Page 60 of Sexting the Bratva Beast
“She adds another layer of protection. Ivana is good at what she does.”
“Which is?” There’s a brittle edge to her voice that I want to smooth away with my tongue.
“She’s an enforcer. She and her twin sister, Tamara?—”
“There are two of them?” Cartier glances towards the back of the house, and I follow her gaze.
Ivana is no longer there.
“My brother…” I hesitate.
This isn’t my story to tell, and I don’t want Cartier to think that I condone Ivana rocking up at my apartment one morning to impart her friendly warning about my playboy-past.
“Leonid taught them everything they know. He trusts them with his life, and I do the same.”
“Well, maybe he’d feel differently if Ivana had warned Gianna to stay away from him.”
I think back to a conversation in my brother’s home when Gianna first came back to Chicago and was in his custody.
Drugging the women we’re attracted to seems to run in the family. Leonid had Gianna abducted from her Montenegro to Chicago flight. She was leverage. A mafia printzessa to be used in the war against the Sicilians. His intentions were less than honorable: steal her innocence and destroy her arranged marriage to the Irish mafia boss, creating an opening for him to sneak in and overthrow the Amory family.
Only he hadn’t made allowances for having his own heart captured by the printzessa.
It was obvious from the start that he had feelings for Gianna. And I wasn’t the only person who wanted to tear it down before it became the chink in Leonid Ivanov’s armor.
Tamara had her own reasons for wanting to come between my brother and the printzessa, and she used Elena to achieve her goal. She told Gianna that Leonid had cheated on his fiancée. I can still recall the hurt in Gianna’s eyes. I can still hear my own voice rubbing salt in the wound, telling her how beautiful Elena was, how besotted with my brother, how broken she was when she called off the engagement.
All lies. Elena was the one who cheated on Leonid.
Not my finest moment. Not something that I’m proud of either.
But love won in the end, no thanks to me or Tamara.
“Come with me.” I squeeze Cartier’s hand and pull her towards the house.
“Where are we going?”
“To resolve this situation.”
I might not like what Ivana has to say, but for the first time ever, I’m putting someone else’s feelings above my own. I don’t want Cartier to feel intimidated by Ivana. I don’t want her to feel unsettled in my family home. And I’m no fucking coward. I’ll own my past mistakes, and then I’ll dust them off and prove to Cartier that she has nothing to fear from me.
Even if it’s the last thing I do.
“Andrej, I don’t want to cause trouble.” She drags a pace behind me, tiny frown lines appearing between her brows.
I stop and fold her into my arms. “None of this is your fault, baby.” I catch a snowflake as it settles on her rosy cheek. “You’re the most important thing in my life right now, and if Ivana doesn’t like it, then she can go back to Chicago.”
She peers up at me, and with the snow settling all around us, it flashes into my head that we could stay here. Together. Build a cocoon around ourselves, forget about the rest of the world. Dismiss family feuds and Bratva politics and assholes who think it’s their God-given right to invade a woman’s personal space.
Just the two of us.
My pulse is racing. I can feel the blood pumping around my veins and setting my cheeks on fire. I’ve never questioned my life before. When you’re born into the Bratva, you accept your role, and you live by the motto ‘family first’.
But here I am contemplating a life with Cartier that is so far removed from reality that it reads like one of those pastel-covered novels that I know she enjoys reading.
“Andrej?”
I’m jolted back to the present by Cartier’s voice. What did I miss?
