Page 45 of Sexting the Bratva Beast
“Cat?” I turn my phone over to hide the screen and focus on Mika.
“Yeah, I might’ve, kinda, adopted a stray cat that’s been coming to the back door for food.”
“Since when?”
“Oh—” Mika flaps a hand, balancing the sheets on one arm “—since a few weeks ago.”
“Mika! You never said.”
“There was nothing to tell. But I might’ve accidentally picked up a basket for her to sleep in this morning.” She flashes me a smile that says it’s too late to do anything about it now. “And your distraction didn’t work. I still want to know why you’re frowning when you should be basking in the afterglow of multiple orgasms.”
Heat flares in my cheeks, and I widen my eyes at her. “Shh. Keep your voice down.”
“It’s okay, the cat’s asleep.” She perches on the edge of the desk still holding the laundry. “What’s he done? Besides show you what you’ve been missing.”
“What makes you think he’s done anything?” I ignore the second comment.
“Oh, let me see.” She places a finger on her lips and stares into space. “He arrives with flowers and bruised knuckles, and now you’re staring at your phone like a love-sick teenager. Need I go on?”
I slump back in my seat. She’s right. I haven’t stressed over a guy not texting me since I was sixteen. That time, the first boy I ever really liked had been avoiding me while he cozied up with another girl in the same grade called Sheena Hoxton.
I don’t want to be that person.
But I can’t help thinking that something is off since he saw Elena.
“He’s not replying to my messages.”
“And you’re worried about this, why?” Mika’s eyebrows practically disappear.
“He knows Elena.”
I fill her in on what happened in the kitchen earlier.
When I’m done, Mika stands up, inhales deeply, and releases a huge sigh. “Girl, you’ve got it bad. The guy is besotted with you, so I don’t understand the problem.”
Before I can respond, someone arrives at the front door, the sound ringing inside the office.
“I’ll go.” I’m already up and out of my seat. I’ll take any distraction from my phone right now because despite Mika’s encouragement, I still sense that something is off kilter.
The man waiting on the top step, eyeing up the street behind him, is wearing a plain black sweater and black pants underneath a long tweed trench coat. Dull gray eyes meet mine when he turns around. His hair is mostly silver, and the grooves etched across his forehead are deep, irreversible.
“How can I help you?” Something about him has my hackles raised, and I step outside, pulling the door closed behind me.
“Cartier?” He has a faint accent. “Cartier Black?”
“Yes.”
I’m trying to link him to one of the women who are currently staying with us, and the only person it could be is Elena. I should’ve brought my phone outside with me. Without it, I have no way of letting Mika know that we have a potential security breach.
So, he takes me by complete surprise when he says, “My name is Yuri Asimov. I’m your uncle.”
I’m waitingin a window seat in the café on the next block when Yuri Asimov arrives.
It’s neutral ground.
I didn’t want to meet him at all, but Mika persuaded me to hear him out before writing him off completely. As a precaution, we changed the codes on the security alarms at the shelter. I still feel uneasy that he knew where to find me, but if he is telling the truth, and he is family, I guess the least I can do is listen to his story.
“It’s coffee and a chocolate brownie,” Mika pointed out. “Not a lifetime commitment.”
