Total pages in book: 101
Estimated words: 94997 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 475(@200wpm)___ 380(@250wpm)___ 317(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 94997 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 475(@200wpm)___ 380(@250wpm)___ 317(@300wpm)
My twin brother, Ford, joins me as I walk toward the back of the restaurant.
“Kissing her was too much, don’t you think?” he asks. “Billie might chop your balls off for doing that. Ivy isn’t one of your party girls.”
I smirk because Ivy certainly isn’t. But he doesn’t know we’ve already been together. It’s the great thing about being known as the clown of the group—no one takes me seriously, and they’re not surprised by any of the things I do.
“It was just a friendly greeting. I kiss Billie the same way.” He stops dead in his tracks, and I’m quick to say, “You know it’s a joke, bro.” I laugh, but he’s anything but amused. I roll my eyes. Fuck, everyone around us is getting all in their feelings and stepping into relationships and are possessive assholes.
“Let’s get this over with,” he grits. “We don’t want to be late for Mother’s dinner.” I internally grimace because our mother, Anya Ivanov, can’t cook for shit. But if we’re late, she legitimately might remove one of our fingers as a consequence. It’s what I find so charming about our crazy adoptive mother, who runs the underworld auctions. And our adoptive father, River, who’s a gun dealer, will most likely laugh and say he warned us.
I don’t bother knocking as I open the door to the office. The man behind the desk pales as he looks up at us.
“I-I have the m-money!” he splutters, and I hear my brother close the door behind us. I crack my knuckles with the same beaming smile I gave Ivy only minutes ago. The truth of the matter is, there’s one thing I like just as much as women. And that’s blood.
“But we should’ve received the money yesterday. See where the problem lies?” I ask rhetorically, my smile never dimming.
My brother and I were nothing but street rats when we were kids. We were fortunately stupid enough to break into our adoptive parents’ home, and instead of killing us, they took us in. Then we hit the jackpot when we caught the attention of Eli Monti as teenagers. He’s around the same age as we are, and our fangs were sharpened to work for the now Italian mafia boss in Manhattan. As his seconds, we get all the fun jobs. And although Ivy’s night might’ve turned to shit, mine’s just getting started.
CHAPTER 3
Ivy
Because I go out on a lot of dates, I’ve become very good at hacking into guys’ phones and deleting my number as well as any trace of our meeting. I used to change my number until I realized this way was much more efficient. The men I go out with seem to get attached way too quickly. Even though I explain very clearly that I’m not looking for anything other than one night together, they always try to pursue it further, and I wonder if it’s the old saying of wanting what you can’t have.
I tried having a boyfriend once. It only lasted a few weeks before I became so bored with the back-and-forth texting and his need to call every night that I had to end it. Talking about the weather, his job, and what I was up to put my brain into snooze mode. So I’ve decided one night is all a guy gets. Sometimes, if they’re decent in bed, I might see them a few times, but that rarely happens because they only care about their needs, and Lord forbid I use them for my own.
Having the apartment to myself today gives me the opportunity to laze about with only my underwear on. Billie, my best friend and roommate, is at work and will most likely go to Ford’s house tonight. She seems to go over there more than he comes here since she picked up a stray cat and made him keep it to make her happy. I’m allergic to cats, so that little fucker wasn’t coming anywhere near here. No, thank you to a leaky nose and watery eyeballs.
I grab a bowl, shake some Super Crunch cereal into it, and then pour some milk over it before I sit on the couch, kick my feet up, and watch television—the perfect type of lunch.
My friends call me a serial dater. And while I agree with them, I look at it as exploring all of my options. Why would I settle for one bad lay when I could find multiple, hoping I’ll discover a few who know how to use what they have? Who knows how to please and pleasure?
I remember one of my best friends, Hope Ivanov, asking me once who was the best I’ve ever had in bed. And while I tend to tell my friends everything, I didn’t tell her it was her cousin, Hawke.
My grip tightens on my spoon as I think about the audacious asshole from last night and how he’s always been one.