AllFreeNovel
Share Us
“Someone died, mishka,” he whispers.
I move my hands through his dark blond hair. One of the strands keeps falling forward, across his eye.
“Who?” I try moving that tress of hair off, but it ends up over his face again.
“Yuri. One of the Bratva’s enforcers. A friend.”
“What happened?”
“Three weeks ago, we caught a guy dealing drugs—pills—at our club. It was the same substance that was used on you. Yuri found the man who supplied the pills and brought him to the club to be questioned.”
“Did you get some answers?”
“No. A group of men followed them and charged inside, shooting. They killed five of our men, then went to the back where Yuri was with the prisoner.” He shakes his head. “Killed them both.”
“I’m so sorry,” I whisper and lean forward, placing a kiss at the center of his forehead. “So very sorry.”
He looks at me then, our eyes so close, and as I stare into his, my heart flutters. It feels like a butterfly is trapped within my chest. I want to kiss him or comfort him in any way I can. The way he did for me. But I don’t know if he’ll welcome it. So instead, I just brush the back of my fingers down his cheek.
“Let’s go to bed, Pasha.”
He takes a deep breath and slowly rises, pulling me up with him. When we’re both standing, he looks at the kitchen floor covered in glass shards.
“Shit. Please tell me you didn’t cut yourself.”
“I’m fine. Let’s go.”
Pasha’s gaze falls to my bare feet. “Step on top of my toes.”
“Why?”
“I don’t think it’s wise to carry you while I’m in this state, mishka.”
I’m about to say I can get back by myself but change my mind. Wrapping my arms around Pasha’s waist, I place my right foot over his shoe, then the left. His left hand slides to my back, pressing me closer to his body.
“We’ll go slow,” he says. “Hold tight.”
“Okay,” I murmur and press my cheek to his chest. I’ll probably end up with blood on my face, but I don’t care.
Pasha grabs the side of the counter with his free hand and takes a step forward. Then one more. I keep myself pressed to his body as he walks through the kitchen. The glass shards break under the soles of his shoes with each step. When we reach the living room, he braces his palm on the wall and looks down at me. There is no glass this far from the kitchen, but I don’t remove my feet from the top of his. Instead, I squeeze his waist tighter. Something passes between us, like an exchange without words being spoken. He’s silently telling me I’m safe to let him go, but I answer that I won’t, even if there is no need to hold him anymore. As if acknowledging my unspoken reply, Pasha nods and resumes walking us all the way to the bedroom.
When we reach the bed, I release his waist and climb under the covers. Holding up the corner of the duvet, I pat the pillow next to my head. Pasha watches me for a few moments, then removes his shoes and slips under the covers next to me.
“Tell me about your friend,” I say and snuggle into his side. “What was he like?”
“I met Yuri ten years ago. He came to one of my fights. After the match was over, he approached me and asked if I’d like to focus my energy and skills somewhere else.”
“Fights?” I ask.
The silent pause lasts almost a minute. “Before I joined the Bratva, I earned money by fighting in underground matches,” he finally says. I can’t see his face, but his voice is clipped. Is he worried that I might think less of him because of how he earned his living?
I press my hand on the center of his chest and bury my face into his neck. “Yuri recruited you for the Bratva?”
“Yes. He was in charge of foot soldiers. Three years later, when the guy who ran the clubs was killed, the pakhan promoted me to the position, saying that my three-piece suits made the other soldiers fidgety. But Yuri was always around, pestering me to go out with the guys. He said I needed to loosen up.”
“And did you? Follow his advice?”
“Nope. I’m not really a people person, mishka.”
