Page 10 of Sexting the Bratva Beast
My stomach flips like a pancake.Seriously?
“He got her to the Emergency Room, made sure that she was okay, and sent flowers the next day.”
She makes him sound like some kind of superhero.
“Are you sure it was him and not his brother?”
“Positive. My friend is married now. When her baby boy was born, he sent more flowers,and,” the speaker pauses for dramatic effect, “he sends a food hamper to her home every holiday.”
“There you are, Car.” Mika’s voice catches me unawares, and my phone slips from my fingers, bouncing across the carpet. “I’ve been trying to untangle myself from an octopus in a suit for the last fifteen minutes. Where were you when I needed you, huh?”
She grabs my arm, Mika-style, and drags me through the kitchen and outside where several guests are wandering around the garden and staring at the back of the house.
“Did you speak to him?”
“Who?” My hot face is a dead giveaway, but I’m running with naivety for now.
“Andrej Ivanov!” She furrows her brow. “He’s only here because of you. You do realize that, right?”
“I don’t know what you mean.” The butterflies inside my chest seem to have a fairly accurate understanding of the situation though. But I need time to process what I overheard.
“Oh no you don’t, girlie. This innocent act might’ve worked in the past, but I’m not letting you get away with it this time. That man has the hots for you, and I’m going to make damned sure that you don’t let him slip through those overworked neglected fingers of yours.”
When Mika is on a mission, I’ve always found that the only option is to deny, deny, deny. “He doesn’t.”
She blinks her long perfect lashes at me. “Car, you’d have to have been living under a rock for the last gazillion years not to notice it. He told me so, himself.”
“He told you that he has the hots for me?”
Those damned butterflies are already clinging to every word and turning them into their own version of the truth. I should stomp on this fire before it gets out of control because there’s only one person getting hurt in this situation, and it isn’t the guy with the scar on his top lip. Although, I wonder how he got it…
“Not in so many words, but I’m a pro when it comes to hot men and pheromones, and that guy has got it bad.”
And for one fleeting moment, I make the rookie mistake of allowing myself to believe it.Why?Only because he’s probably the most gorgeous man to ever grace this planet with his presence. But then, reality comes rushing back with a club-wielding vengeance, and I remember that he already left with another woman.
I shake my head. The barriers are still there, barely. “Too late. I saw him leave with someone else.”
“When?” Her eyes instinctively snap towards the back of the house. “I just spoke to him, and he was very much alone. Why do you think I’m giving you this pep talk, huh?”
“You spoke to him?”
Hope soars through my veins, forgetting that two seconds ago I’d convinced myself that he was a player looking to add another conquest to his already substantial tally.
“That’s it.” Mika places her hands on my shoulders, turns me around, and gives me a gentle shove back in the direction of the house. “Go get him, Car. Live a little.”
But once inside, the mayor wants to chat some more about the shelter. Then a reporter traps me into giving a brief interview about Gianna’s vision for the future. I glimpse Andrej wandering around while I’m answering questions about a typical day in the life of Cartier Black for another journalist. Each time his eyes meet mine, I get a jolt of something –excitement, anticipation, fear?– down my spine.
By the time the interview is over, the guest numbers are dwindling, and there’s no sign of Andrej. I’m disappointed but resigned to it being for the best. But when Mika and I step outside after the last guest has left and we’ve finished clearing up, he’s there, waiting on the top step, leaning casually against the low wall.
His eyes meet mine, and my pulse starts racing.
“Seeya.” Mika waves as she practically flies down the steps and sprints along the sidewalk without a glance over her shoulder.
“Ready?” He pushes himself off the wall.
“For what?”Pizza? A vodka soda? To go to his apartment and lie back on his gigantic bed while he ravishes my body?
“Your guided tour. I promised to show you around, and you should know, I always keep a promise.”
