Читать книгу The bride of the silver dragon онлайн

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Natasha and I had our fun at the hotel. As with all the previous women before her, because I never cheat on the iron rule of not taking random women home. And the facade of this building, though largely renovated, clearly betrays its age and deplorable condition. I know of only one such place where I went willingly.

It is the shelter of Margarita Sheremetyeva.

Ignoring A’Lita’s triumphant chuckle, I start going through the pictures. Here I enter the house with flowers, but I can’t see who opens the door. Here’s clearly a couple of pictures from the window where I’m handing flowers to Margot.

Nothing criminal.

As if.

But in the next shot, she leans across the table to my face – and just remembering that moment makes me involuntarily stick my hand in my pants pocket. Even just from the outside, it somehow looks like something I want to cover up with an “18+" sign. Damn it, though, we were both fully clothed, and Marguerite was telling me off like a boy, and this was definitely not a date or an attempt to seduce me!