Page 67 of The Bratva Betrayal

Cute.

Misha launches into a story about Ilya’s fiancée, who once threatened to castrate a man with a butter knife at a charity gala. I laugh in all the right places and ask all the right questions.

Our dinner arrives; mine surrounded by heirloom tomatoes and fresh basil. We eat, and I let myself relax incrementally, letting the food, the wine, and Misha's easy charm do their work.

"How are things with Artem?" Misha asks, and just like that, the careful peace after my first bite shatters.

The man who looked at me like I was something to be conquered.

The man who makes me feel things I have no business feeling.

"Things with Artem," I repeat slowly, buying myself time to choose my words carefully. “Would be much better if Artem didn't exist in my space.”

Misha laughs. "He's not that bad, babe.”

“He ate my sandwich.” He blinks at me. “My sandwich, Misha.”

“I’m…” He looks confused. “Sorry?”

"He's intrusive and overbearing, and I don't need a babysitter. Tell him to back off, Misha. Better yet, tell him to disappear. I can take care of myself."

"I know you can." He sets down his fork, and there's something serious in his expression now. Thoughtful. It's rare enough that it catches my attention. "But humor me. You're spending time with me, and that means you're part of my world now. And in my world, beautiful women attract attention. Not all of it is friendly."

"I can handle attention."

"I'm sure you can. But Artem is good at what he does. He keeps people safe. Keeps them out of trouble. Besides, Benedikt asked him to keep an eye on things. On you. It's not personal."

Benedikt.

The name I've been waiting for to be dropped casually into conversation. Like it's not the entire reason I'm sitting here, eating oysters and pretending to be charmed by a man I'm using.

"Benedikt," I say, as if the name is only mildly interesting to me. "Your boss. The one you keep promising to introduce me to."

"I will. When the time is right." Misha's tone is still light, but there's something underneath it that suggests I'm approaching a boundary I shouldn't cross. "He's a busy man. Important. But he's heard about you. He's curious."

"Curious how?"

"Curious about the Irish woman who's caught my attention. Curious about whether you're someone we can trust." He says it like it's a compliment rather than a warning. "That's why Artem is around. Just making sure everything is... appropriate."

“I thought it was to protect me.”

“That, too.”

“Those are two different things, Misha.”

“They are.” His tongue darts out to lick his bottom lip. “And you’re not…” I make a face because he’s playing me. Artem got to him. “You’re not someone who’s going to be in my life for a short time, babe. I plan on… keeping you around for a while.”

“Why?”

This isn’t what I signed up for. I wanted him to be attracted to me enough to form something, but I don’t want him thinking about it long-term.

“Like I said.” He smirks, arrogance lighting up his features. “I like fucking you.”

“That all?”

“I like a lot of things about you.”

“Enough to skip the rest of this dinner and get out of here?”