Page 11 of Knocked-up Bratva Bride
His deep voice came smoothly through the speakers, and I heard the low rumble in his chest, vibrating with his usual hint of playfulness that suggested he was in on a secret joke.
When we were much younger and spent more time in the same company—I’d rather drink vinegar than admit it—the idiot was one of the few people I could stand listening to for more than an hour.
“Mat.Ty zvonish’ tol’ko togda, kogda ya tebe nuzhen.”
You only call when you think I’ll be useful to you.
“What can I say to that?” He laughed because we both knew it was true. “Today, though, I’m thinking Icouldbe useful to you. Word has it that you’re back.”
My eyes did a full three-sixty. “ThePahkan’sSovietnikhas a way of spreading word faster than the boss himself. The entirety of the brotherhood knows already, correct?”
“It’s not a bad thing.” He chuckled. “We’re glad for the news. Our excitement is over the roof and that is why I’m inviting you over to the Gipsy tonight. Drinks on the house.Yourhouse, technically.”
“I trust you’ve kept the place in good shape and have been managing just fine.”
“You know I have, Damie. Coming around to have a look at the place yourself will do you some good. You’ll see I practically raised it from the rubble you left behind when you ran off to Moscow,” he bragged.
I clenched my jaw.
My first thought was to say no.
Something about not meeting Katya in the house and the sudden memory of her mother rubbed off on me the wrong way. I needed a drink, but alone, within these four walls, away from the noise, blinding lights, and smoke curling in the air.
“Don’t overthink it,” Matvey urged over the phone. “We need you around.”
The shrouding thoughts resurfaced, but as I said, there was something about Matvey. Sometimes, he called it a gift, but I called it a skill. He didn’t need to exert effort to persuade anyone; people leaned in to him naturally.
To his credit, he was like the force of a magnet, and right now, he had successfully pulled me.
So, I listened to him; I didn’t overthink. And with Fedor supervising the men, not much was left for me to handle tonight.
I exhaled slowly. “The next time you say Iranoff to Moscow, I promise, I’ll break your fucking fingers.”
Chapter 4 – Elena
“You’re sure I look fine?”
Kat shut the door with a groan, rounded the car’s bumper, and came toward me. The car beeped as the headlights flashed and dimmed. She grabbed my hands, blew out an exasperated huff, and did a classic over-the-shoulder hair whip before smacking her lips together.
“For the hundredth time, Lena, you don’t look just fine; you’resmokinghot. But honestly, that blazer keeps the marketing executive touch.”
It was a beige blazer I’d insisted on wearing over my lace corset top and mini leather skirt when I thought the whole world would see myessentialsif I didn’t cover up. I’d opted to keep my makeup simple, with a glossy shimmer, and finished up the look with a black pair of strappy heels.
I chewed on my lower lip, and Kat was visibly stressed out with the smudge I was sure I’d made on the glossy dark liner.
“So, it’s not so good?”
“Did you hear a word I just said?”
Her blue eyes flashed with mild annoyance, and I mimicked Jasper’s cute pout. “I’m sorry. I promise, I’m not trying to wear you out. It’s just….” I did a quick scan on her outfit and swallowed down on the familiar twinge forming like a lump in my chest.
Ten out of ten times, Kat always nailed her looks. Tonight was no exception. She wore a vibrant pair of high-waist bell-bottom denim pants with a halter crop top that had only ropes barely holding the fabric together from behind. Her hair fell below her shoulders like a waterfall of shiny black ink, and she topped her look with smoky makeup, which, in my opinion, was fire.
“You look delectable, Kat. You always do,” I breathed, partially pissed at myself for letting my insecurities mess with my thoughts.
A second passed before she lit up with a smile and gave a dramatic eye roll.
“The second you walk into that building, heads are going to turn. Take my word for it. Come on, let’s go. And before you start fretting, don’t worry, we won’t have to pay to get in.” She visibly hesitated. “My father owns the place.”
