Page 15 of Untamed

Rafail

All I see is my wife when I look at him, but I couldn’t be more proud

Semyon

Lucky him. That could’ve worked out pretty fucking bad for him

Give it time. Still might get his daddy’s take-no-prisoners attitude and chip on the shoulder. Too soon to tell

We ease from conversation about the baby to our sisters. Yana’s in Cape Town with her husband Danila, Zoya’s started her first year at university, Grandfather’s taken up golf despite pushing eighty-two, and my uncle and aunt have taken what Rafail calls a “much-needed vacation to the Mediterranean.” In other words, he wanted them out of his fucking hair.

I miss my family. I miss home. I miss my little sister Zoya’s cooking and Rafail’s hardass ways. I miss lifting with Semyon and drinking vodka with Matvei.

I will not fuck this up.

Guilt plagues me. If they knew what I did… that I put myself out there for the whole world to see… that I was flirting with an influencer and using my identity as Bratva to take advantage of the situation…

But no. No one can really tell I’m Bratva, unless they know the meaning of my tats.

I have to delete this account. It’s stupid as fuck, and logical, sober me in the light of day, realizes what an idiotic thing I’ve done.

I have to delete this before anyone finds out.

But it’s my only link to her.

I head to the shower when my phone buzzes again. I pick it up to see what one of my brothers forgot to tell me when I see… it isn’t a text notification.

I frown. I thought I shut off notifications to my account, which is growing by leaps and bounds. It’s only been a week, and I already have tens of thousands of followers. My video with the belt and the goddamn pillows has over 2.5 million views already.

What can I say? The dopamine hit is real.

And so’s my growing attraction to Ember.

I frown at my phone. If she were mine, I’d punish the shit out of her for making her real name so easy to find. Rookie mistake, maybe. But what if some asshole decided to stalk her?

I stroke my chin.

Not a bad idea, really?—

God. I can’t do this. I CANNOT.

The little notification begs to me on-screen. I shake my head.

I won’t do it. I can’t. I’m a grown man, for Christ’s sake, not some teen who needs the online fawning of thirsty women to stroke his fucking ego. My finger hovers over the button that readsdelete account.

It’s the right thing to do.

I shouldn’t be here. It’s dangerous and reckless and juvenile as fuck.

Still, before I go… I could take one more peek at those gorgeous green eyes of hers. Just one more before I shut this shit down for good and do something responsible with my life.

I walk to the kitchenette in the penthouse as if doing something practical with my time will somehow make it all better and erase my guilt.

Coffee. I need coffee.

I catch a glimpse of myself in the microwave reflection. My hair’s askew, but just yesterday, I saw a video of a guy making coffee in boxers, and the women went wild. If I?—

No.

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