Page 70 of Sexting the Bratva Beast
But I’m not paying attention. I’m scanning the snowy landscape for a glimpse of movement. Anything. A twitching branch. A shift in the deep snow. I allowed myself to be distracted, and distractions cost lives.
Just like Ivana said. I need to be fully focused. While we were frolicking in the snow, my enemies could’ve breached security and infiltrated the house, and that scares the shit out of me. Not for me. But because I promised to keep Cartier safe, and the thought of someone getting close enough to harm her…
“We should get back inside.”
I watch her smile fade, and I hate that I’m the cause, but until Yuri Asimov is dealt with, fun-time must be more controlled.
“Andrej?” The color drains from her face, eyes darting back and forth between me and the house. “What is it? What’s happened?”
“Nothing.”This time.
But it could’ve happened, and I would never forgive myself.
My eyes meet Ivana’s. She understands. She knows this world that we live in, the world that Cartier is oblivious to. If there were no threat to Cartier’s life, she wouldn’t be here. None of us would. We’d all be in Chicago, going about our usual routine, Christmas tunes blasting from every store and radio station till they’re fixed inside our heads and playing on repeat in our dreams.
“There’s something I want to show you.” Ivana addresses Cartier, her voice devoid of emotion.
“What is it?”
Unlike the twin dressed all in black, Cartier’s emotions dance across her features like a silent movie. Surprise. Joy. Anticipation. Suspicion. She’s still figuring out the dynamics of their relationship, which isn’t easy when it’s all one-sided.
“I’ll show you inside.” Ivana turns around and heads back to the house without waiting or expecting a response.
I offer Cartier my hand, and she accepts it. Walking back, she throws backward glances at the snowman as if committing it to memory to hold onto when the snow melts.
“It will be there for a while.”
She peers up at me. The sparkle in her eyes has dimmed a little, her excitement subdued, and I’m reminded with a sharp stab through the heart that she’s only here because of me.
“Do you think the snow will last through the holidays?”
She doesn’t ask when we’ll go back to Chicago. Never asks that question. But it lingers between us like a toxic bubble waiting to be popped.
“Yes. There’s plenty more to come.” I feel like I’m offering her a consolation prize: avoid the million-dollar question and I’ll reward you with more snow.
I’m an asshole. But I’m an asshole who will do anything to keep her safe.
Inside the house, we ditch the coats and boots, our hands and faces stinging with the sudden injection of warmth.
Ivana waits silently in the hallway.
“Where are we going?” Cartier asks.
It’s one of the many things that I love about her, this ability to bounce back from disappointment on the flip of a coin.
“You’ll see.” Ivana doesn’t look at me before walking off, and I wonder how she’s going to wing the ‘surprise’ when Cartier realizes that it was a ploy to get her back inside the house.
Fairy lights twinkle along the hallway ceiling, and it’s like watching them walk through a tunnel to a magical kingdom.
“I’ll make hot chocolate,” I call after them, and Cartier smiles at me over her shoulder.
I head to the kitchen. I can attend to business just as easily from here while the milk warms as I can anywhere else.
If anyone had warned me a year ago that I’d be fixing hot chocolate with marshmallows and sprinkles in my family’s ancestral home, I’d have believed that they’d lost their mind. But now… I make the drink to Cartier’s specification because the image of her moving around the kitchen, her arm brushing mine, the coconut smell of her shampoo filling my senses is indelibly printed in my psyche.
While the milk heats up in the pan, I set the wheels in motion to tighten security around the house. More bodyguards. More weapons. I want the codes changed on the alarm systems. I’ll turn it into a fucking fortress if that’s what it will take to keep her safe.
An email pops up on my cell phone. It’s from Victoria. She has information on the murder of Cartier’s biological parents.
