Page 117 of Deceitful Vows

She does so without pause for thought, and then her cheeks turn the color of beets.

“You bought me a sex toy?” She barely drags in half a breath before releasing it with a ton of words. “How the hell is this supposed to help me sleep?”

“You use it to orgasm yourself into the sexual coma the limp dick on the plane should have placed you in.” I move closer, needing less distance to ensure she doesn’t try to bullshit her way out of the truth. My lie detector machine doesn’t work well from afar. “When was the last time you got a solid eight hours?” I don’t give her the chance to lie. “In that little cabin at Kolomna. Demyan had a peanut for a cock but made up for what it lacked with a magic tongue and gifted fingers. I heard your screams from the lake, but I had to wait to tease you about it since you were passed out for eight… whole… hours.”

She acts as if a full night’s sleep isn’t the equivalent of a miracle for her. “I was zonked from the alcohol we drank.”

“You never drank when we went out. You didn’t want to face the repercussions of underage drinking with your father, and none of the boys we hung out with were stupid enough to give you alcohol. Not if they wanted to live.” This is the curse of too much alcohol. I speak before thinking. “I’m an asshole who doesn’t dese?—”

“You’re right,” Nikita interrupts, never one to start a fight. “I did wonder what his response would have been, which is exactly why I didn’t drink.” She holds up the clitoral vibrator. “But I still don’t see this helping.”

“You won’t know unless you try.” It sure worked for me. I slept over ten hours the night Andrik snuck into my bed in the middle of the night.

After recalling this room comes with a sofa bed, I remove my “luggage” from the only full sofa in the room before pulling out the made-up bed beneath.

“Look at that, a fancy-schmancy bed solely for me.”

Nikita huffs. “Remember those words when you’re whining about a sore back in the morning.” Her exhausted eyes drift between the sofa bed and me before she asks, “Are you sure you don’t want to share a bed with me?” She jingles the sex toy like it’s not the cause of the heat on her cheeks. “I could test this out in the bathroom. It seems to be my venue of choice of late.”

If I truly believed she’d give up the good stuff she withheld earlier, I wouldn’t leave this room for anyone or anything, but since I know she keeps her secrets as well-guarded as her stress levels, I reply, “I’m sure. Sleep well. I’ll see you in the morning.”

“Okay. I love you.”

“I love you too,” I reply as she begrudgingly makes her way into the main bedroom of the penthouse suite.

The door barely closes when I race out of our suite. I’m not hunting down Andrik with the hope he will toss me some scraps. It is merely to ensure my side is heard before his father makes out our arrangement is more sinister than it is.

“Is everything okay with your room?” asks the check-in clerk when she spots me milling in the foyer.

“Yeah. Our room is fine, thank you.”

She watches me suspiciously when I inch back until I can see most of the second-level mezzanine. I look in the direction where I spotted Maksim over an hour ago before recalling Aleena said the person watching me was opposite him.

My heart thuds wildly when the features Aleena mentioned earlier come into focus a second after peering behind me. A fit body encased in an expensive designer suit, dark locks long enough to run your fingers through them, and soul-piercing blue eyes make up an incredibly appealing package.

They just don’t belong to the man who causes my heart to beat in my ears as often as he forces guilt to weigh down my chest.

They belong to his little brother.

45

ANDRIK

When I detect I am being watched, I stop eyeballing Mikhail guiding Zoya into the lower-level bar of the hotel. It isn’t as heated as the glare I issued earlier when I noticed Zoya’s arrival in my hometown had caught the attention of numerous men, but it is just as evil.

“Who is she to you?”

I spin away from the floor-to-ceiling two-way mirror of Maksim’s office to greet him with a handshake. We’ve met previously, but this is the first time it is about business.

When Maksim arches a dark brow, conscious I am being purposely coy, I say, “I could ask you the same.”

My daggers miss the bullseye when the faintest grin tugs his lips to the side at the same time his nostrils flare.

He wasn’t eye-fucking Zoya earlier.

His focus was steadfast on her friend.

How do I know this? He isn’t the slightest bit bothered about the visual of Zoya and Mikhail appearing cozy mere feet from his office window. I’m the only one struggling with jealousy.

---