Page 69 of Brooklyn Bratva

CHAPTER 34

Becca

“We should celebrate,” Max announced as the pair of them strolled in the door of Ivan’s apartment, back from whatever they’d been together.

Ivan looked a hell of a lot happier than he had this morning, and something seemed to have shifted between the pair. I was glad because it meant I didn’t have to focus on what I’d learned about Ivan’s Mama.

Tomorrow I could figure out whether it was really better to let him know or keep it a secret, and I could start figuring out how to deal with these people.

I laughed. “Why are we celebrating?”

“Your boyfriend made a breakthrough.”

“Partner.” I looked back at Ivan, confused by the growl in his voice, and Maxim’s brow raised too.

“What?”

“We’re partners. Do I look like a little boy to you, Toropov?”

Max snorted. “All the more reason to celebrate, then, to toast the enviably happy couple.”

I felt a glow go through me. Ivan wasn’t wrong. I’d never thought about him as my boyfriend. He was always my man. But it was good to hear Ivan name what we had between us.

“Partners. I like the sound of that.”

After a few phone calls, twenty minutes later Maxim directed us out to a waiting limo with blacked out windows and I raised an eyebrow, looking towards Ivan. He was less than impressed and rolled his eyes as he held the passenger door open for me.

I slid across the leather seat to the far side and Ivan slipped in beside me, positioning himself as a solid barrier between me and Maxim. Entirely unnecessarily. I only had eyes for him.

“Where are we going?”

Maxim’s grin was broad, and he looked very amused at Ivan’s irritation. “I told you, we’re celebrating. Time to reap some of the rewards, Ivan my friend.”

With that he pulled open the door of the mini bar, and pulled out a bottle of champagne.

Ivan practically scowled. “Whose car is this?”

“Roman Dvornikov’s. Calm down. He’s the reason I’m here.”

Maxim popped the cork on the champagne and poured out glasses, handing one over to me. I giggled as it overflowed the sides and Ivan visibly gritted his teeth. Leaning in against his chest, I tried to get him to calm down, sliding my hand along his thigh and whispering to him.

“Who’s Roman Dvornikov?”

“Our laundry man.”

My eyes widened in understanding and I took a sip of the champagne, unsurprised to discover how smooth it was, even if I didn’t entirely like the taste. I could have stuck to vodka cocktails and that would have been fine with me. Ivan wasn’t talking about a man who did the sheets.

“What’s he doing here?”

Maxim stretched across the car and patted Ivan on the side of the face, which was either a very brave, or very stupid move. “Nothing for you to worry yourself about Ivan. Tonight, we’re just having a good time on Bratva money. You deserve it. Live a little.”

I leaned in against his chest, wiggling to get more comfortable and underneath my shoulder I felt Ivan finally let go of the tension in him. “Fine. But only for Becca.”

Maxim let out a low scoff, and shook his head, but a moment later he was raising his glass in a toast. “To Becca.”

We clinked glasses, and Maxim topped them off again, putting more into Ivan’s glass when he practically sank it in one go.

“This better not bring me any trouble Toropov.”

“You have no faith, Ivan.”

The car turned around, working back to the main road, heading up towards Sheepshead Bay, and I was surprised to find it slowing down after hardly any time at all.

Maxim sprang out onto the pavement almost as soon as the car pulled up, and Ivan was hot on his heels. He held the door for me, and I was glad of his assistance out of the car in my high, high heels.

We were on the road that ran along the waterfront and Maxim was already striding towards the nearest pier. A ramp went down steeply to the boat that was moored there, and I realized that although the large motor yacht was flying an American flag, the name was Russian. Tatiana. Miami.

I gripped on tight to Ivan’s broad bicep as we went down the ramp. Maxim was still holding the champagne bottle by the neck and he didn’t let it go, even as he was met at the edge of the boat by a man with just as much physical presence as Maxin and Ivan.

I watched them shake hands and slap each other’s backs like old acquaintances.

Ivan offered me his arm and I straightened self-consciously. This was the kind of yacht that millionaires owned. Maybe even billionaires. I’d never even thought I’d come close to meeting someone like that.

“He’s good at his job then?” I whispered to Ivan, turning my head slightly in the hopes that neither Maxim nor Roman heard me or read my lips.

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