Page 23 of Surprise Bratva Daddy
I’m surprised. “For what?” I ask.
“Just… taking things too far. I think I got a little carried away,” she says, taking another sip of her coffee.
“Sometimes the risk is worth it,” I reply with a wink. While she might feel weird about what she did last night, I rather enjoyed it. I don’t think I’m ever going to forget the beautiful look on her face when I finished inside of her. It was wrong, but it felt so damn good.
“So, you’re not mad?” she asks.
I laugh. “Why would I be? I’m just as guilty as you are, if not more.”
“I just felt like I pushed you to do it,” she says, her voice laced with guilt.
“Listen,” I say, leaning in and pushing her hair behind her ear. “Don’t you ever feel bad about anything you do here. The last person who you should be apologizing to is a Bratva boss. I’m the bad guy. Period.”
“I don’t think you’re that bad,” she says, her cheeks flushing again.
I laugh through my nose at her innocence, but I also appreciate hearing it. I’ve been the monster so long that I don’t know how to be anything else. Monroe makes me want to change that, to be the man she thinks I am. The hero of her story.
“Come,” I say, lifting my coffee from the island. “Let’s go get your stuff from the house. I already told Kiro that we’re on the way.”
Her eyes widen, and she gulps down the rest of her coffee, pouring herself another cup before we leave. She might just drink more than I do, and she’s about half my size. I’m impressed, if not a little terrified, too.
15
Monroe
Even though it’s been less than twenty-four hours, it feels like weeks since I’ve been to my house. Sometimes, the decades happen in a day. I may have aged just as much in that time as well, but I haven’t seen any grey hairs yet.
Not on my head, at least. Zane looks good with the few that pepper his beard, but I’d rather not join him just yet. I think the contrast between our ages is cute.
Frighteningly, I’m starting to find just about everything about us being together cute. Maybe it’s the bonding mechanisms in my unfortunate primal brain, but I feel drawn to him after what we did by the pool. I feel attached in a way I didn’t before.
I hope I didn’t do anything irreversible, but time will tell. All I’m really supposed to do in his presence is get comfortable enough to tell him what I saw on the flash drive, all those stocks and insider information that he wants so badly. As long as I believe he won’t kill me afterward, I’ll do it.
Part of me already trusts him, but I’m not a complete fool, even if I’ve acted like one in the past. He won’t be satisfied until I tell him. Then, there will be no reason for me to stay with him. He might just throw me away once he gets what he wants, and that thought frightens me more than I can admit.
I want him to protect me, not use me. I want him to care about me, but that's the fool in me talking. Why would a powerful Bratva boss care about a regular woman like me? I'm nothing, and he's practically a god.
As he drives to my house, I feel terrible inside, like I'm getting my hopes up for nothing. I suddenly doubt myself much more than I did before, even though he's made me feel pretty and special. It's hard to shake the feeling that he's using me.
He's so attractive that he can probably have any woman he wants. The fact that he's obviously trying to manipulate me isn't exactly reassuring. It's a damn good act, but that's all it is. My life has become a play.
The car ride is quiet, and I keep my head down, staring at the steaming cup of coffee in my hands.
Zane doesn't say anything, and I'm not sure of his emotions. He's good at hiding things behind a blank expression. His stoicism is admirable, and if not for the little glimpses I catch when he lets his guard down, I wouldn't ever know what he was thinking.
I want to know more about his past and the things that shaped him, but now doesn't feel like the time to start picking his brain. We just need to grab a few things and leave. I want this to be quick just as much as he does.
Zane slows the car as we turn down the street to my house, and his eyebrows come together in a frown. He slows down even further, his eyes darting back and forth across the road ahead of us.
"What's wrong?" I ask, leaning forward to see what he's looking at.
He shakes his head, still frowning as he rolls the window on his side down an inch. He inhales deeply, continuing to shake his head. "Do you smell that?"
"Smell what?" I ask, breathing in slowly and tasting the air. I can smell a faint trace of smoke, but it's barely there. Maybe Zane has a sensitive nose. "Just smoke, right? Maybe a grill."
"No, it's not just that," he replies, his voice low and serious.
Suddenly, it hits me. He's right. The smell is nothing like food on a grill. It’s a sharp, acrid tang that stings my nostrils and makes my eyes water. The air is thick with the scent of burning wood, like a campfire gone out of control. I can smell the paint blistering and peeling off the walls, a chemical undertone that mingles with the earthy scent of charred brick.
