Page 36 of British Bratva: A Russian Mafia Romance

So where did that leave me, knowing that I’d give him all in a heartbeat?

Maxim let out a little growl, so low it almost felt like the air was rippling and his hand shifted away. “You deserve a hell of a lot better than being diddled under the table.”

I bit my lip, feeling a flush of heat go all the way through me, strong enough for me to know I’d gone bright pink from head to toe. I was shameless. I would have taken that and loved it.

He was the one holding back on some moral point I didn’t care about. Maybe I should have. I cared more when he looked at me that way.

His brow notched higher, amusement curling the edge of his lips. “Oh, sweetheart, I’m going to take such good care of you. But there isn’t a single thing I want to show you that I can do here without being arrested for indecency. And when I touch you again, I’m going to make you scream.”

It took every ounce of self control I had, which was a whole lot more than I thought I did, to gather myself when he leaned back.

I watched him drain the last of his coffee, and stand up, shifting the newspaper he’d come in with over the crotch of his immaculately tailored suit pants. My eyes flashed up to his and I forced myself not to let my gaze drift down to the bulge I knew was so temptingly close.

“I hope you’ll think about our offer, Ms Harrington.”

I nodded dumbly, bewildered by the man standing in front of me.

“I think you already know how to get a hold of me, when you’ve decided.”

My smile twitched. “Call the Bat Phone, right?”

“Exactly.”

Maxim covered my hand with his and squeezed. The final contact before he walked back out onto the street, and out of my visible world all over again. He was right it made me want to scream.

CHAPTER 14

Elizabeth

We agreed to do it on Wednesday night. Sutherland had a dinner booked. I rearranged my shifts. It had seemed like a great plan when we were texting back and forth and Maxim was talking in circles trying not to put anything explicit or incriminating into words.

But now I was standing outside the door of the office, holding the key that Sutherland kept in his bedside table and I could feel myself losing my nerve.

Two deep breaths was all I let myself have. I told myself there was no need to be afraid. Maxim was watching my every move. Pierce wasn’t going to find me. And the Russians needed me to do this for them. Maxim needed this.

The house felt hostile, as though it knew what I was getting up to. It shouldn’t have. It should have welcomed every move I made to get the toxic man out of what had once been a home that was full of love.

One tiny favor, and I’d be well on my way to pulling Pierce’s reputation down along with his image. They had photos, Maxim said. Of him hitting me. I could put together a case against him. It was even better mixed in with my documented evidence. They’d lock him away for years. That had to be better than the half-baked plan I’d had with an illegal revolver I hadn’t ever even shot.

And if Maxim believed that was why I wanted those pictures, then good. I’d already have them by the time he figured out I’d killed the man, and was using the evidence he’d given me to convince a jury it was self defense.

I reckoned my chances were pretty high. But I’d risk any odds for getting revenge on the man who killed my mother. My only regret would be not having more time to get to know Maxim, to see what our lives would have been like together.

Whichever plan I went with, the only thing holding me back was the web of feelings that was starting to grow for the Russian man who’d put protecting me above doing his duty.

I’d just have to pack up my infatuation with him, because if I did anything else to encourage him, he might hang around. And I might want him to, and I didn’t need anyone trying to convince me to take a better course of action.

There was no better course.

He’d killed my mother, and he had to pay for that. As far as I could see, it was an even trade. I’d only be giving him what he deserved. The British legal system wasn’t going to do that, no matter how many pictures of my bruised ribs they saw.

As quietly as I could manage I pulled the door of the office closed behind me, and tiptoed over to the desk. The computer started up with a soft hum that seemed far too loud for the silence of the house.

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