Page 29 of The Bratva Contract
“Why do you have cabbage up here?” I ask, my voice pitiful and scraped raw from being sick.
“It was meant to be a little joke. The first time we met at your father’s house you described yourself as an unwanted side of cabbage. I thought I was being a little clever and perhaps romantic.”
“Nothing says romance like making your wife puke,” I grumble, “but it was a cute gesture.”
“Cute?” he says dubiously. I shrug.
“Cute is the best I can do now. I’m trying to be nice but my head’s pounding and you saw what I just did.” Even with thefresh air pouring in from the bank of windows, I can still smell the cabbage underneath.
“Perhaps this will take your mind off the smell,” he says, handing me a leather box, long and narrow. Excitement flutters through me.
“What is this?”
“A little something I got for you,” he says, trying to sound modest but I can see he is pleased with himself. I can’t help being pleased too.
Inside is a gold bracelet with bold clusters of bright green emeralds, tiny round diamonds, and gold filigree leaves. It’s unique and flashy, and I love it at once. I hold out my arm and he fastens it around my wrist.
“Thank you,” I say. “Is this an occasion?”
“Not really, but we could make it one. Next week will be our two-month wedding anniversary, so you have until then to get me a gift,” he teases. “Unless you already have something for me.” I pause, thinking about this new pregnancy, the thing he’s wanted most from the very beginning. Somehow, I hold the secret instead of blurting it out.
I wind my arms around his neck and look up at him through my lashes. “You’ll have to give me a chance to go shopping. Tomorrow night let’s have dinner together someplace nice.” I decide that’s when I’ll tell him. I need to prepare myself for how our relationship will change, what that might look like. I’ll plan something special and share the good news. Until then, I can postpone the inevitable and have one last night with Dima.
“Very well. I’ll put that on my schedule, dinner with wife.” He gives me the slow, predatory smile I know so well.
My body answers his look with a deep pull low in my belly. He can make me wet just by staring at me that way, commanding my body to flush and open for him, and I do. I bloom under his gaze like a hothouse flower. The black silk already clings to my skin with sweat. I want him. Desire consumes me.
His big hands on my shoulders, Dima slides the narrow strap down my arm and drags his tongue along my skin where the strap had rested. My nipples tighten and my hand goes to his hair by instinct. I make my eyes stay open despite the pleasure because I love the sight of his hands on me, the dark lines tattooed on his fingers like rings, showing his status in the brotherhood, counting his kills. I push aside his shirt so I can feast my eyes on the ink carved into his chest. I trace the eight-point star and look at him, my heart in my eyes, and I wonder if he can tell. If he can look at me and see how much I missed him, how afraid I am of losing whatever we have between us. His hands sweep over my body, and I wriggle impatiently, the low pulse between my legs starts demanding action.
I have to pull away. I disentangle myself from him, walk away from the bed, and sit in a chair as though putting myself in time-out. “I have to talk to you. I went over the security data for the tech company.”
He lifts an eyebrow and waits for me to finish. He doesn’t rake a hand through his hair or pace, doesn’t act overwrought because I stopped what promised to be a very sultry experience to talk about work. I draw in a ragged breath and try to piece myself together enough to explain this.
“It looks like it’s somebody in the company, on the inside. I rescanned and the stuff I told you about, the breach and the pattern I was trying to crack based on a couple flags from the report? It’s gone. All of it. Wiped from the server. It’s not in the activity log. Whoever it is covered their tracks well. This isn’t some manager skimming money. This is the big time. The seamless way it’s done makes me nervous. Like this guy is too good and he knows I’m onto him. He slips into the system, erases the clues and then removes every trace of it, every keystroke from the logs like he’s a surgeon.”
“How would someone know to do that?”
“That part’s simple. First of all, we had a meeting for the new, united organization and announced we were implementing my programs for security. I don’t think they did it right then. It was after I told you something turned up. But at that point, if word got out that there was an irregularity in the system, anyone with something to hide would take that as a heads-up to go clean up the mess they left.”
“I summoned thebratski krug, only my most trusted inner circle. I briefed them on the findings and ordered them to investigate. They will delve into the actions of everyvor, everybrodyagi, even check the phone records of the lads who unload trucks. We will get to the bottom of this and find the traitor.” He is cold and composed as ever, but the tightness around his mouth is telling. He’s beside himself over the betrayal of a man in his bratva.
“I don’t doubt the ability of your inner circle, Dima. I’m saying one of them could be at fault. Whether they ran their mouth to the wrong guy and tipped someone off accidentally or whether the corruption goes straight to the top, I’m not sure yet. It’s not going to be one guy, in my experience. We’ll unravel a web oflies, and it will lead to a group, working against you from within. It’ll sicken you when you find out how far it goes.”
“There cannot be many people involved, and certainly none of thebratski krug. Not one of them has ever given me cause to question their loyalty. I’d stake my life on it.”
“That’s good, because you just did stake your life, my life, and the life of any child we have together,” I point out.
I watch him catch his breath when I say ‘child’. He’s been thinking in terms of the business, the money and the secrets. Not the threat to our family if a member of the organization breaks rank and betrays him.
“It won’t get that far. We track down the problem and contain it.” He says decisively. He’s pacing now, long steps eating up the floor across my room, back and forth.
“Once I have a full report, I’ll let you know,” I tell him. “I know it’s a lot, but that’s what the program is for, to weed out trouble.”
“Yes, you’re right. It’s not what I expected. I thought I’d solve the issue by upgrading equipment and making the information more secure that way. I didn’t think it would trace back to a member of the bratva. I’d say they wouldn’t dare cross me, but someone has. I’ll see that they pay for it in blood.”
You might think a pregnant woman would be squeamish about that statement, or might ask him to show mercy. I was raised in this life, and all mercy buys you in the business is an enemy who’s still walking around breathing air and plotting against you. There is no other way. If you don’t pull the weeds, my father says, then they take over the field. I don’t put a lot of faith in what my dad says, but he’s right about that one. Destroy the intruder or pay the price.
After a few minutes of watching him pace, I switch off the lamp. “I still don’t feel very good. I’m going to sleep.”
