Page 2 of Bratva Baby

“That’s the question, isn’t it? Sometimes, a man’s arrogance gets the better of him. Other times, it’s a setup.”

He doesn’t break my stare. “You and I haven’t done business in a while, Barkov. The last time we spoke, we decided to go our separate ways because our goals didn’t align.” He shrugs, forcing a note of calm into his tone. “I wouldn’t see a reason to kill one of your associates unless I wanted a war.”

“And do you want one?”

His eyes thin. “Of course not. When our paths diverged, I wasn’t happy, but that doesn’t mean I’d commit suicide by going after your people. You know better than that.”

I weigh his words. He’s not wrong; launching an attack on someone so close to us is a dangerous gamble, especially if he leaves evidence pointing directly at himself. But men have made bigger mistakes under the sway of pride or desperation.

“You’ll come and talk to my brothers and me,” I declare. “We’ll set a time. You’ll explain what you know, and we’ll decide if you walk away from this.”

“I can do that. Name the time and place.”

“Tomorrow. We have a location in Queens. I’ll text the address to your staff.”

Annoyance crosses his features at my dictating the arrangement, but he doesn’t protest. That tells me he’s either innocent or trying to appear so. Thorne gestures for me to follow him back toward the foyer.

“Of course. I’ll be there. I have nothing to hide.”

We reach the living room, where I notice two of his guards now standing by. They stare at me with barely masked hostility, but nobody says a word. Thorne’s posture remains guarded. I can almost see the gears turning in his head as he calculates his next steps.

I glance around, making sure no unwanted ears are eavesdropping. “If I find out you had anything to do with Pavel’s death, you’ll regret it.”

“I understand.”

I turn on my heels, leaving him to stew as I make for the exit. Part of me wants to do a full sweep of this place, see if there’s any sign of a hidden weapon or a direct link to the murder. But I doubt he’d leave something so incriminating in plain view. I settle for a vague threat: he knows I’m watching him now.

Just as I pass beneath an arch leading back toward the entrance, I sense movement from a side hallway. I pause, glancing out of the corner of my eye. A figure steps into view,seemingly in a rush. I consider ignoring it, but curiosity gets me, and I turn to track it.

That’s when she collides with me.

She’s not tall—her forehead barely reaches my collarbone. She stumbles, then snaps her head up, and I’m met with bright blue eyes framed by long black hair that tumbles well below her shoulders. There’s a moment where her gaze meets mine and my lungs hitch. It only lasts an instant, but in that fleeting heartbeat, she steals the air from my lungs and the thoughts from my brain.

She mutters under her breath, then notices my suit and my stance, and apparently makes her own assumptions. “You,” she hisses, stepping back. “Watch where you’re going.”

A biting remark forms in my head, but I hold back. I notice her clothes are casual, a simple top and jeans, and she’s clutching a small backpack like she’s been somewhere she shouldn’t.

She’s about to walk past me when she freezes, eyeing me more carefully. Then she sets her jaw, evidently deciding she doesn’t care who I might be. “Did my father hire you recently?” Her tone suggests I’m beneath her. “Haven’t seen you around before.”

I stand there, watching her. The directness of her question is jarring, especially given the circumstances.

This must be a family member, most likely the daughter I’ve heard rumors about: Seraphina Thorne. I never bothered to confirm names or faces because Thorne’s private life didn’t concern me. She has a fire in her eyes and a body that stirs a carnal desire in my blood.

She plants a hand on her hip and repeats, “Are you new here? Listen, I’m not supposed to be coming in at this hour. If you know what’s good for you, you’ll keep your mouth shut about seeing me.”

My eyebrows lift at her boldness. She has no idea who I am. She’s half my age, with a glare that challenges me to speak up, and her posture hints she’s ready for a fight—or at least a confrontation.

“Just pretend this little run-in never happened. If my father finds out I was out all night…” She trails off, letting the implication hover.

I glance back down the hallway. Evan Thorne might wander into view any moment, which could get messy for me, for her, for both of us. “You’re—” I start to say, but she cuts me off.

“Don’t talk. I’ll pay you if that’s what it takes. Or I’ll make a scene right here, right now. Tell my dad you tried something slick.”

Well, this is new. Usually, the women around these families wilt under intimidation or authority. They know their place. She obviously doesn’t realize she’s messing with the second-in-command of the Barkov Bratva.

Her hair falls over one shoulder, silky and dark, and something about her bright eyes has my attention. She’s undeniably attractive, but the brashness in her attitude is what really stands out.

She rolls those striking eyes. “If you so much as whisper my name to my father, I’ll—”

---