Page 53 of Sexting the Bratva Beast

Someone climbs aboard.

I’d recognize the dark eyes and the scar on his top lip from a hundred miles away.

Andrej.

“Cartier?” His eyes scan the bus and settle on me almost instantly like magnets drawn to each other.

I sink back into my seat, my blood gushing in my ears and making it hard to think.

How did he find me?

Then he’s standing right there, and my heart is trying to leap from my rib cage because it knows what it wants, and the world seems to move in slow motion as I peer up at him.

“Come back with me, Cartier.”

He offers me his hand across the woman sitting next to me, and I hear her murmur, “Aw,” like this is that scene in all good romcoms when the male protagonist realizes what is missing from his life, and the audience knows they’re going to get their happy-ever-after.

Only this is real life, and happy-ever-afters don’t work that way.

I can’t move. My heart is screaming at me to jump the fuck out of this seat and kiss the super-hot bad guy. But my head is still hearing gunshots in Gianna and Leonid’s home because of me.

“How did you find me?”

He smiles. “I asked a few questions. Please, Cartier. At least give me a chance to explain.”

“Go and talk to him, love,” my travel companion says.

She must be in her sixties, with gray hair that was once blond styled into a neat bob. She’s wearing tight jeans and a sparkly sweater, a cool grandma who probably devours romance novels in her spare time too.

“I know about Yuri Asimov.” My voice sounds thin and reedy, smothered by the purr of the engine and the air conditioning running through the bus. “I know what you are.”

“What’s going on?” This comes from the rear of the bus. “Is he going to propose?”

Andrej smiles, and every part of my body clenches with anticipation and desire. “I just want to talk to you. Please? Then, if you want to stay on the bus, I won’t stop you.”

“Can’t say fairer than that, love.” The gray-haired woman nudges my arm with her elbow and leans closer. “If it was me, I’d have been yanking open that door before the driver could hit the button.” When I remain silent, she adds, “Go for it, sweetie. Life’s too short for silly arguments.”

If she only knew.

But Andrej’s hand is still waiting for me, and my heart skips a beat when I place my palm against his and stand up.

Then, as in all good romcoms, everyone else on the bus cheers and claps and whoops for the heroine who got her man.

14

ANDREJ

My heart fuckingsoars when Cartier gets off the bus with me.

When I found out that Yuri Asimov had gotten to her, I expected the worst. It’s how we live. Expect the worst and plan accordingly. But traffic cameras showed her taking a Lyft to the bus station, and the rest was easy.

But when we’re standing on the roadside, I see it in her eyes.

Fear.

He said enough to make her see me through wary eyes. The damage is done. And it’s going to take an atomic fucking bomb to tear those barriers back down.

She trusted me. Now, she thinks that I broke that trust to finish what our families started generations ago.