Page 22 of Bratva Queen

Her eyes widened, but she knew better than to say anything. I stood up and tilted my head toward the door, shuffling her out like she was an actual plaything of Stepan’s; she’d done her job, and now it was time to leave.

I didn’t want her to leave. I wanted to keep her here, in this house, alone with me. I wanted to brush my hand over her hair and calm those shot nerves of hers. Brush my lips against hers and whisper that she meant the world to me.

My thoughts went further—I wanted to sit her on the table and kneel before her, to make sure she got that climax she deserved. Over and over again. Twist her around, eat her pussy from behind and play with her clit until she trembled with sexual exhaustion.

But that was not my place.

Besides, it was very possible that Stepan had his security guy rig the place with cameras, since he was keeping so much product here. So, without saying a word, I escorted her to the limousine. She paused and looked at me.

“Do we have to take the limo? It would feel so weird pulling up to my building in one. People will stare… and judge...”

I gave one nod and led her to my car instead, actually relieved that she suggested it. It was just like her. Reasonable, modest. Again, I opened her door without even a glance, closing it after she climbed into the passenger seat. When I settled into place, I started the car, heading back toward her building.

We sat in silence for a few minutes before she said, “I’m sorry for Stepan’s behavior earlier. It wasn’t right of him to dismiss your presence like that.”

I spoke blandly, staring ahead at the dark road. “Don’t worry about it. That’s my job, and I’m used to it.”

She turned her head to gaze out the window. “I guess we both have a job that degrades us.” She grew quiet for a moment and added, “Treated a certain way to please the men who are more powerful.” I swore I heard her mutter a curse, though it was hardly a whisper.

“Why are you doing this?” she asked a moment later, catching me off guard.

“Doing what?” I eyed her in my peripheral, unsure what she meant.Why am I putting up with Stepan’s degrading behavior?

It was a long story that dated back about a decade. A story involving a troubled young kid getting involved with the wrong crowd, earning himself a death sentence, and his older brother stepping in to take on the debt himself.

“Why are you always around? Watching me? Driving me?”

Now, I really was caught off guard. In an obvious tone, I said, “Because it’s my job.”

“Your job?”

“Yeah. You were assigned to me.”

Her voice rose. “Assigned?”

“Yes. I’m your bodyguard. Stepan assigned me to keep you safe and watch over you.”

Her jaw dropped and she scoffed. “So he assigned you to do his job.” There was an underlying level of hurt amongst the irritation. “He could’ve at least told me.”

“I’m surprised he didn’t.”

I pulled up to her building and parked the car, shutting it off. As I opened my door, she grabbed my hand. The simple touch sent emotion swirling through my gut. A wrenching, dangerous kind of emotion. I turned swiftly and stared at her, trying to keep my expression stern and unyielding.

“Thank you,” she said, her voice soft. “Thank you for protecting me. I feel safe with you.”

Those words… They affected me in a way I’d never expected. I sighed, closing my eyes and shutting my door again. All of this anger inside of me seemed to purge from my system, leaving me feeling tired and defeated. As if she sensed it, she quickly released my hand, tucking her hair behind her ear sheepishly.

“I’m sorry. I probably shouldn’t say that—”

Feeling dispirited without my anger stopping me, I grabbed her hand again and ran my thumb over her knuckles. Startled, she faced me. I lifted my eyes to her and said, “I need you to feel safe around me. I’m sorry I’ve been… hostile, recently. But if you feel safe, at least I know I’m doing my job right.”

I nodded, satisfied that I’d buried the hatchet, so to speak, and tried to release my grip. But she tightened her hand around mine, staring into my eyes with that same fire she always held. A swirling flame I could get lost in forever; if only that was possible. Her eyes fluttered slightly, and her lips relaxed. I saw what was coming; it was exactly the same as last time, so I quickly turned away, creating enough distance to kill whatever was between us, severing any moment of connection, again. I saw the falter in her eyes, the sinking of her shoulders, but I couldn’t let that affect me. I got out of the car and escorted her to her door.

The whole scene was extremely, uncomfortably familiar, and I was itching to get out of there.

“Why don’t you come inside?” she suggested, holding her key in the door. “As a thank you for driving me home.” She must’ve sensed my coming decline because she quickly added, “My mother would love to serve you a piece of her homemade pie. She’s always telling me to be a better host and show gratitude,” she chuckled nervously. “Please?”

I shook my head. “I’m sorry. I don’t think that would be a good idea.”

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