Page 16 of Sexting My Bratva Boss (Mafia Silver Foxes #1)

Konstantin

T he warehouse is an hour and twenty minutes outside of the city. The area is beautiful if you like wild things; the river with its white froth, trees as wide as four men, acres of field and far-off houses.

It reminds me too much of Russia, but without the desolation this season brings there. My stomach knots at the memory of being hungry. Of my mother shouting at one of her boyfriends when the heat was turned off. Of my brother crying.

The city pulls me back, as well as the malen'kiy volk . Tucked away in her house, safe, satiated hopefully. She’s had to wait another week for me to make a decision.

Whether or not I like the country doesn’t matter.

It’s the perfect place for a warehouse, and the large building looms as the SUV turns down a dirt drive.

In one week, it will be paved. In three, we’ll be moving high-end art through here for auctions.

And housing black market items here as well, in the depths of the hidden rooms that only two men other than me know about.

The driver opens the door of the SUV, and I step out, Lev close behind, coming around from the passenger side. He stands just behind me, silent, watching. Interestingly, the country doesn’t seem to make him nervous the way it unsettles me.

“Right this way, Mr. Martynov.” A young man in a tailored but cheap suit gestures toward the main entrance, all steel and glass. I watch approvingly as he demonstrates impeccable manners. Inside, the manager of the warehouse, Antosha, greets us.

“Mr. Martynov. It’s a pleasure to have you visit in the final stages.”

Taking in the surroundings, I nod toward the young man, who disappears around a corner. “Is that the boy whose father died in an accident at the Dubai site?”

“Yes,” Antosha confirms.

“And he’s doing well?”

“He is. We’ve made sure he and his mother are well taken care of. He’s bright; sharp. He realizes that the physical labor his father took part in is not the way he wants to go.”

A sadness settles over me. Despite the violence of my occupation, it’s hard when any of our men die, in accidents or otherwise. “Make sure he’s taken to purchase a new suit. Or rather, four; and shoes. At my expense.”

Antosha half-bows. “Of course, Mr. Martynov. Come, we can go to my office.”

At the very back of the building it’s possible to hear—and see, through three large glass windows—the airstrip that will bring the illegal goods in. A clear-cut path through the woods is being prepared by workers, creating easy transport right to the warehouse.

“To what do I owe this visit?” Antosha asks, sitting only after I’m seated. Lev remains by the door, his eyes taking in every inch of the new surroundings.

“I’m changing the plans. This location will have a direct accountant to answer to. She will be working off site, and will handle payroll, payment for goods and transportation, revenue.”

Antosha nods, not questioning the oddity of having an accountant directly connected to this one warehouse.

I could, if I wanted to, justify the choice: this will be one of the largest black-market houses on the east coast. We’re expecting revenue in the first year to touch just under five billion.

As an auction house, handling the cash will be complicated.

And it will give Audrey something to do, something to own. A way to feel utilized and engage her sharp mind.

However, none of my choices need justification.

“I’m assuming someone will reach out to set up the particulars?”

“Yes. Miss Belov will be in touch.”

A flash of surprise crosses his face at the mention of Olena.

Until now, I’ve let other managers handle the setup of this operation; handing it off to Olena means that it’s truly important.

And that the accountant is the important thing will not go unnoticed by Antosha.

He’s smart and won’t say anything; won’t ask any questions.

He only nods.

We spend a few minutes on updates, going over the main purchases I want to focus on in the first three months, naming some families overseas who might be interested in what we can bring in from Canada’s west coast. Less than half an hour after arrival, Lev and I walk back toward the SUV.

In the car I put the privacy glass up. This phone call is not one I’m looking forward to, and it’s unusual for her to be the last to know of these changes.

I tap Olena’s name, and it rings only twice before she picks up silently.

“Olena. There’s been a change of plans to the Hudson Valley Auction House.” Filling her in on the details, keeping it short, I can sense the growing tension over the line.

“And who is this accountant?” she asks.

When I don’t answer, she continues: “So then, this is a play to keep your pet entertained.”

“Watch yourself, Olena,” I snarl. Nerves make me quick to anger. It’s been over a month since I made Audrey mine.

Maybe it’s too late.

Maybe I can’t have an heir. Forty-eight looks good on me, but that doesn’t mean it hasn’t affected certain… parts of me.

I end the call with Olena, but the anxiety still festers in me, making my skin itch. That voice from all those years ago keeps sounding in my head, whispering darkly: Why would you deserve it? Why should you have happiness? You are nothing, and you will have nothing to live for.

My hand shakes as I make another call.

Audrey picks up, sounding sleepy. “Are you okay?” I ask.

“’m fine,” she murmurs, making something in me go soft at the airy sound of her voice. “Just tired. I took a nap.”

“I’ll be there in an hour,” I tell her. “Be ready.”

At the house, I gesture for the driver to remain in the car and open the back door myself. Audrey comes down the walkway, curious and wary all at once.

She looks gorgeous with her hair up in a tight bun, her thighs shown off in workout pants and a long sweater accentuating the color of her eyes.

Before she can duck into the car, I take her hand and turn her slowly, eyes dragging over her body.

“You’re stunning,” I murmur, satisfaction setting in at the rise of a blush on her chest.

“Thank you.” She sways forward, then seems to catch herself, sliding into the SUV. “Where are we going?”

Was she going to kiss me?

My gaze drops to her lips.

Would I let her?

It’s the one thing I’ve held back from. I’ll do anything, everything else to her—but kiss her.

“You’ll see.”

The driver pulls away, heading for the city. Audrey watches the suburbs go by and I watch her, looking for any sign that my plan might have taken root.

But she looks… gorgeous, as ever. No different than the first day I saw her. What would there be to look for? From what I’ve read, Audrey would notice the very first signs, and she hasn’t mentioned anything.

We pull up to a lavender and black Victorian on the outskirts of the city. It’s been impeccably restored, and the windows reflect the fluttering leaves of the trees. A sign out front reads The Vyatka Group, and when Audrey turns to me quickly, I know she recognizes the name.

It was one of the accounts she used to oversee.

“This is where you’ll work,” I explain. “It’s a short drive from the house, as you’ve seen. One of my men will pick you up every morning at 8 a.m. Your day will end at 3 p.m.” My eyes sweep over her, still hoping for a sign. “I want you to rest, not to overwork yourself. Understand?”

Her brows furrow, lips pursed, and I almost wish she’d stolen that kiss earlier.

“Um, Konstantin… I’m not a realtor.”

I point out the second floor of the building, explain that it’s office space for my staff to rotate through as needed. “But you will have a dedicated office. Anything you need. If you’d like to start planning today, here is the number of the office manager. She’ll get whatever you want.”

Audrey lunges across the car, wrapping her arms around my shoulders. I sit stock still for a moment, then let my arm slide around her waist, breathing in her scent: that vanilla, citrus, spice that stirs something in me.

I find myself longing for her bed at the country house. I’ve started to think of it as our bed, the one place I truly lose myself. In her, in the possibility of a future.

A tap on the privacy glass starts the car moving again. As we drive through the city, Audrey listens, enrapt, as I explain her duties as the accountant for the auction house. There’s a brightness I haven’t seen, a fire in her, since she confronted me at the Spire.

This is what I should’ve done all along: whatever it takes to make her happy. I find more satisfaction in her thorough questions and the way she squeezes my hand than the millions of dollars that roll into my accounts.

“Wait…”

The car stops and she realizes where we are. For a moment, something like fear flashes in her eyes. The Dog Ear’s banner flutters in the autumn breeze, and Audrey doesn’t move when the driver opens the door.

I get out, walk around to her side, and hold out a hand.

“You never finished shopping that day. I’d like to buy you whatever you want.”

Tentatively, she takes my hand and steps out. When we’re inside, she looks at me questioningly. “Where is everyone?”

The store is completely empty and impeccably kept.

Even I find the shelves compelling and look over the signs quickly for the reference section.

If she’s distracted perhaps I can find something on conception, on best practices for those trying to conceive…

my heart races at the idea of making a child with her, this woman whose hand is tucked into mine so easily as she gazes around us.

“The owners have been compensated for an hour’s time. I hope that’s long enough. Whatever you take will be paid for.” At my gesture, she grins and moves among the shelves, eyes scanning.

“My Nana would’ve loved this,” she laughs quietly, slipping out a book and cradling it in her arms. “She’s the one who got me started reading.

Well, she read to me from her books—all old classics mostly.

That’s the only thing, I could never talk her into trying anything new.

” She shakes her head, laughing again, and the sound breaks something inside me.

I only realize I’m staring when Audrey shyly drops her gaze.

“Sorry, I… I have a hard time not talking or thinking about her, and this just…” She shrugs.

“Don’t apologize,” I murmur, voice rough with grief of my own; thoughts of Mikhail and the things he loved are never far away.

“Even losing someone, they never really leave. You can find them…” I tip my chin toward the rest of the store, quiet and waiting for her, “…in places like this. Even when you aren’t looking. ”

Her eyes glisten for a moment, then she looks away. I worry that I might’ve said the wrong thing, but before I can leave her, Audrey slips her hand into mine again.

“Will you stay?” she asks quietly, so close that I can feel her words against my lips. “Tonight, will you stay with me?”

Drawing a knuckle gently down her jaw, I lean in enough to ghost my mouth over hers. When she sways forward, I let myself give in: capture her in a kiss, sink into the bliss of peace and stillness.

“If that’s what you want,” I murmur, ignoring the sensation that I can’t catch my breath.

I know that whatever she asks, I’ll do.

Whatever she wants, I’ll give her.