Page 13 of Caught By the Bratva Beast

She would never have to work another day in her life going out with rich men like Noah Hearst.

“Alright.” I take another sip of the wine, holding her attention captive. “If you don't live in a hole, you don't want me to see your apartment, and you don't want to speak about your family, what will you talk about?”

“Have you considered the problem as you haven't found anything I'm interested in talking about?”

“I spoke about taking you to Japan. You seemed interested in that.”

“To be honest, Japan is on the list of places I wish to travel to, but it's not the most important. I thought so many times about exploring Egypt. Climbing Machu Picchu. Just doing something to get away from my everyday life in New York.”

“What about Russia?” I ask. An idea sparking alive in my head.

“You want to take me to Russia?” she asks, her tone filled with disbelief, her lips parting slightly. “Why would you want to take me to Russia?”

“If you will not tell me anything about yourself in this city, perhaps you will in another.”

She lights up with delight, looking like a kid on Christmas morning who's just gotten everything they've ever wanted. However, when she opens her mouth to speak, no sound comes out.

Pearl is saved from having to answer when the waiter returns with the second bottle of white wine.

“Good evening, I'm Thomas and I'll be your server for this evening. Is there anything I can get the two of you to start your meal? Have you had a chance to look over the menu and decide what you would like for your mains?”

Pearl closes her menu, twisting her body so she faces him. “I've heard the lobster ravioli with the lemon and chive cream sauce is to die for. I'd like that please.”

I put my menu down in front of me. “Steak frites for me. And you would do well to keep your eyes off her chest. I haven't made it a problem yet, but if you continue to stare at my lady, it will be.”

Thomas takes the menus and nods, his cheeks flooding a deep scarlet. “I'm sorry, I didn't mean any harm. To be honest, I didn't realize.”

“Don’t you know it is rude to stare at a woman?” My hands curl into fists.

I may not want to start a scene in my favorite restaurant, but if the waiter doesn’t get out of my sight in the next two minutes, he’s going to find himself on the ground with a broken nose.

Pearl turns back to me. “Maxim, you don't have to scold him. It's fine.”

“No, it's not fine. He's staring at you like a prize to be won when you're here with me. I can tell you this right now, Pearl. I'm not a man who shares.”

Thomas takes a step back. “Is there anything you like for an appetizer?”

“Scallops, please,” she says. She uses that warm and friendly tone that could make anyone think they are her best friend. As she speaks, she glares at me at the same time.

The waiter nods and hurries away with the menus tucked beneath one arm.

“You're acting like a caveman.”

“No. I'm acting like a man who's here on a date with you who doesn't want other men to be staring at his stunning and intelligent woman. Not the way he was staring at you, at least.

“All men stare at me as if I'm a prize. Comes in useful in my line of business.”

“I thought you were between jobs.”

And here it is, the moment where she tells me the truth about who she is. Where she stops hiding the fact that she's an escort. This is the moment where there's going to be a crack in that little mask and I'm going to get to see beneath the stained armor she wears.

“The business of getting a free meal from a rich man.” She smirks and leans back in her seat, crossing one leg over the other, drawing my eyes down to the slit that climbs high on her thigh.

I could bend her over the table right now and shove that slit up. I’d sink into her, showing that waiter that she's not here for him. Pearl would be screaming my name in moments, begging for more, even in a crowded restaurant.

From this moment on, she's mine, whether she knows it or not.

“There you go again,” I say, trying to match the teasing tone she's had all night. It's foreign to me. I'm used to dealing with blunt and truth. Not playing games, dancing back and forth, trying to figure out who has the upper hand at any given moment. “You're dodging the subject. If you don't want to talk about yourself. Are you going to give me an answer about Russia?”

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