Page 23 of Hating the Bratva

“In Russia.”

“Cold.”

I roll my eyes. “Seriously.”

He takes a drink of his water before rolling the straw wrapper between his fingers. “There’s not much to tell. Vladimir and I grew up in the same neighborhood. We were poor, and the Bratva took care of us. We both decided going to America was the only way out. I immediately joined the Bratva and started making money. Vladimir tried to take the straight and narrow path, but he got tangled up.”

“Vladimir?” I ask. I know most of the Bratva members, at least the ones that live in Boston, but there are a few I haven’t met.

“He goes by V. You’ll meet him at some point.”

The waitress comes back and sets the chips and salsa in front of us. “Are you ready to order?”

Shit, I hadn’t even opened my menu. Before I can apologize and ask for more time, Alek grabs my menu and sets it on top of his.

“Two orders of the chicken enchiladas, and cheese dip for the table.”

“Not a problem. I’ll be right back,” she says before rushing off again.

“What if I don’t like enchiladas?”

“Do you like enchiladas?” he asks.

“Yeah, but you assumed.”

His face doesn’t change as he takes another drink of his water. I feel completely naked when he stares at me like this. It’s like he can see into my soul, like all of my truth is laid out on the table for him.

“Are you going to school tomorrow?” he asks, changing the subject.

I nod. “Yeah, I have one more final before the break.”

My phone vibrates in my purse. I pull it out to see a text from an unknown number.

I made dinner reservations for tomorrow. I’ll pick you up at seven. -Ivan

I read the message twice before looking up at Alek, who is looking at me with a blank expression.

“Did you give him my number?” I ask. It could have been my dad or Gavril, but Alek’s the one who’s sitting in front of me.

His jaw twitches. “Yes.”

I shove my phone back in my purse. “Great.”

“What did he say?”

“Apparently, we have dinner reservations tomorrow. I can’t wait,” I say with a huff.

His features darken, and he looks away from me out to the street.

“Are you alright?” I ask after a moment of complete silence.

He doesn’t look at me when he answers, “I’m fine.”

We don’t say another word to each other until our food comes. I moan as I take the first bite of my enchiladas.

Alek chuckles as if he’s completely forgotten the little moment we just had. “I told you.”

I wave him off as I savor every bite. I hate to admit it, but this is the best Mexican food I’ve ever had. After dinner, Alek drives us back, and I awkwardly said goodnight before heading up to the guest bedroom.

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