Page 16 of Crave

He holds up his wet palms. “Yeah, my bad.”

“Do I want to know how much drugs were in there?”

He pouts, grabbing a bottle of water from the fridge. “Enough for him to have me working like a donkey for the next year.”

“I’ll speak to him.” I can sweet talk my brother about half the time. I don’t think even Mikhail can really be upset at Alexei, not after everything he does for this family.

He hands me one of the frigid drinks and motions to the vehicles. “I guess if the king is calling, we must go?” His grin shows his silver tooth as he holds the door for me.

“Are you riding with me?” Most of the time, I prefer it. I worry about how cocky he is on his motorcycle.

He shrugs and moves to the passenger side. “You’ll be able to carry my body to the car? I want to be buried with my bike.”

His palm flattens against the window when I back down the driveway. “Goodbye, Betty. We had a fun life.”

My eyes roll. “You’re being ridiculous. Mikhail would have told me if he was really that upset.”

Alexei runs his fingers through his dark hair. “He’s too hard to read with that mask on. I can never tell. At least in the plane, it’s a thumbs up, or thumb down. I don’t see his face.”

My stomach tightens. “You’re still doing those jumps?” I hate that he loves to skydive. Almost as much as I dislike that Mikhail is a pilot.

They’re both too dangerous.

I can feel Alexei squinting at me, but I keep my face neutral.

“Maybe?” He draws the word out, still staring at me.

It makes my stomach grumble, thinking of him falling through the air.

What if his parachute doesn’t open?

“I wish you wouldn’t.” Chewing on my thumbnail won’t ease the rolling in my belly.

He turns away when the shadows of the building darken the car. “How else would I get out of the plane?” he grumbles towards the window.

I don’t even have a reply to that.

When we pull into the parking garage, I find my designated spot near the main entrance.

The fact that Mikhail owns the casino does have its perks.

My heels click over the hard marble floor when we step through the glass automatic doors.

The wash of the air conditioning is refreshing after the stifling heat of the Vegas afternoon.

“I need an iced coffee first.” I’ll pay for the sugar later. It will help to soothe the nerves in my belly.

An extra half hour on the treadmill. I might skip dinner.

Alexei picks up two chocolate chip cookies and raises his eyebrows at me.

“I don’t want one.” I’m already going to be paying for this drink.

He looks confused. “They’re both for me. See how little they are?” Holding them up separately, each is nearly the size of his hand.

How is that fair? He can eat whatever he wants without worry?

Yet I have to agonize about every single calorie.

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