Page 163 of Bratva Menace

That’s it, baby, get a good look. Come follow me instead.

I wanted to shift her attention from my father to me because, if I was being honest, I was getting jealous that she wasn’t following me instead. I wanted her attention—all her fucking attention—and I would do whatever I needed to, to get it.

I pushed her back up onto her feet and, as much as I didn’t want to, moved back slightly. I grabbed her hand, and kept my gaze locked with hers as I bent at the waist and placed the softest, smoothest kiss on the top of her hand.

She swayed slightly.

“You have yourself a good day, gorgeous,” I rumbled, winking before turning around and heading for the door.

Each step I took was pure agony. I wanted to go back. To talk to her. Demand her to tell me every single thing about her. Bring her back to my house and tie her to the bed so she could never leave.

I hoped I’d done enough to spark her interest.

Come, my little shadow. Stalk me.

My love,

I am both devastated and hurt by your act of betrayal last night. Don’t you see how perfect we are for each other? How well we fit together?

We’re inevitable, you and me. Like death. We’re bound together by forces beyond our control.

I felt it the first time I laid eyes on you.

Didn’t you feel it too? I know you did.

Let this gift be a lesson for you, my love. Not only a show of my complete and utter devotion to you, but also a display of what shall happen should you betray our love again.

Yours always, in this life and the next,

L

I kept the giddiness I felt over Lyla’s love letter to myself as Aleksandr read it outloud.

Lyla. Her name was Lyla.

It had taken me a while to figure out her identity, and oh, boy, it had come as quite a fucking shock. I wasn’t sure who I imagined she would be, but the daughter of the man who murdered my mother, who, in turn, my father murdered for retribution was the last person on this earth I expected.

It had taken me a while to come to terms with, but in the end, it didn’t matter to me. Lyla was a child when everything happened, like I was. She wasn’t responsible for her father’s actions, just like I wasn’t for mine.

Who she was didn’t matter to me. What she was doing following my father didn’t matter to me. All that did was that she was mine, and I would do whatever it took to have her.

Lying to my siblings about who she was was hard. Beyond hard. Pretending like I had no idea what was going on when, really, I was the one pulling all the strings, was even harder.

But I had to.

My siblings loved me. I knew that. But they didn’t trust my judgment, as made abundantly clear by Aleksandr’s earlier words.

“Lukyan will just fuck it up. He’s unreliable.”

They couldn’t know anything about Lyla.

So, when Aleksandr asked, “What betrayal is she talking about? And what gift?” I lied.

Effortlessly.

For the greater good.

“Well,” I began, keeping my tone light to hide my deception. “I went out last night and ended up fucking this chick in the alley.”