Page 62 of Immaculate Deception (Romanoff Bratva)

Brigitte has made the same face before every dumb, disastrous thing we’ve ever done together.

I don’t like the look of it on Erik now.

“I remember meeting you in New York,” he remarks. “Brigitte told me to keep my distance, so I did. But now… here you are.”

“On the run,” I retort, none too nicely. “Hiding out. I’m only here because I’m desperate.”

He shrugs and looks me over. His eyes are dark and he’s silhouetted by the lamp behind him. He looks like a living shadow standing in front of me. I have the urge to flip the light switch to cast him away.

“Worse things have brought people together.”

My tone grows icier even as fear starts to claw through my stomach. “We aren’t being ‘brought together,’ Erik. Brigitte told me I could hide out here, but if I can’t, then—”

“Oh, you can,” he says quickly. “You certainly can.” He waves his hands as if to calm me down, though his smirk only serves to make me more on edge. “But nothing comes for free in life. You know that.”

He’s not saying what he wants explicitly. But it’s not difficult to puzzle out what he means. Especially when his eyes keep drinking me in like that.

The whole situation is made even more bizarre by the fact that I’m two days post-birth. I still look six months pregnant and I’m wearing his oversized clothes. I’m not exactly at my most desirable right now.

Plus, I physicallycan’t.

“I gave birth to a human two days ago,” I say, pointing to Lukas as proof. “Whatever payment you think you’re owed, I’m closed for business for at least six weeks.”

Erik shakes his head. “I’m disappointed in your lack of imagination. Your mouth seems to be working just fine to me. Your hands, too.”

My stomach knots up painfully. I shake my head, backing away from him. “This is ridiculous. I’m getting Brigitte.”

“Be my guest.” He shrugs.

I don’t want to leave Lukas alone with him, but he’s sleeping and I don’t have any real belief Erik is out to physically harm my son. Besides, I’m only going just down the hall.

I spin out of the room and knock on Brigitte’s door.

Surprisingly, she answers right away. Her eyebrows raise when she sees the panic on my face. “What’s up?” she says in a clear voice without a trace of sleepiness to it.

“Your brother is being weird. I don’t know if he’s drunk or high or if he’s just delusional, but he’s asking me to have sex with him and I want him out of my room. Can you help?”

Weirdly, Brigitte just sighs in frustration. Not surprise, not alarm—frustration. Almost as if this isn’t the first time she’s been forced to deal with this kind of thing.

She marches past me, grabbing my arm to haul me along behind her. She pulls me into the room, depositing me next to the dresser, and stands in front of the door with her arms crossed and a deep scowl on her face.

“Not appropriate, Erik.”

Her brother shrugs, unperturbed.

What the fuck is wrong with this guy?My skin is crawling and my heartbeat is pounding in my ears and the palms of my hands are slick with a cold, frightened sweat.

“This is not why Arya is here,” Brigitte continues. “She isn’t your plaything.”

I nod along in agreement.

Thank God for Brigitte.

Thank God for friends.

Thank God for—

“You were supposed to knock her out before she even woke up. Now, you’ve made things more difficult. Typical.”

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