Page 10 of Bratva Queen

“Sorry about that,” I muttered, taking out the cassette and turning it to the radio.

She chuckled, resting a hand on my arm and clutching her chest with the other hand. “That scared the hell out of me,” she said, smiling. “But at least you have good taste.”

I cocked an eyebrow, peaking at her hand on my arm from the corner of my eye as I started the car. “Really? Stepan teases me for listening to them.”

She took her hand from my arm and squeezed both between her thighs for warmth. My heart beat faster, just from the thought of those delicate fingers touching those inner thighs. Did they ever travel higher? When she was alone? I was dying to know. Who would she think of?

“Obviously, Stepan doesn’t have good taste in music,” she said with a cheeky smile. It was perhaps the first time she’d said something against him, and I couldn’t help the slow smile that grew at the corner of my mouth.

I pulled away from the club, heading in the direction of her apartment building. I’d followed Stepan’s car to drop her off more than once and knew the way well. As I drove, I was very much aware of the quick, awkward glances she sent in my direction. I noticed her licking her lips, rubbing her hands together, squeezing her thighs closer. Was it just me, or was she just as curious as I was about this… tension between us?

After a few minutes, she said, “Stepan bought my apartment. Did you know that?”

My lips pressed together. “I did.”

“Of course you did. I figured as much. I haven’t spoken to him since I found out. Could you tell him I said thank you, since I’m unable to?”

I couldn’t figure out if she was pleased about it or uncomfortable. Her tone shifted mid-sentence, making her hard to read, but I was sure that it bothered her that he wasn’t around. That it was just me, the bodyguard, picking her up from work.

“I will.”

The air was thick with this uncomfortable tension, and we fell into silence. Feeling her gaze on me again, I shifted in my seat, glancing over at her with questioning eyes.

“Why did he do that?” she asked, her voice filled with curiosity.

I’ve asked myself that same question.“Stepan likes giving gifts,” I said with a shrug, knowing it wasn’t the answer she wanted to hear. Hell, it was an answer that didn’t make much sense, but I didn’t know what else to say. I added, “Extravagant gifts.”

She nodded, staring out the window.

“How did that make you feel?” I asked, feeling like a damn therapist. “Him giving you such a nice gift.”

She scoffed. “Nice? It’s beyond nice. It’s almost too much. I mean, don’t get me wrong, I’m more than flattered and it was so kind of him, but it’s just… I’ve never had someone give me a fucking apartment!” She sounded exasperated, surprising me with her profanity. I liked it, though. It showed a kind of strength in her.

A fucking apartment in his name,I wanted to say, though I bit my tongue. Instead, I said, “I understand. But don’t feel obligated to pay him back. He wouldn’t want that. A thank you is more than enough.”Don’t feel pressured to date him.

“There isn’t a thank you big enough for something like that,” she said pensively, looking into her lap.

Pulling up to the building, I put the car in park and looked over at her. She stared at me, her face partially illuminated by the street lamps. The subtle, dim lighting and complete silence had somehow made things more…intimate.

“I’m serious,” I said, taking myself by surprise. I hadn’t meant to sound so assertive. “Don’t feel pressured to return the favor, in any way. I don’t care if he bought you a box of chocolates or the goddamn moon—you’re not an object someone can buy. Remember that.”

She stared at me, her eyes open wide as she sat there, speechless. The air crackled with apprehension in the silent car. Maybe I was too intense and completely out of line, but something had ignited within me. I felt protective over her. Stepan would cut off my nuts if he heard me talking to her that way, but I didn’t care. She needed to hear those words—and if it cost me my nuts, then so be it.

“I will,” she answered softly. Her head tilted slightly, curiously trying to read me. I liked that she wasn’t rushing to get out of the car. That she wanted to sit here and talk with me. After a moment of speculation, she mused, “You’re not like him.”

“No,” was all I could answer, my gaze softening as it dropped to her lips for only a second.

“You’re not like anyone,” she said, eyes squinted as she peered at me with scrutiny.

Was that a compliment or an insult? I would gladly admit that I wasn’t like the others in the bratva. They’ve said it to me more than once, though it was usually in a mocking way.

“I’m not,” I answered honestly.And I don’t want to be.I don’t ever want to be like him—bloodthirsty and devious.Not all bratva men were bad, but they all did bad things. Terrible, deplorable things. Things that I never in my life imagined myself doing; it had never been my plan. Yet there I was.

“Why are you… with them?” she asked carefully, looking as though she was scared that I might get angry about the question.

“Them?”

“The—ah… the bratva.” She swallowed deeply, then waved her hands around nervously. “I’m sorry, I shouldn’t ask that, I know. It’s just… you seem… I don’t know, destined for something else? Something better.”

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