Page 43 of Sexting My Bratva Boss
So how the hell did she get stuck cleaning my sheets?
“Does it bother you to be here?” I ask out of the blue. Kashmere does a good job of looking like I didn’t just give her whiplash with the awkward, intrusive question.
“Of course not, Miss Wolfe.” She shapes the dough into a loaf and carefully tucks it into a bread pan.
“That’s impressive,” I murmur. “My grandma was a great baker. I never really took to it, I guess.”
Her eyes are kind, and suddenly I feel the urge to cry, pushing it down.
“I only learned to bake because my husband loves muffins, and it was getting a little expensive.”
A comfortable silence sets in, and after a bit I try again: “Shouldn’t you be… I don’t know. Coordinating all the employees that work under you, in an office somewhere? Overseeing scheduling, payroll, all that?”
This time, she doesn’t look up. Her voice has a cool edge to it. “I have time enough to do that, before I come here. I rely on my management team. They’re well trained.” She looks up, and the look in her eyes makes me feel guilty for pushing her. “I enjoywhat I do, Miss Wolfe. After all, I got into the service industry to serve.”
“I’m sorry, Kashmere. I don’t mean to be snippy, I just…” This is it; the make-or-break moment. If I tell her the truth about my situation, it could end badly—for me, for her. The loneliness I’ve felt for the past week settles in my chest, and I bite my lip. “I got let go from my job,” I explain. “I worked for Mr. Martynov as an accountant. He fired me and now, he expects me to just stay here I guess.”
I sit up, annoyance stoking the fire in me that hasn’t felt so active lately. “I mean, what am I supposed to do, just wait for him to show up?”
Kashmere is watching me carefully. I can’t quite tell, but have a feeling that shemightknow why I’m here… especially if she’s cleaning the sheets.
The sheets that Konstantin has me fisting every time he shows up, commands me to spread my legs, and pounds into me.
Ugh. I shouldn’t be turned on by the thought, especially with how frustrated I’ve been lately, but I am.
“Hmm. I understand; I’d have a hard time if I had to stop working, too.” Her head tips to the side. “Can you go out at all? It’s a beautiful day.”
“Itis.” The afternoon sun is streaming in through the windows, leaves chattering in golden and red hues outside. “I don’t know though… I got a message earlier that he’s coming here, so I need to be… available.”
A blush heats up my cheeks, and Kashmere gives me a knowing glance.
Yeah, okay. She definitely knows what happens when our boss shows up at night, after she goes home.
“It would be a shame if he were to arrive and you weren’t here.” Her tone is neutral. I nod along, distracted by memories of fall growing up—picking apples with my grandmother. Hotcider, hot chocolate, the brisk air. “Well, I need to check in on one of the nearby properties. You’ll be okay alone?” she asks, eyes twinkling. “I’ll probably just walk, and leave my car here.”
I stare, lips parted, as she gathers her things and leaves the bread for a final rise. Kashmere meets my eyes, puts her car keys on the kitchen island, and slips out the back door.
Surely she can’t mean…
In seconds, I’m up and clutching the keys. The city isn’t a far drive, and I’d love to walk the streets. Maybe find some comfy sweaters in a thrift shop or just pop into a café for a hot chocolate and a scone.
Feeling more energetic than I have all week, I slip on my kitten heels, take one last guilty look around the empty house, and lock the door on my way out.
Chrissy meets me at Spiced, a favorite café of ours, and I finally confess at leastsomeof what has been going on. Or at least, I put a spin on it.
“You’redatingourboss!?”she practically shouts, chai latte spilling from the to-go cup.
“Shhh!” There’s no way any of Konstantin’s associates arehereof all places, in a café the size of a shoebox, but still.
“I mean, I saw the photo of you two out for dinner…”
“And what?” I ask sarcastically, rolling my eyes. “You thought it was a business dinner?”
She covers her mouth, staring into the distance. “I can’t believe this Audrey. I can’t believe you didn’t tell me!”
I wince. “I know, I’m sorry. It just didn’t seem like a good idea while I was still there.” The words come out sour, bitter.
“Um, yeah. About that. You didn’t seem too happy about being let go, so I’m assuming that wasn’t a mutual choice?” She raises her brows.