Page 8 of Hating the Bratva

Bunny. I'm not sure where the nickname came from, but it always sounds so good rolling off his tongue.

“The walls are thin in my house.”

He laughs. “I doubt that.”

“Well, it's not like anybody tells me anything.”

“Because you aren't supposed to know anything,” he argues.

“Why the hell not? Don't you think I should know about what's going on with the people I love?”

He shifts gears as we turn onto another road that leads up a steep hill.

“Sometimes, not knowing is safer.”

“Bullshit,” I mumble, turning to watch the trees pass by. They thicken the higher we rise.

I look in the side mirror to see there are no cars behind us. After a few minutes, the trees clear. In front of me is a mansion similar to what I pictured in my head. It reminds me of a modern-day castle. Whitestone brick surrounds the outside. A connected three-car garage is just to the left of the house. Alek pulls around the circle drive and shifts the car into park.

“Holy shit.”

“Nice, isn't it?”

All I can do is nod. Alek gets out of the car, and I follow behind him. We walk through the tall wooden double doors and step into a foyer. I can barely tell it's a foyer because white sheets are hanging all over the place. A thin layer of dust coats every inch of the entrance, but even in the chaos, I can see the potential.

“The house was vacant for a long time. The original owner went to a nursing home, and he wouldn't let his family sell it until he died.”

“This is amazing,” I say.

He gives me one of those half-smiles, and those piercing green eyes momentarily catch me off guard.

“Come on. I'll show you the rest of the house. Watch your step.”

I follow behind him, taking in the original charm that the home still holds. He leads me to the kitchen area that is pretty much destroyed besides one small place Alek has designated for his coffee. He stands next to what I assume will be the island. It's covered by one of those white sheets. He grabs two pieces of tile and holds them up.

“They're putting in flooring in the next few weeks. I've narrowed it down to these two.”

I can't imagine a man like Alek cares about the tile that goes on his kitchen floor, but I find it cute that he made an effort. I grab them from his hand. One is a plain cream color, and the other has a checkered design. I hold up the cream-colored one.

“This one. I don't want to get dizzy from looking at the floor.” The words slip out of my mouth before I can catch them. I'm making assumptions that I have no business making. Alek steps closer to me. His clean, woodsy scent fills my nostrils, and I swallow. He plucks the tile from my hand.

“Cream it is.”

The butterflies are back in my stomach when he says the word cream. Get your mind out of the gutter, Delaney. All he asked was what color tile I prefer. He reaches across me, so close that I'd bump into him if I moved. From behind me, he grabs a few samples of the backsplash.

“I like the silver,” he says.

I take them from his hand, relieved to have something else to concentrate on.

“I agree. I like silver.”

He nods, and his tongue darts out to lick his bottom lip. The movement is like a direct line to my libido. I need to get it together. I'm acting as I've never been alone in a house with a man before, although I haven't, besides my family.

“I'll let the designer know.”

He walks toward the big glass doors that take up the entire wall of the kitchen. I put the samples down and follow him. He opens the doors and steps outside. As expected, the yard is gigantic. The lawn is perfectly mowed, and it seems to stretch on for miles.

“I'm having a pool installed over there,” he says, pointing to the side of the yard. “There will be a jacuzzi next to it, but I want to leave the rest of the space open.”

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