Broken Whispers (PERFECTLY IMPERFECT #2) by Neva Altaj EPUB & PDF – eBook Details Online
- Status: Available for Free Download
- Authors: Neva Altaj
- Language: English
- Genre: contemporary romance
- Format: PDF / EPUB
- Size: 2 MB
- Price: Free
Present
MIKHAIL
My shoes echo in the empty anteroom of the Chicago Opera Theater,
mixing with the faint opening notes of Swan Lake coming from the hallway
on the left. With the ballet already starting, the entrance is vacated. I nod to
the security guy, then turn and follow the long hallway toward the double
wooden doors at the far end, where a poster hanging on the wall attracts my
attention.
They changed the photo. The previous one showed the whole troupe in
the middle of the group jump, taken from afar so the whole stage was
visible, but the new one shows only one dancer, the shot zoomed in. I take a
step closer until I’m standing right before the image. Without conscious
thought, my hand rises and traces the contour of her face—her sharp
cheekbones, her cherry blossom mouth, down her slender neck, then back
up over the outline of her eyes, which seem to be looking straight at me.
The big letters at the top of the poster announce this evening’s show as her
last performance. Looks like the season is closing.
Sometimes, I imagine approaching her, maybe after one of her shows.
We would exchange a few words and I would invite her to dinner. Nothing
fancy, perhaps that cozy tavern downtown. They have the best wine and . . .
I catch my reflection visible on the glass covering the poster, and I instantly
let my hand fall back, feeling like my touch somehow tainted her. I guess
this is as close as someone like me, hideous inside and out, should be
allowed near such perfection.
I carefully open the big wooden door and quietly slip inside. With the
only source of light coming from the stage, the space is rather obscure, but I
still keep myself to the back where the darkness is the thickest. I’ve been
extremely careful in pursuing my obsession, always making sure I come
after the play starts and leave before it ends. It’s better to keep a low profile.
Saying I don’t blend into the crowd would be an understatement.
My looks have never really bothered me. In my line of business, the
scarier you look, the easier it is to make people talk. Sometimes, the only
thing needed was for me to enter the room and they would spill all they
know. My reputation has helped as well.
Finding a suitable fuck was usually tricky, but it had nothing to do with
my face. A lot of women from our circle were eager to lure the Bratva’s
Butcher into their bed, but they became significantly less eager when I
presented them with the rules: only remove enough clothes to get the job
done, strictly from behind, and no touching of any kind.
The civilians had different reactions. Most tended to avoid looking
directly at me. Others liked to stare. I was perfectly fine with either
approach.
So, why the fuck does it bother me now? Why am I hiding in dark
corners, stalking this girl I’ve only seen from afar, like a psycho? I’m still
debating my sanity when the solo violin theme begins and my eyes snap
back to the stage. I know nothing about music, but I haven’t missed any of
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