Page 102 of Bratva Menace

That cross-as-fuck look on Cedric’s face didn’t change. Didn’t budge. “How do you know that? How do you know he’s not going to take this opportunity to run?”

I knew it the same way I knew everything else. “Because I know him. Lukyan is having fun with me. He enjoys being around me, like I do him. He wouldn’t leave me like that. Not after all the time we’ve spent getting to know each other.”

“You mean fucking,” he responded, none to impressed.

“You find out a lot about a person when you fuck them.” I winked. “He deserves to have some fun, and I want to give that to him.”

“You think taking him to some club in the city is the only way to have fun? I can think of a dozen other things you can do that pose less of a risk. You know his family is looking for him.”

Yes, I did know that. They’d put out a fucking country-wide call for him. I was both annoyed and incredibly impressed by the reach the Bratva possessed.

“Everything will be fine.” I firmly believed that. The odds of someone being at the exact same club, on the exact same night, at the exact same time as us was astronomical.

When I’d first floated the idea by Lukyan, he’d been ecstatic. He wanted to go out, drink and dance just as much as I did. There was no way I could deny him that chance to make him happy, even if it came with such a risk.

“And what am I meant to tell your brother?”

“Don’t tell him anything.” Checking my face over one more time in the mirror, I nodded, satisfied with what stared back at me.

I was shit at applying makeup. I could only do the basics. Foundation, eyeliner, mascara, and lipstick, and even that was a struggle. It wasn’t as if I didn’t like it. I did. I loved the way makeup made me look. Made me feel. I just sucked at doing it, and anytime I tried to learn from Youtube tutorials, it never turned out the same.

My hair was down and straight, and I had on one of my favorite dresses—red, lacy, and tight. It would ensure Lukyan’s gaze never wavered from me.

“You can’t keep avoiding this, Lyla,” Cedric said solemnly. My eyes flicked to him in the mirror, and our gazes held. “He’ll be here soon. You have to make a choice.”

I sighed deeply. He was right. Of course, I knew he was right. I’d been putting off thinking about it, hoping that if I just ignored it, the entire situation would just…go away.

But that was denial through and through. The truth of it was, I didn’t want to have to choose between my brother and Lukyan. Lev’s obsession with his mission would leave me no choice, though, and soon, I would be forced to make a decision.

“I know. I know. I’ll deal with it tomorrow.” For the tonight, Lukyan and I were going to let loose and party. We weren’t going to be a crazy stalker woman or a Bratva prince. We were just going to be Lyla and Lukyan.

I stood up and made my way to the closet. A pair of red pumps drew me in straight away. I plucked them from the shelf, sliding them onto my feet before taking one final look in the full-length mirror hanging on the door.

Perfect.

Making sure to grab my purse with my phone, keys, and wallet in it, I made my way over to Cedric and hugged him. He stiffened, taken slightly by surprise.

“Thanks for looking out for me,” I whispered softly.

His body loosened, and he returned my embrace, wrapping his arms around me. “Always.”

Warmth flooded through me. Cedric might not have agreed with my actions, but he would always have my back, and that meant the world to me.

With a final goodbye, I left and went to Lukyan’s room. It was right beside mine. I hoped we would be sharing a space soon, though.

I knocked on the door. Lukyan opened it a moment later, and my breath caught in my throat. He stood there, looking every bit like he’d just walked off a GQ photo shoot. His hair was down, exactly how I liked it. He’d chosen a white, long-sleeved shirt, tight and perfectly fitted for his body, a black corset vest with an intricate cathedral design etched into the fabric, and black slacks. The icing on the cake, though?

He was wearing my fucking collar.

Without prompting.

My stomach fluttered at the sight.

“Hold on.” My hand dove into my purse, and I yanked out my phone, holding it up to take a photo.

Lukyan smirked. He leaned against the doorframe and posed for me, one hand coming up to fiddle with the cuff of his sleeve.

I snapped a dozen photos.