AllFreeNovel
Share Us
“Calling me fifteen minutes before she’s on my doorstep isn’t a fucking warning.”
“I know, but I—” Her voice wavers. “I couldn’t do it anymore, Yakov. The stress of trying to take care of her was killing me. She needs structure. She needs a male figure in her life.”
Yes, Father.
I shake off the memory. “I’m not her father. I’m her brother.”
“You’re the closest thing she has, Yakov,” she says softly. “You’re all she has. She needs you.”
My father raised me to be able to carry on after he was gone. My purpose has always been to lead the Bratva and take care of the family.
This is just another piece of that.
I’m all they have.
“I’ll handle it,” I tell her.
I don’t have another choice.
38
LUNA
Yakov said I could sleep wherever I wanted, but I don’t sleep at all after he’s gone. I sit awake all night wondering what to do.
Was he inviting me to bed? Is he waiting for me in his room right now? If I go, will things go back to the way they were before?
I’m still livid with him, but part of me likes the idea of slipping into the easy rhythm we’d found before I stole that phone. I finally muster the courage to tiptoe out of the guest room at dawn.
If he is lying in bed waiting for me, I’m not sure I’ll have the strength to resist him.
Turns out, I don’t have to. When I get to his room, the door is open and the bed is made up. Either he didn’t sleep in here or he is already up and gone for the day.
I swallow down my disappointment and pad into the bathroom.
The shower in the guest room was nice, but Yakov’s shower is straight out of Architectural Digest. The water pressure alone is a dream. I scrub my skin with his woodsy body wash twice. It’s almost embarrassing how much I missed the smell of him.
Once I drag myself out of the warm steam, I take a long time getting ready. I blow-dry my hair, tame my waves into manageable curls, and put on and wipe off three different shades of lipstick before I decide to skip it altogether. Then I stand in front of the closet and wait for the perfect I’m-trying-but-not-too-hard outfit to jump off the hanger.
“This is stupid,” I mutter as I shuffle through my options. “Who cares what he thinks?”
I do. Very much.
There was a single second last night when he looked at me like he wanted to tie me to the bed and have his way with me.
Yakov may not want to be around me right now, but the attraction between us is still there. If I can’t have anything else, I want to remind him of that.
I land on a pair of jeans and a cropped tank. The intricate straps of my bralette crisscross over my chest and wrap around my neck. It’s sexy, but tasteful. Reserved.
Nailin’ it, babe.
I walk down the hallway for the first time in two days feeling surprisingly confident.
Until I reach the kitchen.
There’s a woman—no, a teenage girl—sitting at the island.
I slam to a stop. She’s so busy staring down at her phone that she doesn’t notice me gawking at her. Which is good. Because the “Women Support Women” sticker I’ve had on my laptop for the last few years would not approve of the look on my face or the thoughts going through my head.
