Page 6 of Sexting My Bratva Boss (Mafia Silver Foxes #1)

Konstantin

A udrey Wolfe opens the door, and I know, without question, that I’d kill for her.

Because the first words out of my mouth are: “ Who did this to you.”

Lips parted, she steps back as I follow her into the small fourth-floor apartment. Shutting the door behind me without looking, I stalk toward her until she’s backed up against a counter.

She’s gorgeous.

And hurt.

And I’ll kill whoever did this to her.

Bringing a hand up, I stroke the scrape that she’s tried to cover with makeup. She did a good job, but I know pain when I see it. She can’t disguise the swollen finger she’s trying to hide behind her back or the way she winces when she moves.

“Who did this to you?”

Her eyes drop to the floor.

I grip her chin with a thumb and forefinger, raising it.

“Answer, malen'kiy volk .”

Her brows knit at my Russian.

“My ex- boyfriend.” There’s anger in her emphasis of the “ex.” Good. If he had put out her fire, I would’ve made his future death much more painful.

Stepping back, I consider the situation. This must be why she didn’t come into work today. When I didn’t see her on the screen in my office, I’d assumed she was still trying to make her mind up about tonight.

Now I can see what the real problem was.

“I’ll deal with him after dinner,” I murmur, rolling my shoulders. Audrey glances up at me quickly, relief in her eyes as her body loosens from the stress of whatever she went through.

Smoothing down the front of her dress, she stands on tip-toe to look over my shoulder.

“You came just… by yourself?”

“Of course not, Miss Wolfe. I have men. Around. Watching.” Touching her chin lightly once more, I draw her gaze back to meet mine.

“I will ask them to stay and watch you . Make sure he doesn’t return.

Besides,” I say, turning and offering her my arm, “there are some things that I need to do personally. I have more experience than my men.”

A blush darkens her cheeks as I smirk down at her. It matches her dress, sleeveless, light and layered, a floral pattern spilling down her bust and past the cream belt that gathers it all at her waist.

Good. I want her thinking of yesterday.

I want her wanting more.

“You look gorgeous. I wasn’t sure you’d wear the dress I had delivered. I picked it out especially for you.”

At the door, I take a moment to slide my fingers down her bare back. Leaning in, I whisper, “But I’m happy you obeyed.”

I’m close enough to taste her lips if I want to. Audrey sways, her eyes half-lidded as I breathe in her scent. The apartment is small, cluttered lovingly in a way that makes the space between us feel incredibly small.

I could reach out and have her now, here, on the counter or the floor. I doubt she’d protest. Slipping my hand under the fabric, my fingers ghost over the rise of her ass, wanting to grab and knead it. Pull her closer.

“You have good taste, Mr. Martynov,” Audrey whispers back, her chest rising in slow, tortured breaths. “At first I thought it might be too revealing, but…”

“Mmm, you must be referring to the low cut.” I spin her abruptly, pulling her back against my body.

Despite our height different, she fits perfectly against me, her ass nestled against my thighs.

I let my hands ghost under her breasts, covered by narrow triangles of the dress, her cleavage beautifully on display.

It’s classy, tempting, promising all at once.

“You have nothing to be self-conscious of, Miss Wolfe. We should leave before I get distracted. I’ve worked up quite an appetite anticipating tonight.”

Taking her hips firmly, I turn her again so that we’re face to face. Her wounded hand is cradled between us. I take the other, reveling in the soft feel of her fingertips in my palm.

“Come.”

éclat never disappoints. The restaurant is splendid, every inch of the walls dripping in gold and elegance. It would almost be too much, except the owner, Julien Moreau, pushed it even further—to the very limits.

I watch Audrey take it in as we sit in the center of the cream-colored dining room, the gold surroundings giving her skin a glow that makes me want to reach out and touch it.

Leaning back in my chair, I let my foot trail against her leg. She jumps, winning a chuckle from me.

“Miss Wolfe. The serveuse is waiting.”

“Oh—I apologize.” Audrey turns her attention to the young woman waiting on us, whose eyes have already scrutinized her and flicked to me. She knows who I am, and though Moreau’s staff is impeccably professional, they gossip in the back.

Which is part of why I chose this place.

“I’ll have a white wine, please?—”

Lips parted, Audrey glances in my direction.

“I believe I still have a bottle of Domaine Leflaive here. We’ll take that.”

I complete the order by choosing both plates for us, ignoring Audrey’s look of contempt and then interest. With the dishes in French, and her interest in the restaurant, she hasn’t had time to look closely at the menu.

The server disappears and we’re left alone.

Each table is spaced far enough away to create a sense of intimacy, privacy. So, I decide to get right to business.

“Miss Wolfe?—”

“Audrey.”

She surprises me with the offer. And it means she’s giving in, whether she knows it or not.

I smile.

“ Audrey. I brought you here to discuss your future with my company.”

A mixture of relief and disappointment crosses her pretty features.

“And as my surrogate.”

Her eyes snap up to mine.

“I—you weren’t kidding…?”

Leaning forward, I promise her, “I never kid, Miss Wolfe.”

Audrey. I’ll save it for later, when I’m inside her, when I’m making her come.

“And I never make a threat without promising through. You took something of mine; you owe me something in return. And I want a child.”

Her face turns red as she glances quickly around the room, trying to figure out if anyone has heard my declaration.

“I’ve already had my lawyers draft up an agreement.” I place the folder on the table. “It’s simple: you’ll act as a surrogate under my care. You’ll carry my child to term, and birth him or her. Once the child—and you—are healthy, you are out of my debt.”

Audrey stares at me, her fingers wrapped around the stem of the wine glass that the server just brought.

“You can’t be serious, Mr. Martynov.”

“Call me Konstantin.”

She scoffs, looking down at the table. “You… you want me to get pregnant. Why me? You don’t know anything about me, or my family or genetics, or…”

I watch the realization take over her face as she remembers exactly who I am. Of course, I know all about her. I looked into her the very day I saw her on the construction site, in that mobile office.

“Come here.”

Her brows knit, and I gesture at the space beside me. When she doesn’t move, I growl again: “ Come here. ”

Audrey flinches, then stands, clearly embarrassed at drawing attention. A few other guests are watching passively. They know better than to show too much interest in my affairs. Audrey awkwardly moves the elegant chair to my side, and slips her curves into it once more, putting her within reach.

I lean over casually, a hand on her thigh.

My fingers slowly work the fabric up her lower half as I explain: “I know enough. I know all that I need to know. And I’ve chosen you.

So, your options are, either agree… or take a different kind of punishment.

You’ll find, Audrey, that being close to me can be very… pleasurable.”

My fingers touch skin, and I slide my hand between her thighs, grazing her center. Her silk panties are already damp. “Good girl,” I murmur, feeling the throb of heat at the praise.

She licks her lips.

“I can bring you pleasure, but I can also bring you pain. It’s your choice.”

Sitting back, I pull my fingers away. She lets out a small gasp and clamps her legs shut tightly. The server arrives with our food—blanquette de veau for myself, sole menuière for her—and Audrey’s lips are pursed until she leaves.

When she speaks, her questions are direct, logical… and I know I have her in my snare.

She won’t say no.

She can’t.

“So, how exactly would we do this Mr. Martynov? Artificial insemination I’m assuming?”

I cut her off with a shake of my head. “No, no, malen'kiy volk. I’m a man who likes to do things the right way. To do them myself.”

My eyes drag down her body, what’s visible next to me: her curves tight against the dress, the swell of her breasts in the low-cut bodice, her ass filling the seat.

“You… you mean…”

I dip a finger into the veal sauce and raise it to her mouth. “Try it.”

She’s caught off guard, looking first at my eyes and then at the offering. Once again, she proves that she’s capable of obeying me, even with hate in her gaze.

Audrey leans forward, opens her mouth, and lets my finger ghost over her lips. She delights me by flicking her tongue out to taste the creamy sauce.

“I mean,” I whisper, leaning in and making a show of moving her hair behind her ear with my other hand, “that I plan to take you to bed, tease you until you’re begging, fill you with my seed, and hold those pretty little thighs of yours shut until it takes.”

When I pull away, her eyes are hazy with lust and confusion.

“Eat, Miss Wolfe. You can look over the contract tonight.”

My tone brooks no argument; she gives me one more glance before picking up her fork and lifting a piece of flaky, delicate fish to her lips.

Now that I know what they feel like wrapped around my finger, I’m determined to feel them wrapped around something else.

My little wolf is back.

She’s silent on the car ride to her apartment, noticing the car tailing us with two of my soldiers, and likely the car pulling away from her apartment building—making sure it’s safe for her to enter.

Before I can open her door, Audrey does it herself and stumbles out, not careful enough on her still-bruised ankle. She attempts to walk right by me without a single look.

I reach out and catch her wrist, holding firm.

“Not even a thank you.”

She stands on the sidewalk, trying not to let her fear show. But I can see it just under her skin as my eyes trail down her taut body once more.

“Thank you,” she cuts out, “but I don’t think I’m interested in this arrangement. I’ll find a way to pay you back.”

I laugh.

“Whether or not you can return the money, it’s not what I want.”

Stepping forward, I close the space between us, jerking Audrey against my body. The streetlights spill across her skin, making it look warm and inviting.

“I’m tempted to take you upstairs and desecrate your little apartment. Show you exactly what I want. You think I don’t know how wet you were earlier, when I touched you under the table? Imagine what I can do to you when we’re alone.”

She pulls away.

I let her go. It might be what’s needed to make her feel like she has control, an option, even if she doesn’t. If she says no, I’ll hunt her down and take her. But I’d prefer her to come willingly.

“I’m not interested,” she chokes out half-way to the door, fumbling for her keys.

“It doesn’t matter if you’re interested,” I call after her. “Everyone in the city knows you’re mine, Miss Wolfe, after tonight. They’ll be coming after you one way or another. If you want protection—if you want to stay alive—you’ll come to me.”