Page 11 of Brooklyn Bratva

I’d been successful for so long because I knew how to keep a low profile. I always had. And that was one of the things they valued about me. But having a low profile never meant I was free to operate without rules.

CHAPTER 4

Becca

The Oceana Complex was just off the boardwalk, right where it had always been. When I was a kid, the exclusive development had seemed so far out of reach. Everyone knew the garages were full of the kind of cars that cost the same as a house, and you could look down at the grounds between the buildings, watching the residents who came out, or the people who worked to keep the grounds pristine. The buildings all had views out over the ocean, and there was a huge pool, as well as a sauna and spa. It felt like somewhere I’d go on holiday when I won the lottery someday, not the kind of place I really expected people to live.

But Ivan’s mother had a two bed condo in one of the red brick buildings that towered over the flat expanse of pale yellow sand, like some grand European hotel. I guess they must have been pretty rich back in Moscow. The idea seemed strange to me, given that I’d never seen Ivan flashing his money about, and as far as I knew, he still lived in the same crummy apartment building that my Dad and I used to live in, over by the 60th Precinct, towards Coney Island.

When he led me inside, I tried to keep my face neutral, and stopped myself from looking around at everything like I’d never seen an actual concierge desk in an apartment building before, and wasn’t desperate to know whether I got to use the pool too.

“It’s very safe here,” was the only thing Ivan had to say about it.

We went up in one of the silent elevators, Ivan didn’t make small talk. I didn’t know what to say either.

His mother opened the door with a beaming smile, lipstick shell pink, foundation flawless, and her eyes perfectly lined.

“Vanya, show our guest in.”

“Yes Mama.” Ivan’s lips twitched just enough for me to make out the hint of a smile tugging at the corner of his mouth as the tiny woman ordered him about with an imperial air. He’d been carrying my bag since retrieving my cell phone, and he’d already marched me on a rapid walking tour of the grounds and the building. I didn’t know quite what else he was supposed to do, but he wasn’t complaining.

“This will be your room,” he said, opening the door to a neatly appointed double bed, with floral covers and matching curtains that made me certain this was his mom’s house, not his. I’d half hoped he lived here too. But what man his age still lived with his mother unless he had to?

I guess getting me to help her out when she needed it meant he could carry on with his own private life. Of course he had his own place. Ivan had done well for himself in the police force and there was no reason why he wouldn’t. I shouldn’t have been so disappointed.

He probably had a girlfriend or a wife too. The thought of that sapped the smile right off my face and I slumped back against one of the closet doors, needing something to support my weight because my legs didn’t feel like holding me up any longer.

“Oh! Is problem? You no like?”

I swallowed hard, pushing the wave of premature grief back. “Oh, no Mrs Kovalenko. It’s a lovely room. Thank you so much for letting me stay.”

“Da. Good. Is bathroom, there. And then kitchen through and through.”

I nodded, feeling a bit like one of those nodding dogs people get for their cars.

Ivan set my bag down on the bed.

“Closet,” he said, unnecessarily, crossing the room to open the door of it that I wasn’t leaning against. His body arched over mine and I was acutely aware of his hand on the tiny door handle, his knuckles just inches away from skimming against my belly. My whole body tensed at his proximity, my nipples turning into hard little bullets, aimed directly at him through the thin cotton of my t-shirt.

My eyes locked onto his mouth and it was all I could do not to climb him like a tree right in front of his mother. Surely, he had to be able to tell how desperate for him I was.

I swallowed hard, forcing myself to look away and my fingers tugged at the suddenly strangling neck of my top. I could barely breathe.

“Right.”

He stepped back. “Drawers over there. I’ll get you the WiFi password. Mama won’t understand if you ask her for it.”

“Okay, thanks.” I cleared my throat and childishly, crossed my fingers behind my back. “Do you stay here sometimes?”

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