Page 21 of Bratva Queen

Don’t worry, your precious bratva king is perfectly fine.

“He’s working.” I jerked my chin to her body. “Looking particularly slutty tonight, Isa. Why don’t you do the same and get up on the pole, huh?”

She looked taken aback, hurt. There was no more fire in her eyes. Only shock and confusion. For a moment, just before she turned away, it looked like she might have teared up.

* * *

A few nightslater I waited outside the club for Isabel’s shift to end. Not far off stood the limousine that Stepan had recently decided I was to drive whenever chauffeuring him or Isabel around. It was fucking ridiculous.

Tonight Stepan was here, and he exited the club with a wide smile.

“Alek! My friend. Why so glum?”

I eyed him, not really in the mood to humor his fake concern.

“Don’t tell me it’s a girl?” he asked, playfully shaking my shoulder. “Were you dumped? Did she die? What?”

I frowned at him, utterly dumbfounded at his complete insensitivity. I guessed it was to be expected when he grew up spoiled and with no true affection from his parents. And, of course, the ruthless way he chose to use his “kingship.”

Isabel pushed open the door and smiled. “Hello, boys.”

Stepan swooped her up by the waist and kissed her. “I was just questioning Aleksei about his girlfriend.”

“Girlfriend?” she asked, quickly looking at me. “I didn’t know—”

“Neither did I!” he interrupted. “But it’s got to be a girl making him this moody, huh?” he said, and she quietened.

I turned on my heel and headed for the limo, opening the door for her to slip in first, avoiding any eye contact with her. I then hopped into the driver’s seat and drove them to Stepan’s new rental house here, downtown not far from the club. Ever since he’d started seeing Isabel regularly—sexually—he rented a house to stay in until she agreed to move into his mansion.

Stepan kissed Isabel in the backseat, releasing happy moans and loud smooches. The sound made my stomach twist into knots. “Stepan,” Isabel giggled when he’d apparently made his way from her mouth to her neck. Not that I was looking. That was the last image I wanted to see. Even hearing it filled me with ire. I bit back on the bile that rose to my throat.

“Aleksei is right there,” she muttered.

“Oh, come on,” Stepan groaned. “Just ignore him. Pretend he’s not there.”

Fuck you, too.

“I’m not that kind of girl, Stepan.” Her tone had grown more serious, and I could hear her pushing him away.

Stepan scoffed, clapping his hands with a sharp bang. “Fine. We’ll just wait.”

I couldn’t help myself from rolling my eyes. What was he, a two-year-old? Throwing a tantrum because she didn’t want to have sex in the car with someone else right there?

We pulled up to the rental, and I opened the door, not speaking a word to either of them. Maybe it was because I was having a shitty night, but I didn’t have it in me to fake a smile. I wasn’t a goddamn butler, and I was pissed he treated me like one.

Right-hand man, my ass.

Stepan insisted I come inside to prep more product to be moved and to prepare asingleusage—his emphasis, not mine—to make sure the shit was pure all the way through the shipment.Yeah right.

At least I was working on the shit I wassupposedto do. Bratva shit, not butler shit. And I would’ve had no issues if I didn’t have to listen to them fooling around in the other room. The place was too small. I didn’t want to be there. I didn’t want to hear Stepan’s coaxes, Isabel’s giggles, her soft moans, and his guttural outburst.

Did she even get to climax?I quickly stopped myself from straining to hear more of her sweet moans and tried to focus on the task at hand, blocking out the sound of them altogether. Eventually, Stepan came out of the room in a rush, holding his jacket and boots.

“I have to leave,” he said, sliding his boots on and grabbing the keys to his car. “It’s urgent. I got a page from the guys at the hand-off site; some shit went down. Give Isabel a ride home.” He didn’t wait for me to answer before he closed the door and rushed off.

“What’s the magic word?” I asked no one, throwing another pack of powder onto the pile. He’d always been a prick, but lately, it wastoomuch. He made me want to knock the fuck out of him—and I was a peaceful guy, the man who never resorted to violence unless necessary. Recently, that was becoming less and less true.

Isabel crept out of the room, her hair slightly disheveled. My eyes lifted to her, taking in her appearance with a squeeze of my jaw, and she looked away in shame—right at the heap of drugs in front of me.

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