Page 8 of The Bratva's Secret Baby

As she was already snooping around The Circle, she would know who I was if I told her I was a Varkov. She couldn’t know my true identity just yet. Not until I was done with her.

Shifting her attention back to me, she purred. “Damien, is there a reason I can’t know your full name?”

I shrugged; my eyes fixed on the road. “I don’t think it’s necessary.”

Her grin widened as she leaned over to me a little. “Are you someone very important?”

She was so fucking sexy when she flirted like that.

“Maybe?”

“Right.” She rested back in her seat. “I don’t care what your last name is, as long you aren’t one of them.”

I took a glance at her. “One of who?”

She huffed a sigh. “Never mind, I don’t want to talk about it now.”

A wicked smile crept onto my face as I knew exactly what she meant. If only she knew who I really was…. If only she knew.

There weren’t many people who liked us, but only a few harbored a deep hatred against us. Most of them had personal reasons for their resentment. I had no idea what Rosanne's reason was, but it was clear that she hated us, the Russian mafia. When we got to 5th Avenue near Central Park, I tilted my head toward her.

"So, let's talk about you."

“What do you want to know?”

“Everything. But first, let’s start with where you live.”

She giggled and blushed a little, vibrating with innocence and naivety.

“I actually live near Hell's Kitchen,” she said, still hesitant in her voice but then directed me to her apartment building.

She took a slow breath and continued as if recounting a bitter memory.

“I don’t have any family. Anyway, I’m a second-year law student, and I work at a floral shop to earn extra cash. There really isn’t much to know about me.”

Curiosity gnawed at me. I wanted to know what she meant by not having a family, but I didn’t want to ask her now. Her sad story was none of my business.

A second-year law student? She was younger than I thought. How dangerous could she be to us? I needed to find out more about her. For whom was she working? My thoughts raced, and I felt my temper rising, but I had to stay patient and composed.

“So,” she said as I pulled up at her apartment building, “this is where I live. Nothing fancy, it’s small, but it’s home. Thanks for driving me home.”

I nodded. “Of course.”

We held each other's gaze for a moment, her breath hitched, the voices in my head and the currents of dark desires ignited within me. As the air tensed even more, she hesitated, stroked her tongue over her lips, and bit her bottom lip.

Her fingers drummed absentmindedly on her exposed thigh. I swallowed hard as my eyes connected with her exposed skin and she shifted a little when she noticed my intense gaze. I was wild with the need to touch her and couldn’t stop thinking of her warm and moist pussy.

My stomach tightened, damn it, Rosanne had an effect on me like no other woman ever had. I’d always been in control of my senses and feelings.

I was fucked.

When I was with her, any self-control and discipline I could boast of somehow seeped out of me.

I shifted in my seat so she wouldn’t notice my erection, my balls aching at the thought of fucking her. Fucking her hard until she couldn’t remember her own name.

Now.

I took Rosanne’s face in my hands, tilted her head, and softly brushed my lips along the seam of her lips. She opened on a gasp, and I swept my tongue into her mouth, tasting her for the first time.

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