Page 97 of Bratva Knight

“No problem. That was all I had to tell you anyway. Once you get the call, let me know and we’ll plan the next step.”

“Will do. Thanks Mikhail,” I said, hanging up.

I crossed my arms over my chest, staring at the room in front of me, distaste building up inside of me. I didn’t like this. Tatiana deserved a better space to work in.

I fired off a few texts to my people and turned around, intending to go back to bed. But of course, my plans never worked out the way I wanted them to.

Chapter Twenty-Eight

Tatiana Andreeva

Myeyessnappedopenthe moment Nikolai left the bed. I lay perfectly still, listening to him shuffle around the room as he put his pants on and left.

He was seriously trying to do the “hit it and quit it” onme?Oh, I was going to cut his balls off! Actually, first, I’d suck on them, because he made this deeply masculine groan whenever I did that, and it was the hottest sound I’d ever heard in my life.ThenI’d cut his balls off.

And make him eat them.

I was busy planning his death as I shoved my underwear up my legs and my arms through my tank top when I heard his voice, muffled by the door. He was talking to someone.

Ohhh, he left to answer his phone.

I laughed at myself and shook my head. Sometimes, I really did overreact.

Wait a second…who was he talking to at—my eyes sliced to the alarm clock and narrowed suspiciously—4:30 in the morning?

I slinked forward on the tips of my toes and opened the door, peeking my head out. Nikolai was slowly walking up and down the apartment as he spoke to whoever was on the other end of the phone. It was hard for me to follow the conversation since I could only hear his responses, but it was clear he was talking Bratva business.

That ball of anxiety that had started to form in my stomach disappeared. I didn’t know why I automatically went to a negative place when it came to Nikolai. He’d made it clear time and time again that there was never another woman in his life. Infidelity wasn’t his vice.

But I was as jealous and possessive as he was. So, sometimes, my mind went a little crazy with scenarios, no matter how ridiculous they might seem.

When he finished the call, I debated running back to the bed and pretending to be asleep. I wasn’t ready for what happened between us last night to end. We hadn’t spoken about it, about what it meant. I think he was avoiding the conversation because he didn’t want to hear what he knew I would say. That it was just sex. That we weren’t back together. So he didn’t bring it up, and neither did I. We just kept fucking, and fucking and fucking, refusing to talk about it and ruin the moment.

Nikolai turned and the decision to return to bed was taken away from me the moment our gazes collided. My eyes ran down that flawless form, marvelling over every curve and defined line.His body…fuck me.That solid eight-pack. The muscles. He was goddamn fucking perfect. Every single inch of him.

We stared at each other, the silence building between us, showcasing the elephant in the room. The subject we were both trying not to acknowledge.

“Did I wake you?” he asked, tucking his phone away into his grey sweats.

“It’s fine. Who were you talking to?”

“Mikhail. There’s been a development in finding my father.”

“Really? That’s great news. What kind of development?”

Nikolai moved into the kitchen and started opening cupboards in search of food. He told me all about the information they’d uncovered. The email of his father fighting. The games he was suddenly being forced to participate in. His plan to infiltrate this mysterious island under the cover of an alias.

The more he spoke, the more anxious I became. The whole thing sounded incredibly dangerous. It wasn’t that I didn’t have faith in him, or believe in him. I did. But he was going deep into the belly of the beast with no backup. If something went wrong, he had no one to help him.

He slammed the refrigerator shut and turned to face me, hands on his hips. His left pec flexed and I bit my lip. “Tatiana, where is all your food?”

“It’s in there,” I said, taking a seat on the stool in front of the kitchen island.

He exhaled in exasperation and pulled a few items out, holding them up. “Half a loaf of bread, a jar of peanut butter and some ramen noodlesis notfood.”

“Semantics,” I shrugged. I didn’t want to tell him that I could barely afford food. He’d take it upon himself to rectify the situation. The man had bought me dozens of Louboutin pairs of shoes on the remote chance it would make me happy. If he knew I was struggling to buy food, he’d end up buying me a damn grocery store or something.

“It’s great news about your father,” I said, changing the subject. Then I realised what I said and cringed. “Not the news itself. That isn’t great. I meant the fact that thereisnews. I know Illayana was freaking out because there was no news of your father anywhere. She thought he was dead. But now you know he’s alive, and that’s—”

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