face for Benji. It wasn’t his fault she was in a foul mood. Not to mention—as if she needed yet another reminder—this job paid her bills. Pissing off her boss was a good way to get her ass kicked to the curb. “Hey, Benji. Slow night?”
“It’ll pick up.” He filled a drink order, each movement so natural it was obvious he’d spent years behind this bar. “If you want to grab another case of Bud, that’d be great.”
“Sure thing.” She didn’t mind hauling things from the industrial-sized walk-in fridge in the back. It gave her some much-needed time to compose herself. Olivia ducked through the door leading back to the supply rooms and then into the fridge itself. She closed her eyes and inhaled the icy air. It would be okay. She’d figure this mess out. She just needed time.
The problem was that time might be the one thing she didn’t have.
Her phone buzzed in her pocket, and she cursed when she saw Sergei’s name on the screen. I don’t have it in me to deal with this tonight.
She headed back out to the bar area. A group of tourists huddled around a table, pressed closely together as they flipped through pictures on a tiny camera screen, and a set of businessmen at the bar who’d obviously just gotten finished with work, though they hadn’t left the job at the office if their conversation was anything to go by. And, finally, tucked in the back corner was a couple so focused on each other, Olivia was pretty sure she could dance naked around the room and neither of them would pay her the slightest bit of attention.
The thought of dancing naked brought back memories of him. Cillian. She’d been so busy with the mess of Sergei and worrying about Hadley being a picky eater that she hadn’t had a spare minute to really consider the possible consequences of her actions.
Okay, that was a lie.
She crouched down behind the bar and started unloading beer bottles. It was mindless work, for which she was grateful. She wasn’t ready to face actual customers yet.
“I know you don’t like me much, sweetheart, but hiding behind the bar is a new low.”
Oh God. She closed her eyes, took a deep breath, and opened them again. Sure enough, Cillian was still there, peering over the bar at her, his dark eyes lightly mocking. Her body burned, the taste of him filtering through her memory as if it had been seconds since he’d kissed her, minutes since he was inside her, instead of a little less than twenty-four hours.
She shoved to her feet. “What are you doing here?”
“Your customer service is seriously lacking.” He leaned back, his gaze skating over her in a move she could almost feel. It made her reconsider her clothing—a worn pair of perfectly faded shorts over black tights, her spiked knee-high combat boots, and her favorite white T-shirt—which only served to irritate the hell out of her. She’d been comfortable when she left the house, and now she wasn’t. The fact that he didn’t have to say a single thing to make her skin heat just aggravated her further.
She crossed her arms over her chest. First Sergei, and now this. It wasn’t fair to compare the two, but she wasn’t feeling particularly fair right now. She was feeling cornered. “You’re in my bar.”
His eyebrows rose. “I was under the impression this was Benji’s bar.”
“It is.” She couldn’t tell if the heat pulsing beneath her skin was from embarrassment, or the fact that he’d left a few buttons undone on his perfectly pressed blue dress shirt and she could see that the tattoos on his neck extended south. How far south?
Why in the world had her hormones decided to wake up for this guy? She’d been doing just fine on her own—with regular assists from her buzzy toy BOB. Her life had been going okay until yesterday and, sure, she had so much pent-up desire that she’d been the one to jump him after that initial kiss, but that didn’t change the fact that O’Malley’s presence here now heralded all sorts of trouble for her. Last night she’d let herself get out of control and then, less than an hour later, Sergei had been on her doorstep. Blaming that on Cillian didn’t make the slightest bit of sense, but she couldn’t help linking up the two in her head. Both were bad news. She wanted no part of their family entanglements.