Page 68 of Sexting My Bratva Boss
My skin goes cold.
“Petrovia’s under lock and key,” I whisper.
“Exactly.I’mthe only one with access. And trust me, I got a good talking to when they assigned it to me about what would happen if anyone else were to find out about it. Which is why… I’m scared,” she admits, voice dipping into a whisper.
“And this… this couldn’t just be a mistake?”
“No. It’s too clean. Too specific.” Chrissy’s voice lowers. “I think someone’s trying to siphon off top-level numbers. Not skimming, not laundering. Just… looking. Quietly. Trying to map the structure.”
Sal.
God, it has to be Sal.
This is exactly his style—sly, slippery, one step away from implosion. If he’s already exhausted me for the fifty grand and realized he can’t use me anymore, this is how he’d creep in. By the end, before Duscha gave me up, he was starting to ask me about the Operations Room. About whether or not I had access to their files.
I didn’t, but never even got the chance to explain that. If Sal thought that was his way in, he must be digging around another way now. And the Petrovia file might get him there. It’s the one thing that tracks where all of Konstantin’s money related toviolencegoes.
There’s no other way to put it—every item in that spreadsheet has the potential to end lives. Dozens. Thousands even, if things get that bad.
Another mole. Another point of access.
I rub at my temples. “Shit.”
“Yeah,” Chrissy says. “Shit.”
“Okay. I’ll bring it up with him.”
“Who?”
I look up. “Konstantin.”
Her eyes widen. “You’re serious?”
“I said I’d tell him if anything else came up. This counts.” I glance toward the elevator. “Besides, I can tell you’re worried about it. I don’tthinkhe’d do anything to you, but… just to make sure.”
I don’t say it, but the wordshe’s protecting me nowecho quietly in the back of my mind. I wonder how much I could ask of him.I’ll give you everything—that’s what he told me the night he found out I was pregnant. Yes, it was in a post-sex haze, but… did he mean it?
As Chrissy gives me one last squeeze and disappears into the bathroom, I punch the elevator button and step inside when it dings.
The ride down is slow. Nausea twists in my stomach—not from the pregnancy, but from everything else.
I’ll tell him tonight. I have to. He said he’d stop by the house after dinner with some associates. If I’m lucky, he’ll already be in a good mood.
If I’mreallylucky, he’ll touch me again.
Maybe kiss me.
Maybe claim me the way I want him to.
I press my hand to the slight swell of my belly.
I’m beginning to realize, as I slip into the car that’ll take me home, that I might just do anything for Konstantin Martynov—leader of the Russian mafia.
Chapter 22
Konstantin
I’ve had blood on my hands since before sunrise. I didn’t flinch when Olena told me they found Yuri and Sava face-down in a meat locker on the edge of Little Italy. It was a warning—a stupid one, because you don’t leave evidence unless you want someone to come knocking. And I will. I’ll knock down every door until I find the men who have been harassing mine, whether Giuseppe Sartorre was telling the truth or not.
