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“Sorry, boss. None of the messages you sent me told me your preferred drink.”
“Good music. Good drinks.” He grins. “Delicious manager.” Something spikes in me. The ice in the glass I’m holding crackles. “Careful,” I snarl through tight teeth.
“Is that how you say hello to me?” he asks lightly. “With a question about another man?”
I’ve known it since the first second I laid eyes on her: she’s mine. And if she doesn’t accept it yet—well, then… she will. In time.
Perhaps she’s back to denying what’s between us. Pity. I’m not finished with her yet.
“You didn’t want to get involved with your boss.” His hands glide to my hips and pull me into him. “Well, you just quit. Guess I’m not your boss anymore.”
“A good woman can be an asset, if you handle things properly.” “Shannon is still listening in, isn’t she?” “Doesn’t make it untrue.”
Hannah has yet to understand that. She also has yet to understand that she’s tasted the bittersweet poison of the Bratva world now. And once you do that, there’s no going back.
“Let me in.” “What? No. Why? What are you even doing here?” “We need to talk.” “Talk about what?” “Who’s in there?” I ask instead of deigning to answer her question. “None of your business,” she retorts swiftly. “Go away.” “Not a chance,” I growl. “Open this door. I won’t ask again.” Silence. Silence. More silence. I lean in nice and close, so she can hear my acidly pleasant snarl. “Or I’ll kick it down myself, if you’d prefer.”
The motherfucker who thought he could touch what’s mine. He’s smart enough to look nervous, but not smart enough to run. Reasonably muscled, average height, light brown hair, sharp nose I’m longing to break to pieces. I grab him by the collar, shove him to the wall, and hiss in his face, “You must have a fucking death wish, mudak.”
“Gavriil, please!” I cry out. “There’s no reason to do this to him.” “Fucking you isn’t reason enough?” Gavriil snarls.
“What,” I hiss, “the hell was that?” Gavriil’s scowl deepens. He looks many things—enraged, murderous, gorgeous—but “sorry” is not one of them. “Funny. I was about to ask you the same question.”
“Even if he was what you’re suggesting he was, that’s none of your business. My life is none of your business!” He takes a step forward, a smirk playing on his sculpted face for the first time since he bull-rushed into my apartment. “No?”
