Page 64 of Brooklyn Bratva

“Wherever you want.”

Unless she chose it herself, I didn’t want to subject her to the harshness of the city I grew up in. She was different, and she was special because of it. It wasn’t settling with her. It was everything I never knew I wanted, and whatever life we had together was going to be here.

“To us. And the life we’re going to live together. Wherever it takes us.”

I took a swig from the bottle, and handed it over to Becca to do the same.

She laughed at me through her mouthful, and handed the bottle back. I took it gladly, draining the rest of it down.

Just like that, I resigned myself to living the life of an American. That definitely merited finishing the bottle. There was no going back to Moscow now.

My life was what I’d made it here and I needed to face up to the fact of that. Right now, it wasn’t the life I wanted to bring Becca into, so I had more serious things to concern myself with than Joe’s approval.

“You look happy.”

She smiled at me, her face bright with joy.

“I am. It feels like I was always meant to be right here by your side. And I’m so glad you’re not like him. Maxim. I mean, he’s suave, and good looking and he dresses like a fashion model, but – don’t get jealous, I can see you bristling already. Ivan, look at me. I don’t want that. I want you, because you’re real and true to me, and he’s looking at everyone in the room like he knows how to play them, but you’re the only one who’d come out on top.”

“I always come out on top.”

It didn’t matter what her father thought about it. We were meant to be together, and I’d prove it to him.

Becca

I had the purple silk kimono wrapped tightly around me, tied in a double bow at my waist, but I still felt a little too naked to come face to face with Max, sitting up wide awake on Ivan’s couch with a steaming mug of coffee, going over something on his laptop. I was so much more bleary eyed than both of them, which served me right for even attempting to keep pace with two seasoned vodka drinkers the size of giants.

“I thought you went home with that Katja. You two really seemed to hit it off.”

Max shook his head. “Not my type. I was working.”

“What is your type?” I asked, squinting at him against the bright light coming through the window behind him.

His eyes flicked up to me briefly. “I don’t have one.”

“But you just said-”

“Sweetheart, I kill people for a living. It’s not conducive to having romantic partners. I make a business out of being unattached.”

I sat down in Ivan’s armchair across from him, having poured my own cup from the pot of coffee he’d left on the side. “That’s very sad for you.”

His eyes hardened. “Don’t get me wrong, I’m pleased for you and Ivan. You make a lovely couple. But the thought of dragging some poor clueless piece of skirt into the fuckery of my life doesn’t bear contemplating. I’d most likely end up shooting her myself.”

“She doesn’t have to be clueless.”

“Yeah. Thanks. I’ll take a pass on the psychopaths too. Cheers all the same.”

I rolled my eyes, pushing myself back out of the armchair. “Whatever you say. Personally, I think there’s someone out there for everyone.”

“I wouldn’t hold your breath too long on my account. You just get on with tying Ivan down. He could do with someone looking out for him for a change. It’s good to see him happy.”

I narrowed my eyes. “I didn’t think you guys had met before?”

“We haven’t. Officially. But this isn’t my first time in New York by any means. I appreciate the work he’s been doing for the organization over the years. He deserves more credit than that dinosaur Timoshenko gives him.”

I gave him a look. It was oddly sweet the way he was trying to look out for Ivan even though he clearly didn’t want him to. “He does, but I don’t know why you care.”

Max gave another shrug. “Ivan’s been one of the men keeping us going. One of the association’s best assets. Business. That’s all this is.”

I wasn’t sure whether I bought that, but I let it drop when Ivan came through from the bathroom.

Max was back to focusing on his laptop screen again. “The name Ruslan mean anything to you?”

Ivan tensed. “Yes.”

“Mm. Good. My new friend last night reckons he’s in deep with Grigori. He’s got him dealing prescription drugs, and running some kind of phone stealing ring.”

Ivan shrugged, rolling his shoulders as though that wasn’t entirely a surprise.

Maxim closed the laptop with a resounding clunk, putting it back down on the coffee table and he pulled his jacket on.

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