Page 55 of Baby for the Bratva King

“And yet only one person knows the truth.” Felix flashes me one final glare before taking another sip of champagne, returning to his book.

I got my hopes up with the book, just like I’m probably getting my hopes up with the rest of him.

I focus on relaxing, on tuning the negative thoughts out. I throw on a sitcom and use the blindfold provided to block out the outside world.

I’m halfway through fixing it over my head when I remember the one at Felix’s place. Safe to say this is nothing like the leather one he keeps in his room.

I run my finger over the soft velvet, the airline’s logo embroidered on the front.

My heart swells when I put the mask on, letting dangerous thoughts consume me. The laugh track for the sitcom disappears, replaced by Felix’s heavy, aspirated breaths as I picture his giant form engulfing mine.

He’s all I can think about. Accompanying him to London was definitely a mistake.

Six hours later, we disembark and head to arrivals. Customs feels like an experience, not an overstimulating mess. We roll right through the gates, collect our bags, and a taxi driver pulls up outside to collect us.

The air is colder than it is in New York. I think the rain is to blame for how much I’m shivering.

Felix takes my bag and pops open the back seat door for me, sliding in after.

“Pozharsky, Mayfair,” he says to the driver.

Two minutes later, we’re rolling out of Heathrow and heading toward the city.

Gray clouds loom over the high rises, more rain on its way.

“What sort of work is there to do?”

“I have meetings with some of the managers, reports to oversee. We’re making a few structural changes to some of the branches, introducing three new presidential suites for our VIP guests. I need to test the room out, make sure everything is up to standard before we go live.”

“Sounds… expensive.

“It’s a new thing we’re working on,” explains Felix.

“And how do you find the time?” I ask. “You know—between running your other… business?”

Felix flashes me a glare. “I make time.”

“The only thing money can’t buy.”

“Indeed,” says Felix, still watching me. “Anyway, the suite has three primary-style bedrooms, but you’ll be staying in mine.”

My heart skips a beat. We accidently fell asleep together two nights ago. I thought that was a fluke.

The violin melodies from Land of the Free swirl through me. Is Felix my safe haven? Probably not. But he feels safe, and I’m here for the journey, not the end result.

“Thank you, sir,” says the taxi driver as he rolls up outside of the hotel.

The doorman hoists an umbrella into the air, rushing to my side. “Good evening.”

“Good evening to you too,” I say, offering the gentleman a smile. “I guess the stereotypes about this country are true.”

“Indeed. You flew in on a bad day, but the sun will be shining again tomorrow,” he says with some reassurance. “Have you visited England before?”

“Never.”

“I’m sure you’ll enjoy your time here. Autumn is very beautiful when the sun decides to come out.”

Felix helps another doorman with the suitcases, and we walk into the lobby.