Page 40 of Shattered Altar (Makarova Bratva Duet)

“No. We’re not going anywhere tonight,” I say, shoving her off me.

She squeals as her butt hits the soft leather sofa. She straightens up and looks at me with a bewildered expression on her face.

It’s the first time I’ve ever refused her. Usually, she’s halfway to orgasm by now. I know that’s why she homes in on me the moment I walk through the doors. It’s why they all do.

I’m the only man who can actually make these women come.

I get to my feet and pull out my wallet. “Here’s a few hundred for your time. But it’s not happening tonight.”

Her mouth goes slack with disappointment. “But… I… it’s free…”

“Nothing in life is free,” I tell her. “If Demyan asks, tell him I fucked you ten ways to Sunday. Got it? I’ll never hear the end of it otherwise.”

She stares at the stack of crisp hundred dollar bills I’ve discarded on the table. Her disappointment turns into confusion, but she can’t find the words to convey it.

Fine by me. I’ve had enough talking to confused women for today.

I nod and turn for the door.

“Aleks,” she calls, “don’t you want me?”

I frown, stop, and pivot back to face her. “Let’s be clear, Molly,” I say, using her real name. “I never wanted you.”

She’s still slack-jawed on the couch when I turn and leave.

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