Page 82 of Sexting the Bratva Beast
It isn’t me.
And Andrej fell in love with me, the clumsy inexperienced book nerd who fantasized about being fucked in a nightclub wearing cowboy boots and nothing else.
I plump up the pillows and lean back against them, pulling my knees up to my chest and hugging them tightly.
Then I wait.
And wait.
When he doesn’t come back with the champagne, I wonder if he got sidetracked by one of the security guys. It must be that.Or maybe Ivana wanted help with something. Or he decided to make food too.
I give him a little longer. He wouldn’t waste time preparing a three-course meal, and I’ve seen the kind of snacks that he likes to make.
Then I replay the conversation in my head. He definitely told me to head upstairs to the bedroom. He didn’t want me to follow him to the kitchen.
Did he?
When uneasiness starts to congeal inside my gut like cold oats, I drag my clothes back on over the top of the lingerie, slide my feet into my fluffy slippers and head back downstairs to find him.
The house is silent.
Too silent.
The walls are thick, which means that, with the doors closed, I can’t hear the crackling fires from the upstairs hallway, but it isn’t that. It feels as if the house is holding its breath, waiting for something to happen.
It’s just my imagination I tell myself as I make my way down the grand staircase. I allowed my thoughts to spiral while I was waiting for Andrej, and now they’re creating all kinds of impossible scenarios when he’s probably in the kitchen making waffles or toasting crumpets or popping corn.
I’m almost at the bottom of the staircase when I hear footsteps.
The hairs on the back of my neck stand on end, and I flatten myself against the stairs, heart thudding dully behind my ribs until they recede.
What the fuck is wrong with me?
Bodyguards have been crawling all over this place since I arrived, so why are they freaking me out now.
I haul myself upright, legs shaking from the adrenaline pumping through my veins, and keep on moving. It’s impossible for anyone to get past the guards posted around the perimeter. And if there was something wrong, they’d have informed Andrej immediately so that he could handle the situation before it went too far.
I can’t believe I’m thinking about enemy intruders, but I guess this is what I signed up for when I slid that engagement ring onto my finger.
Only when I reach the bottom of the stairs, the first thing I realize is that there’s no bodyguard posted at the other end of the hallway.
Maybe now is the time to panic.
Something must’ve happened outside, and Andrej took control.
My mouth is dry. My legs have turned to jelly. I’m about to turn around and head back upstairs to the safety of the bedroom when a disturbing sound cracks open the heavy silence.
My ears ring with the shockwaves.
Was that a gunshot?
I’ve never heard one before. Not in real life. Only in the movies.
But whatever it was, my brain-leg coordination has fallen to pieces, and I’m rooted to the spot. Numb. Waiting for the world to correct itself again and keep on moving in the right direction. One that I can understand.
Only, the world is suddenly way off-kilter, and I’ve no idea what the hell is going on, and when more gunfire rings out, I let out a strangled yelp before I can stop myself.
I cover my mouth with my hands.
