Page 12 of Traded & Bred By the Bratva
I consider the question. "Most days I'm at my office." True enough. "Or meeting clients." Also true. "Or elsewhere." Definitely true. Though she probably wouldn't appreciate hearing that elsewhere sometimes involves Bratva meetings in a dive bar across town.
Sydney kicks off her shoes and walks toward the windows. Her reflection shows a soft smile on her face. "It's beautiful."
I shouldn't enjoy hearing that. This place is simply a tool. An extension of my fake persona. Nothing more.
Yet hearing that she likes it, is impressed by it, somehow changes the space and makes it feel more like a home than a place I use to crash.
She turns back toward me. "So, what exactly are the rules?"
The question pulls me back to reality "There aren't many." My brain scrambles to figure out how to navigate this unplanned situation.
She quirks an eyebrow.
I continue. "You'll have access to the penthouse."
Her expression becomes increasingly skeptical. "That's it?"
"That's it." She laughs. The sound does strange things to my concentration.
"You're serious?"
"Yes."
"You spent a ridiculous amount of money tonight."
"I did."
"And all I have to do is live here?"
"Essentially."
She folds her arms. The movement draws my attention to the curve of her body beneath the blue dress. I immediately look away, but I’m a second too late, because Sydney notices. Her pulse jumps visibly in her throat.
I notice that too. Which is another problem. Everything about this woman is a damn problem.
She shakes her head. "That makes little sense."
No, it doesn't. But unfortunately, I can't explain the real reason. I can't tell her that her brother once saved my life, because nobody is supposed to know about that. Which means I can’t tell her I recognized her immediately. And I can't tell her I would've paid twice as much to keep her away from Lang, because I haven’t quite unpacked that yet.
So, I settle for a partial truth. "I prefer simplicity."
She stares at me and then snorts. "You're impossible to read."
Good. That's generally the point.
A silence settles between us. It’s not awkward, but it’s heavy. A soft spring rain taps softly against the glass. And for a moment it feels as though we're the only two people in the city. Dangerous.
Again, that word.
Sydney clears her throat. "I have another question."
"Ask."
She hesitates and chews on her lip. My dick stands at attention and I shift my legs to ease the pressure against my zipper. Her green eyes flash as they look up at me. "What about your girlfriend?"
The question catches me completely off guard. "My what?"
"Your girlfriend." I stare and Sydney shrugs, a little defensively. "I did research."
