Page 9 of Bratva Queen

No… no! It shouldn’t be him! It can’t be him!

It was just a dream, but the metaphorical value was too bright to deny. No matter what Stepan did for me or how sweet he was to me, my body wanted the man who didn’t want me.

Chapter4

Aleksei

Icouldn’t believe Stepan bought Isabel’s apartment building.

They’d be able to live there forever. Even though her brother had recently joined the military, he’d have a home to come back to, without worry or fear of eviction. That is, as long as Stepan wanted them to. Now that he owned the building, he could do what he liked with it—charge the tenants whatever amount of rent he liked or, as in this case, charge them nothing at all. What would happen if he decided not to pursue her anymore? Would he make them leave? Charge a ridiculous rent?

What bothered me the most was the way he went about it. He made sure the landlord knew to tell her that Stepan Koslov did it. “Write it down,” he’d said, peering over the guy’s shoulder to make sure he spelled his name right.

Sure, Stepan was trying hard to win her over, but if he really cared about her, would it matter if she knew it was from him? Wouldn’t seeing her happier and more relaxed, knowing she didn’t have the struggle of rent looming over her head, be enough?

Stepan wasn’t like that.

He liked to boast his power and wealth. He wanted everyone to know he was important—including her. Stepan operated in a world where people owing him was second nature, and he always ensured he came out ahead on deals.

That didn’t sit well with me because Isabel wasn’t some business deal—she was a person. Whether Stepan intended it that way, I had no idea. Maybe I was too kind, toohumanefor the bratva. Not that it was ever intended for me… I didn’t exactly have a choice.

A day after buying the building, some shit with that new associate—Dima, I believed his name was—went down, and Stepan was shot in the shoulder. He spent a few days in the hospital, one where the docs knew to keep their mouths shut. When he was released, he had to rest at home, which meant he couldn’t make it to the club to see Isabel.

“Go to the club and check on her,” he said, pouring us both a shot of bourbon with his good arm—and the other in a sling—as we sat in the private den that formed part of his bedroom suite. “Let her know I was injured and that I will return after my recovery.”

“Well then, I’m off,” I said, standing from the chair to head to the club, hoping he wouldn’t recognize the eagerness in me. No matter how much it bothered me to see her and know that I couldn’t have her, I would never turn down the opportunity.

“Make sure you give her a ride home,” Stepan called out, downing a third shot. “I don’t want her walking home in that area.”

I nodded and headed to the club, waiting outside for Isabel rather than going in. I didn’t feel right going in there alone anymore. If I went in, I’d either have to watch her slide her body against some slimy asshole, or she’d have to dance for me, and the temptation was just too much. I couldn’t trust myself to sit there and not touch her, notwanther.

Parked behind the building near the staff exit, I waited in my car, listening to myNautilus Pompilliouscassette. It must’ve been two hours before I saw her walk outside with a few other girls after their shift, heading toward the side road that connected to the club. The sky was already lighting up, though the sunrise was still at least an hour away.

I stepped out of the car and leaned against the hood, tilting my head back as I called out, “Isabel!”

Her head cocked to the side, her glossy hair flapping with the motion, and she squinted. “Aleksei? Is that you?” Her hands were stuffed in the pockets of her jacket, above the high waist of her tight jeans. I sucked in a cold breath between my clenched teeth.Those curves will be the death of me.

I nodded. “Yes. It’s me. Stepan sent me to give you a ride home.”

She walked up to me, looking a little nervous, maybe? Her eyes met mine for only a second, twinkling in the neon light of the club sign before she looked away and asked, “Oh, he did? And where is Stepan? I haven’t seen him in a while.”

“He’s injured. He wanted you to know that he would be back once he’s recovered enough.” I tipped my head, trying to catch her gaze again, trying to gauge why she seemed so avoidant. At my reply, she quickly looked at me.

“Is he okay?” She straightened, her face filled with concern. “Was it serious?”

Still leaning back against the hood of my car, my hands were deep in my own pockets—whether to keep them warm or keep them from reaching for her waist, I wasn’t going to analyze. She stood close to me, the low lighting forcing her to step toward me as she spoke, trying to see my face more clearly.

“He’s fine,” I said in a low tone, feeling a clenching in my stomach. I hated that she was so concerned for him. I hated that she cared at all. But who was I to feel anything about her? To me, she was merely an extremely good-looking woman. That was all she could be to me. Nothing more.

Breathing out a huff of relief, she nodded. “That’s good. So, what happened?”

“Bratva business.” As soon as I said the words, I wanted to take them back. Surely, Stepan had told her about being in the bratva. Of course, everyone knew without being told, but whether he officially said anything to Isabel, I wasn’t sure. And my big mouth so openly said it.

She nodded, her expression indecipherable.

“Come,” I said, gesturing to my car. “Get in.”

Hesitant, she followed me to the passenger door. Maybe the mention of bratva had spooked her. I opened the door, closing it after she climbed in. When I turned the car on, the music blasted out, loud enough to make us both jump. I turned down the volume.

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