Page 41 of Sexting the Bratva Beast
I shake my head. “No, that isn’t it.”
I don’t know why she was trying to get rid of me, but I don’t think it was down to jealousy. That would require passion, and the woman with the green flicks on her eyelids didn’t strike me as the passionate kind.
Mika propels herself off the desk and straightens. “Well, if you want my advice, don’t let her get to you. I’ve never seen you so … sexually aroused before.” Her eyebrows dance.
My cheeks grow hot. Mika, Gianna, and I have been through a lot together. We’ve held each other’s hair back while we’ve been sick. We’ve been out for greasy breakfasts when we’re hungover. We’ve even discussed the physical attributes of the Hemsworth brothers in extremely sordid detail while utterly sober.
But it doesn’t stop me from blushing.
“Oh my god, does it show?” I peer down at my pants, praying that they’re dry between my legs. They are.
But the reaction isn’t lost on Mika, who dissolves into raucous giggles.
“Lucky bitch,” she mutters as I follow her out of the room.
10
ANDREJ
I’m buzzingwhen I walk up the steps to the front door of the women’s shelter.
I hide behind the huge bunch of flowers that I’m holding and peek around them when the door opens. Mika eyes them suspiciously.
“Are these an apology or are you trying to impress her?” she asks.
“Neither.” Then I realize what she said. “An apology for what?”
“You tell me.” She blocks the doorway, and I find myself scanning the hallway behind her for a glimpse of honey-blonde hair.
“Cartier told you about the nightclub?”
“No, what about the nightclub?” Mika jumps on the question like I just confessed to blowing the place up.
“Are you going to let me in?”
She relents, stepping aside and opening the door wide.
When we’re both standing in the hallway with the front door closed, I try again. “What should I apologize for?”
Mika holds my gaze like she’s figuring out if this is an act. Then, “You don’t know, do you?”
“Know what?”
I’m not a patient man, and right now, I could rip someone apart with my bare hands and keep these flowers intact. If something has happened to Cartier…
“Probably best if Cartier tells you herself.” Mika gestures towards the back of the house. “You’ll find her in the kitchen.”
I don’t wait around.
I didn’t want to leave Cartier in my bed this morning. For the first time in my life, work was an inconvenience that I’d have easily swapped for a day spent watching her come all over my face. Notes on the nightstand are not my style. I left my car and driver in the parking lot at her disposal, but maybe I should’ve woken her up before I left.
Fuck!
I’ve never had to think about this kind of thing before. I’ve never had to consider anyone else’s feelings. I’ve always done whatever I wanted to do, whenever I wanted to do it. Pleased myself. Now, walking through the house with a bunch of flowers that made me think of Cartier when I saw them, I make a mental note to put myself in her shoes in future.
Cartier is filling a basket with sweet pastries, coffee brewing on the counter when I find her, filled paninis arranged on a tray.
For a few precious moments, I have her all to myself, watching her with her back to me while she’s oblivious to my presence. My gaze sweeps the curve of her ass, her waist where it dips in, the thick honey-colored curls tumbling down her back.
