Page 17 of Sexting My Bratva Boss (Mafia Silver Foxes #1)

Audrey

E ven with my eyes closed I know the windows are open. The birdsong is louder, clearer, and I can smell fall: earthy, smokey, hinting at the rich loam under layers of leaves and the neighbor’s woodstove.

There’s a warmth closer that I gravitate toward.

Turning over, I burrow further into the bed.

Konstantin is like an ember. He gives off heat that draws me like a moth, and I can’t help opening my eyes and slipping an arm over his waist. There’s something in me that obsesses over the dips of each muscle, the trail of hair that leads down, beneath the sheet.

His cock twitches with interest and I stifle a laugh.

It’s crazy to think that once I feared this man. I mean, genuinely feared him.

Every single time I stole money out of his accounts, found a way to hide the transfers, the sense that I was a prey animal never left me. I was always waiting for him to notice.

Waiting for him to find me.

Sure, that he would destroy me.

Konstantin takes a deep breath and stretches, muscles tensing deliciously under my curious fingers.

I find what I’m looking for and wrap my hand firmly around his shaft, feeling it harden to steel beneath my touch.

There’s something so powerful about having him like this, about the way he fucks me and owns me.

His eyes barely open. But his arm shoots out, wraps under my waist, and pulls me on top of him.

Right away I can feel his hardening cock nestled between my thighs, and it makes me wet with anticipation.

As Konstantin grumbles a “Good morning,” I feel it more than hear it from the depths of his chest.

That’s when I realize…

What I’m feeling isn’t just lust. It’s not just hazy, dopamine-induced attraction.

I don’t just want Konstantin Martynov physically.

Somewhere deep down inside, a part of me longs for this. Waking up next to him. Being wanted, touched, and cherished. Wanting it to be more than just physical.

This is just another job, a small voice whispers in my head as Konstantin cards his fingers through my hair. All you are is a surrogate; somewhere for him to plant his seed.

And when he gets what he wants, you’re gone.

You asked for it yourself.

I stop breathing, wishing the feeling away—the feeling of affection that’s burying itself deep inside me.

“Um, I’m going to get up,” I mumble, sliding carefully off of him and standing up.

He stares up at me, his dark brown eyes flashing caramel in the morning light.

“Audrey—”

“I just need to go to the bathroom. And I’m starting work today, I shouldn’t be late,” I say lamely, disappearing into the bathroom.

I am starting work today, but there’s no need to rush—it’s 6:45 a.m., and I’m pretty sure Kashmere made lunch for me.

I already know there are scones, cream, and fruit downstairs.

She doesn’t usually come in before noon when Konstantin stays here; I’m not sure how she knows.

He must text her, or have someone reach out to her, since last night was definitely unplanned.

I stare at myself in the mirror, tousled and sleepy. My chest aches realizing that I look happy, calm, dare I say fertile? Ugh. Healthier might be more accurate; definitely healthier than I looked when I was putting up with Sal and stealing from my boss instead of sleeping with him.

With a sigh, I run the water to drown out my thoughts. Somewhere in the bedroom Konstantin is making noise, and all I can do is pray that he doesn’t come in here and make me feel all loved up. I don’t think I could take it.

Fifteen minutes later, the bedroom is empty.

“Oh,” I whisper, the air going out of me.

I should be happy he left. So why do I feel so bereft?

Dressing quickly, I wiggle into a wool pencil skirt and a simple ochre blouse.

No heels today since I’m not sure if there’s an elevator in the old Victorian, and don’t want to chance narrow stairs.

Nana used to work for a company in a Victorian house, and she always complained about her knees at the end of the day.

Another pang in my chest. When did I start feeling so lonely? Or rather, when did it start bothering me like this?

Downstairs, the sound of silverware makes me freeze in the foyer. I turn the corner slowly and head toward the kitchen.

Maybe Kashmere did come in? Maybe Konstantin was planning on leaving all along and told her to get to work.

But instead, I find him in the kitchen, spooning cream onto a scone.

He looks up, eyes dark again and locking me in place. Something in me clenches at the look he gives me; the juxtaposition of such a hard man delicately swirling sweet cream over the baked good, a pile of strawberries in a bowl next to him.

God, I hate how much I want this.

“I don’t have time to eat,” I say, hearing the irritation in my voice and wincing internally.

Konstantin goes still. He watches me hurry to the fridge and dig around for the lunch Kashmere packed. A hummus sandwich, fresh grilled veggies making my stomach growl.

I hope he didn’t hear that…

It’s obvious when I turn around that he did. Konstantin’s eyes narrow, and this must be how it feels to be on the receiving end of being hunted down by him—the leader of a crime syndicate.

“Did something upset you?”

His voice is frosty, forearms flexed as he leans against the counter.

“No,” I answer shortly. “I just need to get going.”

I glance out the window, but the car isn’t here yet of course. Won’t be for another forty minutes at least. There’s definitely time to eat, time to play house, time for him to fuck me right here on the counter if he wants to.

My desire for him throbs at the thought and I push it down.

“Audrey.” He catches me by the wrist, making me drop the pretty floral lunch bag. I huff and try to step away, but Konstantin pulls me close.

Not the way he did this morning, in bed.

He’s glaring down at me. Angry.

I know why; I’m acting crazy. Irrational. Pushing him away when I practically begged him to come last night, figuratively and literally…

“We need to talk,” he growls.

“I don’t want to talk.”

“Too bad.” He jerks me closer. I let out a pained sound, but it doesn’t hurt; not physically, at least. I don’t want to talk. I don’t want to get to know him better, or let him in.

I don’t want to get attached and then leave… just like I requested.

A one-way ticket to the west coast.

A child left behind.

Is it freedom if all I ever think about is this place is him, and our potential child?

“I wanted to give you time to calm down,” Konstantin says. “You were scared. When they came after you. But I need answers, Audrey. I need to know who Sal Imperi is to you, and why you were working with him.”

“I wasn’t working with him?—”

It’s not a lie, not exactly.

Konstantin doesn’t like my tone. He calmly puts a hand on my throat, his thumb in the dip between my clavicles. It grounds me, but it shouldn’t. I shouldn’t like to be held like this, steadied, made to obey.

“I wasn’t working with him,” I grind out, teeth clenched. My eyes search his; I know he isn’t letting me walk away from this conversation.

He gave me this job, and he can take it away. Doesn’t matter if I’ll be late. He can just fire me all over again.

Make me disappear, if he wanted to.

Could he do that? To someone he’s been buried inside? Someone he’s commanded to come, over and over?

“I… I borrowed money,” I whisper, watching his walls crack just a little. “I borrowed money from Sal. I had to. I met him while my grandmother was sick, and he took advantage…”

His eyes light with anger and I hurry on, wanting to take the focus away in case he does something stupid, like go after Sal to finish him off this time.

“When I started seeing him and he offered the money for her hospice care, I thought he was being nice. Caring. I didn’t realize it was the mob’s money, and I wasn’t thinking, I couldn’t let my Nana go into an institution. She wanted to stay home.”

I trail off, the memories flooding in. I’ve worked so hard to keep them away for the past year, but now I feel it all over again: the grief of mourning someone before they’re gone.

Nana had always been so strong, opinionated; she would have hated Sal if she’d been in her right mind.

But back then, when she looked at me, she looked through me.

The pain took her away before she ever really passed.

“A few months after her funeral, Sal made it clear that I had to pay back the money. With interest.”

When I don’t say any more, afraid of what other secrets I might spill, Konstantin says: “So you started working for me.”

“Yes.”

I don’t say that it was Sal’s idea, that he got me the job at the construction site.

I don’t say that he’s the one who casually suggested I could skim money, little by little. That a man like Konstantin Martynov wouldn’t miss a couple grand.

I don’t say that the interest caught up quickly, and “little by little” wasn’t enough.

“You didn’t finish paying the debt,” he says rather than asks.

I nod.

“Is that why he keeps coming for you?”

,I nod again, pursing my lips tight to keep the other half of the truth in, that for some reason, Sal wants Konstantin. It’s clear now that getting to Konstantin has always been his goal.

But why? Surely Sal’s boss can’t be stupid enough to try to take out the leader of the Martynov empire?

Letting his hand drop from my throat to my chest, then to my waist, Konstantin slips two fingers into the waistline of my skirt. He tugs it, pulling me closer gently. His lips ghost my ear.

“Do you want to go back to him?” he whispers. “Do you miss him?”

I shake my head, throat thick with emotion.

That’s the last thing I want.

Nipping my earlobe, Konstantin turns me until I’m backed up against the counter. I feel like a prey animal again, body trembling.

I like it.

“If I find out that you’re with him, I’ll gut him. I’ll make you watch. And then I’ll make it clear that you’re mine, malen'kiy volk. Do you understand?”

“I… I don’t want him,” I stutter, pressing my thighs together to try to relieve the pressure of how badly I want him right now. How badly I want him to claim me.

“I just want you,” I whisper.

Konstantin pulls back, frowning at my confession. I can’t help myself and let the rest pour out: “I’ve wanted you since I started working at the Spire,” I admit. “Even when I was with Sal, all I could think about was you.”

He steps away, eyes scanning me as if looking for a lie.

He won’t find one.

“You’re not telling me everything,” he finally grunts. I crouch down to pick up my lunch bag, not attempting to answer. He’s right; I’m not telling him everything.

I can’t tell him the truth—that I’m starting to fall for him.

The sound of a car arriving draws our attention. Konstantin slicks back his hair, fingers dancing down his buttons quickly.

For a moment, I imagine an alternate reality where he comes to me, kisses me. Promises to celebrate my first day when I get back by stripping off my clothes and making me come on his face.

But reality is harsh; he barely gives me a second glance before striding toward the front door, opening it, and disappearing.