Page 21 of Stay Toxic

He had dark, hooded eyes with the longest eyelashes I’d ever seen.

He’d been wearing a pair of dark blue jeans that fit his ass perfectly, a gray long-sleeved Henley, and a really expensive watch that I knew I saw Tibbs coveting.

And that sexy man was literally walking down the hallway, getting closer and closer and closer until it was apparent where he was going.

He was still in the jeans and gray Henley. The sleeves, however, were now pulled up to his forearms, displaying a perfectly unmarred forearm and one covered in tattoos all the way down to his wrist.

He, of course, pulled off both looks.

And generally, I wasn’t exactly attracted to tattoos—they just weren’t my thing. But on this man? They were definitely my thing.

I positioned myself in the door of my classroom, keeping my body perpendicular to the door so I could see both directions and said, “Can I help you?”

He came to a stop not too far away from me and nodded.

“I need help finding a Ms. Petrov,” he said as he took a look past me into the classroom.

I glanced toward the back of the room and saw Roslyn Petrov hunched down so far that she was trying to disappear into the hole of her hoodie.

“What about?” I asked protectively.

He smiled at me, noting the mama bear protectiveness.

“Actually, I’m just here to drop off her phone,” he said. “I know that’s not allowed, but I didn’t want to give it to the office lady and have her say that she couldn’t have it because they’re not allowed in school. I’m just here to drop it off directly to her. But I lied and said I was having lunch with her.”

My brows rose. “Are you her brother?”

He shook his head. “Godfather.”

Disbelief must’ve been all over my face when I said, “Really?”

He looked toward Roslyn, who was now very much aware of who was at the door.

She smiled at him and got up out of her chair.

“Uncle Shasha,” she said as she shouldered her backpack. “What are you doing here?”

He pulled out her phone, which was indeed very much girly and definitely not his, and handed it to her.

She squealed. “He was able to fix it?”

“Dima said the screen was easy to replace,” he answered.

“Did Dad get you to do this because he was leaving?” she asked then, losing some of her excitement.

“He’s headed down to Houston to check on a few things,” he admitted. “But Alexi said that your mom was on her way home.”

My brows rose at that.

From what I knew, Roslyn’s parents were very much divorced.

In a ‘they’ll never be happy in the same room together ever again’ kind of way.

Why did I know that?

Because at the beginning of the year last year, I’d been front row and center next to Rupert when Roslyn’s mom came in and threw a horrific stink about her father, Alexi, having access to her child’s school information.

Alexi had arrived, along with the police because Roslyn’s mother was making such a stink, and it’d just been…bad.

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