Page 15 of Escaping the Bratva

I don't know how many times I can explain to her that I enjoy working. My employees are like my family. I feel good when I’m working, in control. I’m living my life exactly how I want to.

“You need a boyfriend,” she proclaims.

“I’ve had boyfriends.” None that I decided were serious enough to introduce Nana to, but they still count. Most of them couldn’t deal with my work schedule, or they were pushovers. There was no in-between. It's like if I finally found someone that was okay with my work schedule, I realized they were only okay with it because they were desperate to be with me. If I asked them to jump, they’d ask how high. I needed a partner, not a dog.

Where did that thought come from? I don’t need a partner at all.

I hear chatter on the other end of the line before Nana comes back. “I got to go. Mrs. Hellburt needs help folding up her pool.”

I open my mouth to tell her she shouldn’t be folding up a pool at her age, but the line goes dead. That woman. I turn on my computer, but before it loads, a knock sounds at the door.

“Come in,” I say. Haley walks in with a bouquet of beautiful purple flowers.

“These just came for you,” she says as she places the vase on my desk. I notice bags of skittles stuck between the flowers and I instantly know who they’re from.

“Who are they from?” Haley asks eagerly.

I sigh. “An old friend.”

She accepts my answer and leaves me alone in the office staring at the flowers. A white card peeks out from the side and I grab it.

Dinner at Cusomanos at 8.

His handwriting is fast and rough. I rip up the small white card and throw it in the trash. There’s no way I’m meeting him for dinner. He can’t seriously just get out of prison and expect that I’m going to jump into a relationship with him. The man is delusional. I’ve spent years building a life for myself, and I’m not going to throw it away for him.

I look at the vase of flowers, and I can’t help but pick out a bag of skittles. I rip it open and pop one in my mouth.

*****

I get home at seven thirty and set my gym bag down in the entryway. I’m signed up for a Pilates class at the gym down the street from my office. I try to go at least a couple days a week to work out some of my stress, but today was more like a celebration. I was able to secure Blue State Realty as a customer. They were impressed by the presentation, and our lawyers are working on the contracts. This is huge. I kick my shoes off and get into the shower. I change into a pair of pajamas and throw my damp hair in a bun. A knock sounds at the front door. What the hell? No one ever knocks on my door besides delivery people, and I haven’t ordered anything. I walk to the door and stand on my tiptoes to look out the peephole.

V stands there with a stupid grin on his face and a brown paper bag in his hand. Fuck. I’ve successfully been able to stop thinking about him for the last half of the day. I even forgot about the flowers he gave me. I glance at the clock hanging in the hallway. Eight o’clock exactly. He knew I wasn’t going to show up for dinner so he’s bombarding me at my apartment.

“Come on. I know you have to be hungry,” he says from the other side of the door. As if on cue, my stomach rumbles. I haven’t eaten since lunch today, and I probably burned a good amount of calories during my Pilates workout.

I unlock and open the door. “You knew I wouldn’t come to dinner, didn’t you?”

He chuckles. “Of course I did. You’re still stubborn as fuck. Now, are you going to let me in, or do I have to eat this in your hallway?”

I open the door wider and step out of the way so he can walk inside. He goes straight to my kitchen and places the big brown bag down on the table and starts unloading it. I close the front door and follow behind him.

“Do you always come home this late?” he asks.

“There’s not much to come home to, so I'd rather stay at work.” The truth of my words surprise me, but V doesn’t seem to mind.

“I got you ravioli. I hope that’s okay.”

That actually sounds amazing right now, but I’ll never admit that to him. He doesn’t seem to mind as he sets the box in front of the chair to the left of him before sitting with his own food. I guess I’m not getting rid of him that easily. Defeated, I sit down beside him, hyper-aware of our close proximity. Up close, I can see he’s just as handsome as he was in college. I inhale his strong cologne. Everything about him is intoxicating. Since he came all the way over here just to feed me, I should at least hear him out, even if we have zero chances of getting back together.

I open the plain white box and take a bite of the ravioli. Cusamanos has the best Italian food. I let out a small moan as the flavors explode in my mouth.

V raises an eyebrow. “If I’d known that all I had to do was bring you food to make you moan…”

I flip him off, and he laughs before taking a bite of his spaghetti. He eats fast, as if someone might try to take his plate away any second. The room is quiet besides the sound of us both eating. It's such a strange feeling to be eating at my table with him, almost like I’m in some sort of alternate universe.

I take my last bite and wipe at my mouth. “Now that you’ve fed me, be honest. Why are you here?”

He takes a sip of his canned soda and leans back in the chair. He spreads his legs as if completely comfortable in my home. I’m aware that his legs are only inches away from mine.

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