Sex, Lies & Nikolai Read Online Free PDF Page B

turned to me yet. He’s talking very little back to the man while his eyes lazily watch the television screen. There’s some B grade movie on. Some guy has just gotten shot and there’s a pack of dogs tearing him apart, intestines flying around like thick noodles.
    This is not what I expected.
    Pimply man lightly presses me forward, gesturing me to move. I do very reluctantly. The buzzing continues and the tattoo artist laughs at something he’s saying before he takes notice of me. His face instantly drops and he says something to Nikolai that causes him to finally turn his head to me.
    I don’t think the man speaking to him has entertained him at all judging by Nikolai’s face, clear of emotion. If he’s surprised to see me, he doesn’t show it, but there’s something edgy in his expression and it makes me feel entirely unwelcome.
    Has he always looked this scary? I try to think of this morning, at the smirk he flashed me, at the way he looked me over right before he wrapped the tissue around my finger.
    It’s like seeing two different people.
    The tattoo gun stops and the artist backs away, already sensing the shift in the air. It’s not one I entirely understand. I’m just another person that’s been waiting in the line-up to ask for a loan, but everyone’s looking uncomfortably at Nikolai.
    He’s still looking coolly at me, but he says something in their tongue and they immediately get up and leave. Even Pimply is gone and closing the door behind him. I look around again, feeling more uncertain about being here now that it’s just us in the room. I’m not sure I should be here at all, when I hear his voice break through the silence.
    “Three times in one day we see each other,” Nikolai remarks in that spine tingling voice, his eyes running over me. “Must be a special day.”
    I want to tell him no, it’s not a special day at all. It’s actually one of the worst, but I’m so utterly lost right now, I don’t know where to begin.
    Nikolai wastes no time standing up, his upper body completely visible now. He slides his crisp white dress shirt back on, leaving it unbuttoned. My eyes inevitably find their way back to him, to his inked chest exposed and red in one spot where it’s just been worked on by that tattoo gun. There’s writing half-finished and in a different language, but I’m too distracted by his physique.
    I didn’t think he was built under his suit. I figured he had an average body, but no. There are lean muscles and abs, and the tattoos are so unique, I wonder what they all mean.
    Christ, he’s good looking. He’s…fucking spectacular to look at in fact.
    He knows I’m looking him over, and his mouth quirks up in amusement. “You like what you see, rybka?”
    I tear my gaze away from his chest. “I was looking at your tattoos.”
    It’s both the truth and a lie. I was looking at his tattoos and admiring him. He knows it too.
    He stands there for several moments, and instead of moving straight on, he does the same thing I was doing. He looks me over from top to bottom with this brazen look on his face. “I like what I see too,” he informs me on a smirk. “I like it every morning.”
    I don’t know if he’s being serious, or laughing at me. It’s my low self-esteem that tells me he’s laughing. I’m terribly underweight, my blonde hair is dry and brittle, and I don’t wear any make up to hide the tired bags under my eyes. In a different world I’d actually be attractive. But I don’t see myself gaining twenty pounds, being able to afford decent hair or skin products. I look utterly tragic.
    I am tragic.
    “How does this work?” I ask, moving this along.
    “How does what work?”
    “This. Being here.”
    “It doesn’t work. You don’t belong here.”
    I’m surprised by his words. “Why not?”
    He tilts his head to the side, a weary look on his face. “Because this isn’t a place for you, Alina.”
    Then he moves to his desk and circles it, grabbing a carton