Page 21 of Baby for the Bratva

She frowns, thrusting the cigar out. “What do you mean? I won. You’re smoking in your room and I found it.”

“You said I was smoking a cigarette, and that’s not a cigarette.”

Her expression drops when she realizes her mistake. “Oh, come on, that’s not fair. This is the same thing.”

My eyes travel up her legs, arriving at the hem of her dress. It’s so short I can almost see her panties, but I won’t get that pleasure until she lifts up the end herself. “I have won, darling. It’s time to hold up your end of the deal.”

She looks around the room, scanning desperately for some way out of my game. I wouldn’t stop her from running, but it seems more like she wants a fair victory. Sometime tells me she might even show me what’s under her dress if she can’t find a way to win this.

“Rules are rules,” I remind her.

Suddenly, her eyes stop scanning, and a smile spreads over her face. My stomach sinks as she dashes over to the bed, grabbing a pack of Russian cigarettes from the bedside table.

I’m going to fucking kill Chekhov for leaving those behind.

“Here are your cigarettes,” Stella says, tossing the pack to me as she walks up to the door. “And if you were wondering what’s under my dress, I’ll give you a hint…” She opens the door and looks over her shoulder. “Nothing at all.”

I curse under my breath in Russian as she leaves. This woman is going to drive me crazy. I don’t even care about the cocaine shipment anymore. All I want to do is fuck her until my balls dry up and my cock falls off into the ocean.

10

Stella

I join Molly the next morning for breakfast. She thinks it’s hilarious how I twisted Yuri’s balls last night, making him think he was going to get lucky before shooting him down. I think of it as revenge for what Tyler did to me, a special gift from us women to guys who have forgotten how to be gentlemen.

“Oysters actually don’t have much flavor,” Molly says, putting a plate down in front of me. “Try them.”

I wrinkle my nose at them. They look like cold gray boogers. I don’t see the appeal. “Are those raw?”

She nods. “They’re better that way. Trust me, I had smoked oysters once, and the texture was just awful.”

“I can’t imagine it being worse than this,” I say, picking up one of the shells and pushing my fork through the coagulated mess. Was this really a living creature at one point? It just looks like a glob of organs.

“They’re really good, and it’s all you can eat for breakfast, so enjoy. I know you’ll love them,” she says, her eyes lighting up as she takes one for herself. She stirs it around in the shell, puts a dash of Tabasco sauce on top, and then dumps it into her mouth.

I look down at my own, wondering if the Tabasco would make it better or worse. I don’t mind spicy things, but spicy boogers don’t sound any more appealing than regular ones do.

Molly urges me to eat it, grabbing another one and shoveling it into her mouth.

Okay, this can’t be that bad. I’m supposed to be living a little, trying new things and discovering myself. One raw oyster isn’t going to kill me.

I close my eyes and scoop it into my mouth, swallowing almost immediately without chewing. I smack my lips a few times as I process the taste.

I smile. “I guess you’re right. It tastes a bit like the ocean.”

“Reminds me of the beach when I was younger. We probably drank half the ocean while we were swimming.”

I laugh, remembering the distinct salty taste on my lips. This is similar, but milder and without all the gritty sand.

“Good source of vitamins, too, by the way,” Molly says, reaching for her third oyster. “And you need that after throwing up last night.”

“Don’t remind me,” I say with a laugh, running my fingers through my hair. “That shit was crazy.”

“Certainly was, but hopefully now we can go on with our cruise without issue. Some of the islands we’re stopping at are just incredible.”

I take another oyster, trying it with Tabasco this time. A few drops are all I need, and it ends up tasting even better. I didn’t realize what I had been missing out on all these years. I guess there’s a reason why there are so many oyster bars on the coast.

“How many cruises have you been on?” I ask Molly as she plays with one of her ginger curls. I think I’d die for hair like hers. It’s springy, wild, and adds so much depth to her look. I probably wouldn’t appreciate getting the tangles out, but I like to imagine her hair is just magically resistant to tangling.

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