Page 16 of Axel (Belles & Bratva Beasts #2)

CHAPTER ELEVEN

RUBY

For three hours, I sit on a hard bench in the courtroom gallery and stare at where Axel’s dark hair meets the even darker tattoos hidden under his suit.

He rules behind the plaintiff’s table, ruthlessly defending his client, while his cold water and bergamot cologne weave into parts of me I didn’t know were open.

Or did Axel open them?

The case drones on, so I let my mind wander down “What The Fuck Lane.”

I’m still processing this morning—what he confessed, what I felt, what we shared, but mostly … what I fear.

I wasn’t out of breath from my run. I was panting at Axel’s desire for me. At his ripped body covered in ink. At his frighteningly hard cock in his shorts. At the smell of his expensive cologne and his feral, masculine sweat.

My god, he is a beautiful beast.

He let me see the tattoos on his chest, his abs. The child’s hands clasped in desperate prayer. A crying Virgin Mary, a mother in pain, inked over his abs. He wanted me to see more of him, and I did.

I’ve never felt so desperate for a man. A need he created by chasing me, and with everything he confessed about how he feels? I felt so taken and controlled, so powerful and wanted.

Axel is wildly intoxicating. He’s not always cold and cruel. He can burn hotter than I’ve ever felt with a man, and that scares me.

For a year, I was trapped in a trailer with a predatory man I didn’t trust. So, now, can I trust being trapped in a life with a passionate one?

Because both are dangerous in different ways.

Yes, Axel can be ruthless and scary. But it’s the flashes of his tenderness that lure me in.

How he wanted me to know he didn’t love Wren.

How he knew he hurt my feelings in the car.

How he asked me to go to the vet with him.

How he caught me unpacking and looked at me with such awe.

How he didn’t make me feel weak about my epilepsy.

His erotic joke was sweet. And he swore he’d never hurt me.

He confessed he wants more than to fuck me.

He wants everything with me?

That’s the danger.

Because what do I have to lose?

Everything. My job. My heart. My life. I’ve never known a man worth losing everything for.

Besides, even if he gives me everything he has, what do I have to give a rich and powerful man like him?

All I have is my past, pride, and piece-of-shit car.

The judge berates the landlord, the defendant, Bill Ratcliffe, who turns to glare at me. He knows I work for Axel, so I glare back and subtly lift my middle finger to my lips, kissing it with a fuck-you smile.

I make him seethe and turn around.

I make myself chuckle and realize … wait … I do have so mething to give.

I have skills and no fear. I can help Axel’s brother. I love Nick and Zar, too, and something about my steamy morning with Axel inspires me.

While his third case against Ratcliffe is called, I sneak out of the courtroom and find a quiet spot in the marbled hallway to use my phone.

A text from my worried sister greets me.

Rosé the Hosé

Where TF are you

You better be alive and scaring the shit out of me and not dead in a ditch

I’m upping my body count with my boss

I’m staying at his place

Are you faded

I’m not high and not 14

He’s laying pipe I like

Nuff said

I totally shipped this

Told you he had rizz

You’re boo’d up

OMG you’re not 14 either

Right. We’re adults so

…

I know what she’s typing. I know what Rose worries about.

I have my meds and he knows

I’m fine

You TOLD him?????

Bish, you ain’t fine

You in love

ICYMI I don’t do love

Gotta go

I pause. I’ve never spent the night away from my sisters. They know the risks of my disorder. They worry about me.

Love you

I promise I’m okay

I end our texts, and after thirty minutes, I have a dangerous and dirty plan.

The judge bangs her gavel as I push the swinging door open to the courtroom. “This court is in recess,” she rules. “You have your continuance. We’ll see you in sixty days.”

Axel offers his hand, helping Ms. Simpson to rise. By the time he escorts her to a waiting SUV outside the courthouse, we have one hour before our vet appointment.

With a flourish, he whips around, flashing a rare smile and an even cuter command, “Let’s get Sparky.”

I swear when it comes to that cat, Axel forgets he’s a cold-hearted dickhead, and that we almost dry-humped this morning.

No complaints.

“Okay, but I’m kind of starving, too.”

He waits for me to stride beside him, which is odd. I’m so used to his chase, but now he flanks me. He walks on the streetside, protecting me while we walk back to his place.

“If I buy you dinner tonight,” he asks, “will a protein bar get you through the afternoon?”

I’m shocked. “Are you asking me on a date ?”

He stops in the middle of the sidewalk, looming over me, but somehow, the dickhead makes it tender. “Ruby Jones, will you please have dinner with me tonight?”

Oh shit.

Who is this man? Giving me … what? Butterflies ?

“I’d reach for your hand and ask,” he doubles down, “but I don’t want watching eyes to know you’re more than my paralegal.”

Yep, they’re butterflies.

“Just so we’re clear,” I grin, “is this harassment or stalking?”

“Have dinner with me,” he smirks, “and make it both.”

“Only if you say yes to my plan to help Nick and Zar.”

“Which is?”

“You have to agree to agree to it.”

He laughs. “You need to start a podcast called, ‘Ruby Thinks You’re Stupid.’”

“Agreeing with me would be wise.”

The hot dickhead keeps laughing. “The wisest way to my grave.”

“So you don’t trust me?”

“Nope.”

“So you’re chicken shit?”

“Never.”

“Then agree to my plan, and let’s earn some trust together … for Nick and Zar’s sake.”

He licks his teeth, his glacial eyes hot with curiosity. “Fine. Have dinner with me, and I’ll hear your plan. ”

“You’ll agree to it.”

“What are you? Seal Team Six?” Even when he mocks, he’s sexy. “I don’t agree to a mission unless I plan it. But you’re smart and love Nick and Zar, too, so I’ll give it serious consideration.”

Okay, Axel didn’t stay alive this long, evading the mafia for whatever reason by being stupid. He’s super calculated and really looking like a yummy cuntsnack right now.

“Fine,” I huff. “Give me the protein bar, and we have a deal.”

Grinning, he doesn’t take his eyes off mine while he unflaps his briefcase, fishes around, and presents me with a peanut butter and jelly flavored bar. “Your favorite.”

“How’d you know ?”

“I’m the Seal Team Six of stalking.”

I laugh, munching on my bar for our afternoon stroll back to his place. Lucky for us, there’s a veterinarian’s office a few blocks from Axel’s place, so he carries Sparky there.

And don’t think I didn’t notice how he secured his gun into a back holster under his jacket before we left his house. He couldn’t carry it into a courtroom, but otherwise, he’s always packing.

Yeah, a gun and that monster in his pants.

Walking down the sidewalk with him holding Sparky, I notice the threat of other pussies adoring the sight of him, too.

Axel turns heads.

Lots of them.

“Explain to me your fashion choices,” I insist. “You wear custom suits from King Street, like so many lawyers, but yours are always dark. Like you wouldn’t be caught dead in seersucker.

You prefer conservative shoes and a briefcase but wear bling like a baller, carry a nine, and cover your body with dark ink under starched white shirts. So, what’s your true vibe?”

“If I answer, you have to answer my questions, too.” Sparky’s getting fur all over his charcoal jacket while we wait at the corner for the pedestrian light.

“Deal,” I answer.

Subtly, he looks over his shoulder, making sure no one hears before he turns and lowers his voice.

“Parts of me I hide to survive. I have to blend in, or I’ll be found. But there are parts of me I can’t deny. So, I wear them on my body and take the risk.

“Like my earrings. They’re diamonds made from my mother’s necklace. It’s all she had from her family when she was kidnapped and raped as a child bride at fourteen. She’s a strong woman, and I wear them in her honor.”

I nod, stunned by the totality of his story, his beauty, his honesty. “You hide all of that from your enemies?”

“No,” he answers, “I hide from my father.”

The light changes, but we don’t move. “Who’s your father?”

Axel pauses, letting his eyes search mine with that same intense look he had in the kitchen when he was about to kiss me. When I was suddenly afraid of how I felt for him.

“This is me trusting you, Ruby. This is me, trying to earn yours, too.”

I swallow. “I promise I’ll never tell.”

I won’t. I’d never betray Axel. Hate him? Yes. Come for him? Obviously. But rat him out? I’m too proud to be that kind of person.

“It doesn’t matter. My father has vicious ways of making you tell.” His voice drops even lower. “He’s Ruslan Kholodov, the head of the Russian Bratva.”

“It looks like you two will be parents soon,” the vet announces. “According to this ultrasound, she’s about fifty days pregnant.”

“So, in about ten days?” Axel asks about Sparky.

“Yes. Congratulations,” the vet proclaims…

But I’m still stuck on that whole Russian Bratva thing. That whole son-of-the-most-dangerous-man-in-the-world thing.

But like a worried dad, not an escaped Bratva prince, Axel is focuses on the cat. “Should we bring her here when she goes into labor?”

“You can,” the vet answers, “but it’s best not to move her.”

“Can we get a carrier for her?” I ask. “In case she likes it better than the box we got her?”

In case we have to escape in a hail of Bratva bullets and don’t want to leave Sparky and the grandkittens behind?

“We have everything you need in our shop off the waiting room,” the vet answers.

But when Axel tries to put Sparky in her new carrier, one pussy to another, I’m impressed. She hisses, scratching him. She doesn’t want to be trapped, either.

“Okay, okay,” Axel huffs at her. “I’ll carry you home.”