Page 47 of Sexting the Bratva Beast

“Why?”

Andrej broke a man’s jaw for dancing too close to me. He attacked an artist for kissing my hand. I don’t want to imagine what he’ll do to this man when he finds out that he knows about us.

His lips twitch, but there’s nothing pleasant about his smile. “Let’s just say that we are business rivals.”

“What kind of business?” I ask without thinking.

Now, I wish that I’d been more curious about what exactly Andrej and Leonid do. At least it would’ve provided a gauge to measure the accuracy of Yuri Asimov’s claims.

He sits back in his seat. “Shipping. Distribution. Haulage.”

Deliberately vague.

“Do you keep track of all your business rival’s personal affairs?”

His mouth twitches again; the guy has a serious aversion to smiling. “Not all, no. Our family and the Ivanovs go back a long way.”

I’m tempted to tell him that I’m not a part of his family, but I let it go. I’m still trying to process the idea of him tracking me and Andrej with a spyglass in one hand and a camera in the other. Does he have photographs of us together?

“Sounds a lot like stalking to me.”

“I know how it sounds.” He leans forward again, steepling his fingers and resting his chin on them. “But I can assure you that I have your best interests at heart.”

I shake my head. “You don’t even know me. You could’ve reached out to me in Florida, or in Montenegro, or when I first came to Chicago. But instead, you waited until I met Andrej before the big,I’m your uncle,reveal.”

I’m back on my feet.

“No, you might tell yourself that you have my best interests at heart, but this isn’t about me, is it?”

My chest is heaving with a mixture of emotions that are crushing my chest. The only thing I am certain of though, is that I need to get away from him. Then, I’ll figure out what to tell Andrej.

“Please sit down, Cartier.” His voice has softened a little, the abrasive edges smoothed over.

“Five minutes.” I sit down for a second time. “You have five minutes to tell me why you’re really here, and then I’m leaving.”

He takes a deep breath as if psyching himself up for what he’s about to say. “You’re right. I could’ve reached out to you before, but I gave up looking for you a long while ago. Then your name flagged up on my radar with Andrej Ivanov.”

“How?”

“It doesn’t matter.”

“It does to me.” I’m done with the evasive replies. If he wants me to listen, he needs to start being honest.

“I have contacts … within the Ivanov organization.”

“Spies you mean?”

He shrugs. “Spies, contacts, call them whatever you like.”

“Three minutes.” I have no idea how long he has left, but this conversation is making my skin crawl.

“When I said that we were rivals, it was a slight understatement.”

I knew there was something off with this entire conversation.

“The Ivanovs and the Asimovs are enemies.”

“Enemies?” I choke on the word, wishing that I’d ordered water instead of coffee when I arrived.