Page 42 of Sexting My Bratva Boss

Lev watches from the hallway entrance.

Audrey practically runs to the elevator. I swear on the feed I can see her shoulders shaking, though it isn’t detailed enough for that.

Then she’s gone.

It’s just past midnight before I let the day’s emotions flood in on me.

I’ve managed to keep them at bay through a meeting with my brigade leaders, each overseeing a territory of the city, and another with my informants.

I took a call from Dubai and spoke to the heads of my construction teams for project updates.

Yet still… my feelings for Audrey have been a wave barely kept at bay.

I stare at her name on my phone.

Malen'kiy volk.

Mylittle wolf.

Something in me is breaking as I sink into an armchair overlooking the city. My entire life in America, I’ve taken satisfaction in wielding control over others. In making them beg, and cutting their lives short. Making them pay.

Today’s episode with Audrey was satisfying… at first.

When I close my eyes, I see hers. The fear in them.

I want to destroy anyone who makes her feel that way. I want to be the kind of man to make her feel safe.

The phone rings twice before she picks it up, answering reluctantly. “Hello?”

She sounds sleepy, hushed. I imagine her in the bed: wrapped in the duvet, huddled up, scared.

“If you do what I say, I’ll protect you. But you can’t lie to me anymore Audrey. If you carry my child, I’ll never let anyone lay a hand on you. I’ll burn this city down to do right by you. Do you understand?”

There’s silence, but I know in the depth of the night that my words have sunk in.

I hang up.

Chapter 13

Audrey

It’s the kind of fall day that has me restless. Laying on the couch in the country house, I flip over onto my side—again—and keep reading a weathered copy ofWuthering Heights.But reading about the misty, moody moors just makes me want to get out into the crisp sunlight.

With a sigh, I stand and drag myself into the kitchen, sweeping the beige linen dress around my ankles. Kashmere is in there prepping dinner. One of my favorites, unsurprisingly: lasagna. I take a deep breath, catching the comforting scent of yeast too.

“Are you making bread?”

She smiles at me over her shoulder. “Yes. Is that okay? To go with dinner?”

“That’samazing.” Stretching across the island, I let my tired muscles tense and then relax, making a face at the knot in my back. Justhowdid I get so sore? From doing literally… nothing.

Kashmere shoots me a sideways glance. “Is there something I can get you, Miss Wolfe?”

“No, I’m fine, I’m just bored. Sorry, is it uncomfortable that I’m just in here watching?”

She shakes her head and gives me another small, kind smile. Eyes narrowed, I go back and forth in my head with a “should I/shouldn’t I” as she tumbles the dough out of the bowl and begins to knead it. I haven’t spoken to anyone from my personal life in a week, which I feel bad about—I shouldn’t keep ignoring Chrissy’s texts or giving her short answers. This isembarrassing, though, and definitely can’t tell the few people I’m close to just what I’ve gotten myself into.

Except… if anyone might understand, it’s Kashmere. From the dozens of questions, I pepper her with every day, I’ve found out that she’s worked for Martynov Global for fifteen years and oversees every single service crew in the Tristate area.