Page 78 of Sexting the Bratva Beast

“What did you hear?”

Before she can answer, a sound from outside the bedroom door snags my attention.

“Hold on, Gi. I think someone is outside my room.”

I leave the phone on the nightstand and cross the room. My heart is pounding. I yank open the door and peek outside as someone wearing black pants and black Doc Martens rounds the corner at the other end of the hallway.

When I go back to my phone, Gianna is gone, and the line is dead.

20

ANDREJ

She didn’t say no.

She could have flat-out turned me down, got up, walked away, and asked me to put her on a flight back to Chicago.Which I’d have refused.

But she didn’t.

Sure, she didn’t say yes either. But I caught her with her guard down, and she needs time to consider the implications of marrying into a Bratva family.

The Bratva family potentially responsible for murdering her biological parents.

I didn’t pull the trigger, but I’m implicated by association.

Could I have played it differently? Should I have given her more information, wined and dined her in the banqueting hall, gone down on one knee in a designer suit and delivered a well-prepared speech? Cartier isn’t impressed by money and the trappings of wealth though. Actions speak louder than words, and I’ll never stop trying to prove to her what she means to me.

Snow crunches underfoot, hardened by the sub-zero temperatures that continue to fall overnight. I haven’t slept in thirty-six hours, but I can’t relax while Yuri Asimov is playing his waiting game. His goal will have altered with Cartier’s disappearance. He played his Ace too soon, and it backfired on him because his niece wasn’t interested in playing his game, and men like him alter the rules to suit themselves.

They’re not true Bratva.

Men like Yuri Asimov allow power and money to override everything else in life. They preach about the importance of family without truly believing it. They speak about revenge and loyalty and alliances, and all the while they’re envisioning their own rise to the top.

When I brought Cartier to Russia, I feared that she would get caught in the crossfire of a war that began generations ago. But now… Now my gut is telling me that the woman I’m madly, hopelessly, devotedly in love with has a target on her own back, and I won’t rest until I know that she is safe.

My security team has been with us for decades, running the Russian side of the operation since my father inherited the business. This should give me peace of mind; my father trusted them with his life, and the lives of his family.

But Leonid and I have the outlook of a younger generation, one in which switching allegiance has become as commonplace as switching grocery stores when a better offer comes along.

Trust no one.

Accept full responsibility.

It has served us well so far.

I peer back at the house. It’s a fortress. There is a route out of the property underground, but the only people aware of it are family. Me, Leonid, Victoria, and our parents. I’ll tell Cartier to use it as a last resort, but if—when—Yuri Asimov comes for me, I won’t run like a rat on a sinking ship. I’ll make sure that he gets what he deserves.

Then, Cartier will be free.

Because I want her to choose me. I want her to consider all her options, to have the freedom to go anywhere in the world and still choose me.

A figure emerges from the shadows of the trees, and my gun is raised to chest height, my finger on the trigger before the adrenaline kicks in.

Ivana.

Fuck!I need to get some sleep. Or caffeine. Or both.

I lower the gun. “I told you to get some rest.”