Page 79 of Bratva Baby

His eyes drop over me once, then come back up. “You’re beautiful when you do.”

I roll my eyes, but he’s too close now for me to pretend the line didn’t land. “We have a live operation.”

“We do.”

“And you’re still looking at me like that.”

“That’s because I can do two things at once.”

I push the papers into a neater stack just to give my hands something useful to do. “You’re impossible.”

“You say that every time you’re close to kissing me.”

I look up. He’s not joking. The memory of the couch is still in my body, in the warmth between my thighs, in the soreness I can feel when I shift.

The memory of him saying I love you is somewhere under my ribs. Somewhere that doesn’t know how to protect itself against tenderness when it comes in a man built like Anton.

My voice comes out quieter than I mean it to. “Don’t start.”

“I’m not starting anything.”

“That’s a lie.”

“That’s optimism.”

I laugh once, helplessly annoyed, and then his phone vibrates again.

He checks the screen. This time, whatever he sees changes him immediately. The softness drops out and he looks up, concentration tight on his face. “The second lane just lit.”

My whole body goes alert. “Already?”

“Yes.”

He picks up his gun from the side drawer and checks it while I’m still getting to my feet. His jacket comes next, then the phone, then the keys.

I grab the edge of the desk. “Tell me where.”

“Khimki cold yard. Reassignment lane.”

He comes around the desk and stops right in front of me. “You stay by the phone. The second I know what’s in that lane, you’ll know.”

I catch his wrist before he can pull away. “If the load moves out without a problem, don’t waste time grabbing the first paperwork man you see.”

Anton looks back at me. “Why?”

“Because if he’s calm, he’s not important,” I say. “He’s just the one stamping forms. Follow the shipment to the next handoff. That’s where the real people behind it are more likely to be.”

He studies me for half a second, then nods once. “All right.”

I let go. He bends, kisses me once, hard enough to leave a mark and brief enough to count as cruelty, then heads for the door.

I follow him three steps anyway. “Anton.”

He turns back.

“If you come home empty-handed after I did your thinking for you, I’ll be unbearable.”

His smile comes quick and wicked. “You say that like it’s a threat.”