Page 43 of Sexting the Bratva Beast

In the past maybe. But not anymore.

What I can’t figure out is why Ivana thinks that she can interfere in my life.

Why now?

Why Cartier?

“It might sound cliché, and you’ve probably heard it all before.” Jeez, I’ve never been so desperate for someone to believe me as I am now. “But I’ve never wanted anyone the way I want you.”

A smile tugs at the corners of her mouth.

“Name a romantic gesture, and I’ll beat it by a million miles for you.”

She’s chuckling now, and some of the tension eases from my spine.

“I’ll do whatever it takes to prove that you’re mine. And I’m yours.”

She smothers her amusement by sucking on her lip. “Whatever it takes?”

“Name it.”

“Will you cut the ends off the flower stalks and arrange them in the vase?”

I glance behind me at the blossoms in the sink. If my family’s enemies could see me now, they’d piss all over our business before I could even blink.

But they’re not here, and I’m not about to lose the most beautiful person to ever walk into my life.

“Not sure about my flower arranging skills, but I’ll give it a bash.”

I slide a knife from a hook on the wall, spread the flowers across the counter, and start slicing through stalks. It must be a picture of domesticity, me standing at one counter, while Cartier finishes preparing the food and drinks for the residents. I could get on board with helping out more often if it makes her happy.

Which is why I’m caught off-guard when a voice says, “Can I help?” from the kitchen doorway.

It’s familiar. A voice from the past. One that I didn’t expect to ever hear again.

I spin around to find the woman staring straight back at me as if she’s seen a ghost.

She doesn’t realize that I’m the one who is looking at the specter.

“Elena?” I say at the same time as she whispers, “Andrej?”

Cartier’s gaze hops back and forth between us. “You two know each other?”

I hear it in her voice: the suspicion, the mistrust, every reason she ever had for avoiding men until I tore down her walls. It’s all bubbling under the surface like molten lava thanks to Ivana.

Elena looks nothing like the woman who was once engaged to my brother Leonid. Painfully thin, her cheekbones could cut glass, there are dark shadows circling her eyes, and her once lustrous hair hangs limply over her shoulders. She looks hollow. Broken.

And something inside me snaps when she says, “I was engaged to his brother Leonid. A long while ago.” As if she recognized the silk ropes binding me to Cartier and wanted to put the record straight.

“Leonid?” Cartier blinks.

“How is he?” Elena asks. Even her voice is a shadow of the woman I remember.

“He’s married,” I say. “He and his wife just had twin baby girls.”

Too much fucking information because Elena’s eyes fill with tears.

She blinks hard. Forces a smile. “I’m pleased for him. Will you tell him that, Andrej? Will you tell him that I’m happy for him?”