Page 17 of Sexting the Bratva Boss (Text to Touch)

Eva

I was completely stunned when Ruslan suddenly pulled me into his arms.

Usually when he came to set, he'd just sit quietly and watch me film scenes or run lines.

But today, after my scene partner Ricardo screwed up his lines for the third time, I was standing in the corner trying to get back into character when Ruslan walked onto set and immediately wrapped me in his arms.

"Ruslan?" My hands were still frozen mid-air from his unexpected move.

He didn't say anything, just held me tighter like he was afraid I might disappear. I felt like he was trying to meld me into his bones. I gently patted his back, trying to calm him down.

"Did something happen?" I asked softly. The way he was holding me was heartbreaking.

"Nothing," he said quietly. "I just need you here with me."

I froze, something warm spreading through my chest. Ruslan never said things like that. He was always so controlled around me, but right now he seemed like a lost child clinging to the only thing that made sense.

One of the crew members came over to tell us we'd wrapped for the morning and could break for lunch. I nodded at him.

"You're holding me so tight I can barely breathe," I tried to lighten the mood with a joke, giving Ruslan a gentle push.

He finally loosened his grip, but his eyes still held that reluctant look. Watching him, I suddenly realized this man wasn't as unbreakable as he appeared.

"Come on, let's grab lunch," I said, hoping some food might improve his mood.

"Is that an order?" He raised an eyebrow, but couldn't hide the small smile tugging at his lips.

"You can call it an invitation." I gave him a mischievous grin.

I usually just ate the catered box lunches on set, so I didn't know much about the local restaurants. Ruslan drove while I looked out the window and randomly pointed to a French place that looked decent enough.

The restaurant was called "Petite Amour"—I didn't speak French, but from the outside, it looked like a normal bistro.

The moment we stepped inside, I immediately understood why the host had that knowing smile when he saw us. The atmosphere was intensely romantic—soft lighting filled the entire dining room, red roses and candles decorated every table, and almost every customer was a couple sitting close together.

Ruslan obviously noticed this too, his eyebrow arching slightly.

The host led us to a corner booth that offered more privacy. When a couple who'd finished their meal walked past us toward the exit, Ruslan's hand naturally settled on the small of my back, guiding me out of their way. His warm palm burned through the thin fabric of my dress.

"This place," I said as we sat down, looking around with an embarrassed laugh, "is way more romantic than I expected."

"It's popular," Ruslan glanced at the couples around us and picked up the menu. "If you're uncomfortable, we can go somewhere else. "

"No, this is fine," I answered quickly. "I just didn't realize—it's okay, I like French food."

The waiter poured us champagne and moved to another table. Ruslan raised his glass, his mood much calmer than before.

"To wrapping your first major role soon," he said.

I smiled and clinked glasses with him. "Thanks, though I have a feeling things are about to get really busy."

"It's going to be successful," Ruslan said with certainty. "Your performance will make sure everyone remembers you."

"You sound pretty confident about that."

"I never bet on uncertain outcomes," he sipped his champagne, the corner of his mouth curving up. "Whether it's business investments or other matters."

The implication in his words made my cheeks flush. It was strange—even after we'd been as intimate as two people could be, he could still make me blush like a schoolgirl with just a few words.

Just then, the waiter returned with a smile, holding an elegant menu.

"Good afternoon, sir and madam," he said with a charming French accent.

"Welcome to Petite Amour. I'm Louis, your server today.

For couples dining with us today, I highly recommend our exclusive Lovers' Tasting Menu.

From appetizer to dessert, each dish represents a different stage of love.

And couples who choose this menu receive a complimentary bottle of our reserve rosé champagne, plus the opportunity to sign our Wall of Love.

" He finished with a look of pure blessing directed at us.

I could feel my face burning. I wanted to crawl under the table.

Us? Lovers? I instinctively looked at Ruslan, expecting him to politely but coldly decline this ridiculous suggestion.

But to my complete shock, he didn't even blink. He didn't even look at the menu, just shifted his gaze from my bright red face to the waiter and said in the most natural tone, "Sounds perfect. We'll take it."

The waiter's smile grew even brighter as he bowed and walked away .

"You—" I stared at him in disbelief. "We're not—"

"Not what?" he interrupted, leaning forward slightly. Those blue eyes looked especially deep and seductive in the candlelight. "When in Rome, do as the Romans do, Eva. We're sitting here, so we should experience everything this place has to offer, don't you think?"

I was completely speechless, so I grabbed my champagne flute and took a large gulp to hide my flustered state.

Watching my embarrassment, his smile deepened. "Now tell me—have you had boyfriends before? Didn't any of them bring you to places like this?"

He'd seen right through my fake composure.

Yes, I'd had a boyfriend. He was the quarterback on my high school football team who took me to games where he stared at the field the entire time, not even noticing when I got angry at being ignored and left.

He liked taking me for discount tacos so he could save money for new football gear, completely oblivious to the fact that I couldn't handle spicy Mexican food.

A pretty immature ex, all things considered.

But looking into Ruslan's probing eyes, I decided not to make it easy for him.

"I had," I admitted frankly.

Ruslan paused, and I smirked. I'd given Ruslan my virginity, but that didn't mean I'd never dated before.

I leaned forward slightly, mimicking his earlier posture, and lowered my voice so only we could hear. "What's wrong? Disappointed to hear I've been with other men, Ruslan?"

He was quiet for a moment, then laughed—a rich sound that came from deep in his chest. His hand reached across the table, and he traced my cheek with his knuckle.

"No, Eva. I'm not disappointed at all," his voice carried an edge of danger. "I'm just grateful they were all incompetent losers who didn't deserve you."

After lunch, Ruslan drove me back to the set .

We both got swept up in our busy schedules—me with filming wrapping up, him with expanding the company into new ventures.

Another exhausting day.

By the time I finished shooting and got back to the mansion, it was already 11:30 PM. Ruslan wasn't home yet.

I was about to take a shower and go straight to bed when my phone rang. It was Mom.

"My sweet baby!" Mom's warm voice came through the phone. "How are you doing, honey?"

"I'm good. The show's almost wrapped," I said, standing on the balcony. "How about you? How's your health?"

"I'm doing great, don't worry about me. I picked up a few wedding dress orders lately, so I'm making some extra money." Her voice was full of optimism. "Oh, and Martha next door showed me your picture—she said you were in a magazine! My daughter's going to be famous!"

I laughed. "That was just a tiny group photo, Mom. I was barely visible on the edge."

I knew what she was talking about—a cast photo from when I'd had a tiny role in something else. I'd cut it out of the magazine and kept it as motivation.

"But it was still a magazine!" she said proudly. "I told everyone in town that my daughter's going to be a big star."

We chatted about hometown gossip for a while—she told me the neighbor's son got married, the church roof was leaking, and a new bakery had opened downtown. These seemingly ordinary details made my heart ache with homesickness.

"Mom, I really miss you," I couldn't help saying, my voice getting thick.

There was a brief silence, then Mom's warm response: "I miss you too, sweetheart. But I'm so proud of you. You're chasing your dreams, and that's what matters most."

"Thank you, Mom," I said softly. "I won't let you down."

My eyes got misty. Those encouraging words were like a lighthouse in the darkness, guiding me forward.

We talked for a few more minutes before reluctantly hanging up .

After ending the call, images of home flooded my mind—our tiny yard, Mom bustling around the kitchen, me as a little girl chasing butterflies in the garden.

Suddenly, I was enveloped in warm arms.

"When did you get back?" I asked, turning around in surprise.

"Not long ago," Ruslan said, then just held me without saying anything else.

I leaned into his embrace, closing my eyes and feeling his heartbeat and breathing. All my exhaustion and sadness seemed to melt away in his arms. I loved being held like this, like the whole world had narrowed down to just the two of us.

We both stayed busy over the next few days.

Until one evening, when I dragged my tired body back to the mansion. The whole drive home, I'd been thinking about Mom, about home, about all those times that felt so far away now.

I pushed open the front door, and a familiar aroma hit me immediately. I froze, hardly believing my eyes.

In the living room, Mom was sitting on the couch with a huge smile, looking right at me. The coffee table was covered with dishes, and the whole place smelled like home.

"Mom?" I could barely trust my eyes, my voice shaking.

"Sweetheart, you've some weight," Mom stood up and opened her arms.

I ran to her and threw my arms around her, tears immediately streaming down my face.

"How are you here? When did you arrive?" I sobbed.