Page 61 of Brooklyn Bratva

“Too short.”

I gave him a look, but hung the first option back up all the same.

He plucked at the neckline of my favorite, in dark royal blue. “Too much cleavage.”

“How do you know? I haven’t even put it on yet.”

“I know. It goes all the way down, look.”

On an eyeroll, I hung that one back up too.

“This one?”

“Where’s the rest of it?”

I let out a huff. “Seriously, Ivan. Go into the kitchen, find one of your Mother’s garbage bags. I’ll put it over the top of my obscenely revealing clothing. Will that make you happy?”

“Yes.”

“Oh get over it. Just because you didn’t notice me until now, doesn’t mean you get to hide me away in babushka clothes.”

Ivan snarled. “I don’t want to spend the evening watching every man’s tongue on the floor from looking at you.”

I let my expression soften. It should have made me want to tell him off, but all I could see was how much he wanted me to be his, and how he must have thought every other man in the world had the same desire. I knew full well they didn’t.

“They’re going to look. Because I’m going to be on the arm of the most attractive man in Brooklyn and they’re going to wonder how the hell it’s not illegal for us to be together because we look so damn fine.”

The tension eased out of Ivan’s jaw, and his breathing came more easily. “You better not be talking about Maxim.”

I jutted my hip, elbow out. “You better not even ask that question.”

“Fine.”

“Good.” I stepped away from my closet, slinking over to the bed and leaning down to kiss him. His hands settled on my hips like they were always meant to be there. “You’re such a silly man. I’m not dressing up for anyone else but you. I want you to spend all evening thinking about what you want to do to me when we get home.”

His lips twitched into a smile for the first time all afternoon and his hands roved up along my thighs. “I can get on board with that.”

“I thought you might. So, which dress am I going to wear?”

Ivan

I had my suspicions on why Max chose Tatiana’s. It was common knowledge that the Ukranian’s favored it, and Max seemed to have all the local knowledge, even though he wasn’t.

It was one thing for me to stop in for an evening drink and some food, to make my presence felt. But it was another for me to show up with a man like Toropov the Torpedo, whose reputation preceded him. Silent but deadly. He had to know that.

When I walked in with Becca on my arm, he already had a bottle of vodka on the table, and the girl, Katja all over him. They had their heads close together, and Max’s hand traced over her thigh.

It looked convincing, but I could see the intensity in his eyes, and he wasn’t focused on her. The tension between them wasn’t sexual, although I was sure she was doing her best. She’d swapped the red for black today and I still saw nothing but a whore.

I rolled my eyes.

The last thing I was expecting was for Becca to let out a shriek.

“Oh my God, it’s Katja!” She turned to me, beaming and I couldn’t for the life of me figure out why. “We work together at the clinic!”

My brows rose. I hadn’t thought she would have had a job aside from whoring for the Ukranian’s. They usually kept their girls under close control.

Katja looked a little stunned as Becca hugged her, but her smile pulled in easily enough and soon the pair of them were chattering away, laughing. Irritation made my jaw tense.

I wanted a night out with my girl, but Max was either working or trying to get his dick wet. Maybe both. And now Becca was flagging down the waitress to order cocktails.

I slammed down into the chair next to Max, arms folded across my chest.

“You’d wanna get inoculated before sticking your prick in her.”

Max reached for the bottle of vodka and poured me a glass, topping up his own.

“She has a boyfriend, Ivan. Doesn’t do that kind of work.”

“Bullshit.”

Max shrugged. “She’s talkative though. Got lots to say.”

“Maybe you can go and listen to her, so I can spend my night off with Becca.”

“Grumpy aren’t you. Have a drink. Try to relax. Fun, you remember that thing?”

“I don’t mix business and pleasure.”

“Neither do I. We’re splitting it. I’ll do the business, you do the pleasure. Teamwork, that is. Now bloody well start looking like you’re enjoying yourself with your beautiful girlfriend before the security thug over there decides we’re not welcome. Can you do that Ivan?”

“Fuck you Toropov.”

Max stood, rounding the table to make a show of greeting Becca, and his arm wove around Katja’s waist. A moment later, he ducked down to whisper something in Becca’s ear, and she flushed, her eyes dancing towards me.

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