Broken Whispers (Perfectly Imperfect, #2)

by Neva Altaj

A lot of women from our circle were eager to lure the Bratva’s Butcher into their bed, but they became significantly less eager when I presented them with the rules: only remove enough clothes to get the job done, strictly from behind, and no touching of any kind.

Because reasons.

“Sergei dropped by yesterday when he heard you got shot.” I raise my eyebrows “Here? What for?” “Yep. Stormed in, asked about you, told me to pass you a message, then left.” “What message?” “He wants you to text him the list of people who were involved in you getting shot so he can kill them. He said he’s free this weekend.” I sigh and shake my head.

“I love when you pretend you’re docile.” He whispers in my ear and starts unbuttoning my jeans.