Page 41 of Innocent Bratva Twins

But I do decide that calling her while she’s at the office isn’t the best choice.

So I’ll wait till I get home, and I know she’s home as well.

***

It’s eight o'clock when I pick up my phone, having dragged it out long enough and unable to muster up one more minute of patience. I dial her number.

Serafina answers the call after three rings and sounds out of breath.

“Hello?” she mutters into the phone. Her heavy breathing has me thinking about the cute sounds she makes when I lick her.

“Did I catch you at a bad time?” I muse.

“Oh my goodness. Nico. Um. No. I didn’t realize it was you.” She’s flustered.

“You’re trying to tell me you don’t have my name saved in contacts?”

“No, I do.” She laughs. “But I was in the shower and I ran—and then I almost slipped, but I grabbed the phone and answered it all in one movement, and honestly, I was just trying not to laugh when I answered. It felt like the perfect moment—you know, in the cartoons when—um. Never mind. I didn’t look to see who was calling. That’s what I’m trying to tell you.” She giggles quietly.

“So, you’re standing with the phone in your hand, dripping wet—naked?” My voice sounds deeper as the images of her body drift into my thoughts.

“Maybe,” she replies seductively.

“Mm. You’re making me forget why I called you.”

She starts laughing, and the beautiful sound snaps me out of my lustful dream.

“Maybe it was about the meeting tomorrow? Or an e-mail? Or that file?” she starts rattling off work lists.

“Does your brain ever switch off from work mode?” I ask, amused.

“Sometimes. Rarely. I like my job,” she says defensively.

“I know. It shows, because you’re so good at it. But I do know why I called you.”

“Well, don’t leave me in suspense.”

“Are you free for an early dinner on Saturday evening…?“

“I’d love to,” she answers too quickly. I can’t help laughing because she has no idea what she’s getting herself into. “Wait. Serafina. You should withhold your answer until you hear thefullinvite.”

“Oh. Okay,” she says, sounding nervous now.

“You might want to change your mind,” I say.

“Tell me,“ she huffs.

“Are you free for dinner on Saturday? I would like you to meet my family.”

The moment of silence that follows my invite is heavy, and my heart begins to pulse loudly in my ears.

“Sera—“

“Are you serious?” she asks, but I can hear the smile in her voice.

“I am. I would love for you to meet my brothers and my sisters.”

“That sounds—that’s really—yes, I would love to come to dinner on Saturday.”