Perfect Monster (The Oligarchs) - Page 12

The house was quiet. Lots of light streamed in from multiple windows, all of them with ocean views. I walked along wondering who kept a place like this and didn’t live in it year-round.

Multi-billionaires, that was who.

I thought back to what Roman had told me about himself. He’d said he was nobody, but he was more dangerous than those gangsters.

I wasn’t sure what to think, but he had money—that much was obvious. Money and power. The way Manzi looked at him made me think he wasn’t lying about that part at least.

I still didn’t understand why he’d helped me. If he was involved with those gangsters, then he should’ve left me there to my fate. Instead, he’d whisked me away without telling anyone.

It was confusing and strange.

Then there was the car ride. My first in years. And that panic attack, and the way he’d talked me down—

And that voice, those lips, those eyes.

What had I gotten myself into?

I walked downstairs and back into the kitchen. The smell of fresh coffee wafted through the halls and drew me like a starving shark. I needed coffee like I needed blood in my veins and air in my lungs.

Coffee could solve all my problems.

I was so focused on getting down a mug that I didn’t notice the person sitting at the kitchen table until she cleared her throat and stood.

“Cassie. Good morning.”

I blinked a few times and looked over.

The girl was beautiful. Auburn hair with straight-cut bangs that would’ve looked dorky and lame on me, but somehow were chic and sophisticated on her. Slim nose, dark eyes, pale skin, full lips. She was tall, inches taller than me, and she wore smart black slacks and a tucked-in white blouse like she was about to go to some business casual lunch with very rich and very important people.

“Uh, hi, good morning, sorry, I didn’t know Roman had company, I guess I should—”

The girl held up a hand, grinning. Perfect white teeth. She tilted her head and brushed some stray hair back.

I stared at the missing stump of her right ear.

It was gone. The ear was totally missing—just a tangle of pink and red scar tissue over a small hole. It was ugly, so much in contrast to the rest of her, and if she noticed me staring she didn’t seem to mind.

“It’s okay. It’s not what you think. My name’s Roza.”

“Nice to meet you.” I hesitated, chewing my lip. “Uh, where are the mugs?”

“Cabinet to the right.”

I opened it, took one down, but hesitated. “Do you mind?”

“I made it for you.” She still grinned at me, and I decided to hold off on figuring out what the heck this model-gorgeous girl was doing in Roman’s kitchen at six in the morning. I poured the coffee and took a deep drink.

Black and rich. Heaven.

I took another sip, let the caffeine hit my bloodstream, then nodded to myself.

Fortified. Ready to handle anything.

“Sorry, so you’re not, uh, Roman’s girlfriend?”

She laughed lightly. “God, no, nothing like that. I’m his personal assistant.”

“Oh,” I said brightly and didn’t know why that seemed to unclench my guts. “I guess I should thank you for the clothes then. Are these yours?”

“Yep, but don’t worry, they’re clean and spares so feel free to keep them. You look good in that sweatshirt, even though it’s a little big. Personally, I’d like to see you in something a little tighter.”

I felt myself flush. “I’m not sure how to take that.”

“It’s a compliment. I can be a little forward sometimes. I apologize in advance for all the very awkward comments I make. For example, that little gap in your teeth is so fucking cute I could die.”

I closed my lips. “I’m self-conscious about it.”

“Don’t be. God, you’re pretty. I can see why he brought you back.”

I was definitely turning red. I hadn’t been complimented this much in forever. “Uh, you are too, thanks.”

“Naturally.” She tilted her head. “Come sit down. Want something to eat? I can get you a bagel or cook something if you want. I do really good eggs.”

“I’m okay with coffee.”

“Fruit? I got fruit cut up already.” She walked to the refrigerator. “Eat some fruit. Say yes or I’ll keep bugging you.”

“Yes, sure, okay.” I sat down and let her bring me a little plate of fruit with an English muffin on the side. When had she made that?

Roza sat down across from me. “Roman didn’t leave me any instructions on you, so I’m flying blind here. Did he say anything last night about today?”

“Just that I could go home.”

“Your bike’s outside, so I guess you’re free to head out whenever.”

I hesitated, not wanting to leave yet. Roza smiled at me, but it didn’t seem like she was kicking me out—only giving me an option.

I liked her. I didn’t know why. Maybe it was the nice things she said about me, or how forward and friendly she was, or the scar tissue where her ear should be—that reminded me so much of myself.

Tags: B.B. Hamel Erotic
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