Page 62 of Brooklyn Bratva

I felt myself stiffen, a growl brewing in the back of my throat. What was he saying to her?

Before I could get to my feet, Becca walked towards me and slipped delicately onto my lap.

“What did Max say?”

Her lips drifted to my ear. “That you need to learn to have some fun.”

I grunted.

“I think I agree with him, Ivan.”

The lights had already dimmed, and my teeth ground together at the sound of music starting up. We were here on the night of the traditional show. A line of men and women in silky shirts with billowing sleeves, turbans on their heads and soft Russian boots came onto the small stage. Cossack dancing for all the Americans.

Becca looked at me, eyes bright, and she clapped her hands. “Look! They’re going to dance!”

I nodded. “They do the same thing every week.”

This was not the date I would have planned.

Becca

Ivan looked miserable from the moment we sat down at the table in Tatiana’s. I couldn’t stop myself from laughing at him. He looked so annoyed by everything, especially compared to Max, who seemed determined to be the life of the party.

Katja seemed totally taken, and I was pleased for her. Maxim definitely seemed attentive. He wouldn’t even let us talk for long before he was trying to steal her away again, and Katja didn’t even try to stop him.

I dragged Ivan up onto the dance floor when the troupe of performers were done. Full of laughter, I tried to get him to joke around with me, but his feet stayed firmly planted, stubbornly tree-like in the middle of the floor.

“Ivan!” I laughed at him, stretching up on my toes so I could sling my arms around his neck. I wasn’t going to let him get away with this. “You’re supposed to dance with me!”

“I don’t dance.”

“Make an exception. For me. Please?”

My big brute of a man let out a fierce breath and it felt like the Big Bad Wolf huffing and puffing down his straw house.

“Fine. Let’s dance. It’s your fault if I break your toes.”

He held his hand out, palm facing up and my hand slid into his so perfectly, nestled in with his fingers curling tightly around mine. I couldn’t stop smiling.

“You won’t break my toes.”

Ivan didn’t look convinced and I reached up to smooth the scowl away from his features, tilting his chin down so I could look him in the eyes.

Gently, I stepped on top of his big boots, careful not to drop my weight down onto my spiky heels and I balanced on his feet.

He let out a laugh, and for all he was looking at me like I was a mad woman, he dutifully shifted his weight from side to side, more or less in time with the music.

“I don’t think this is how it’s supposed to go.”

“I don’t care.”

Ivan

We stumbled out of the club together, leaving Max chatting up Katja. Whatever he’d said before, they’d been up close and personal all evening. I didn’t care whether he ended up going home with her or not, just as long as he didn’t try to bring her back to my place, but something told me that despite all the flirting, he wasn’t trying to get into her pants.

Becca reached down to unstrap her shoes, clinging onto my arm as she stepped out of them until she had her balance again.

“Oh my God, that’s so much better.”

The heels dangled from the straps in her hand, and she wandered along barefoot, singing something I didn’t know the words to. She twirled, arms spread wide like she was trying to fly.

“Dance with me, Ivan.”

I couldn’t deny her anything, and I grabbed for her outstretched hand, letting her pull me into a dizzy spin, careful not to lose my grip on the vodka bottle I’d brought with us from our table. Both of us could have taken off. She made me feel like I could grab a hold of all the years of my life since I’d picked the hard path, and sacrificed my youth, and somehow get them back. Being with her meant I hadn’t missed out on them, I was just always meant to have them now.

On a whoop, I rushed at her, and she let out a giggled shriek as I scooped her up over my shoulder. I was shaking with the force of my own laughter too as I carried her down to the sand.

Away from the boardwalk, the roar of the ocean took over from the usual noises of Brooklyn. Out here, with the hush of the waves rushing in over the sand and flooding out again with the same steady in and out as breathing, everything else felt far away.

I slumped down in the sand, parking the bottle of vodka before I lay back, looking up at the orange tinted clouds – the street lights of New York reflected right back down at us. But out in front, the dense blackness of the cold ocean stretched out for endless miles.

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