Chapter 48
Sinful Blaze (Chekhov Bratva Book 1)
âDo me a favor, Daph⦠Warn me next time? Before you go and tell me what might be the hottest sex story ever?â Hazel shakes her head and fans herself. âItâs been a while for me, yâknow.â Then she flashes a grin and straightens up. âBut really, in all seriousness. Iâm so happy for you.â
âThanks.â I feel a squiggly, giggly warmth spread through my chest. âIâm happy, too.â
Pasha drove me to work again this morning. He was very obviously looking for Conrad, or any other signs of trouble, but the fact that his hand kept caressing my thigh had me purring the whole time. He could be looking for nuclear warheads for all I care.
He wants me. For me.
Iâm his woman.
Iâm on Cloud Nine. And Iâm his woman.
Another little gesture neither of us spoke about but I definitely mentioned to Hazel: Pasha didnât wear a tie this morning. Heâs actually stopped wearing ties as often as he used to, but this morning he left the top two buttons or so undone and his shirt pulled open.
Just enough to see the hickey I left on his neck.
I canât quite match Pashaâs levels of bloodthirsty, enough-to-kill-a-rhinoceros testosterone. But Iâm definitely loving that any interested woman is going to see my mark on my man and know better than to try anything with him.
Unfortunately, my high doesnât last as long as I wouldâve liked. Hazel and I both hear the front doors slam open from where weâre sitting and look up in alarm.
What now?
This isnât exactly Grand Central Station. Visitors outside of showcase events are typically few and far between. But ever since things with Pasha and Conrad heated up, itâs almost like we should just install a revolving door.
âYou.â
Shit. I know that voice. Iâve been wincing at that rasping, pathetic babydoll voice since boarding school.
âHi, Brittany.â I hold my smoothie close like a shield as I turn to face her.
She is a woman on a mission. A violent mission, if I had to guess. Her finger jabs in the air at me and if looks could kill, Iâd be long dead. âI hope youâre fucking happy,â she hisses.
âI am, actually.â I rest a hand on my stomach and smile. My baby girl is dancing, further underlining the point that we are both very, very happy. âYou donât look so good, though.â
Brittany barks out a laugh. âAre you⦠are you serious, right now? Are you fucking serious?â
Hazel has far less patience than me. She rolls her eyes, folds her arms across her chest, and steps between us. Not enough to block me, but enough to be able to throw hands in case this woman flies off her hinges. âJust spit it out, already, Brit. We donât have all day.â
âYou⦠You donât have all⦠Okay.â Brittany claps her hands together and I really am starting to think sheâs lost it. âWell, your boyfriend made sure that Conrad wonât have another day in his career. Ever.â
âWhat are you talking about?â
But even as I say it, Pashaâs words roll through my head. He put his hands on you. There was violence in that sentence. Lots of it.
Brittany shoves past Hazel to stab her finger in my face. âStay away from Conrad. You hear me? You lost him. You donât get to keep him.â
That patience I felt a second agoâ¦
Itâs gone now.
Long gone.
I swat her hand out of the way. âFirst of all, bitch, I donât want him. Honestly, I donât like you, but I still think you could do way better than that asshole. And second of allâ ââ
I see her slap coming, but Iâm too slow to block it. I can only gawk, dumbstruck, as the rings on her fingers flash and twinkle and fly closer, and thenâ â
BOOM. Someone snatches her wrist out of mid-air.
I turn, still mute and useless, to see two giant mountains of men intervening.
After what happened yesterday, theyâve been ordered to remain inside the premises within earshot instead of outside like they used to.
Turns out, that was a good idea.
Lev and Dominik pluck Brittany off the ground like sheâs no heavier than a letterbox. She gasps, sputters, then tries to claw her way free, but they simply grab her wrists and hold them behind her.
âYou canât do this! You canât fucking touch me! You canât arrest me! I have rights!â
Something new, something fierce, wells up inside me. I wonder if this is what Pasha feels when heâs âworking.â
âOh, sweetie, no. These arenât the police. Itâd go much better for you if they were.â
She stills.
Emboldened, I take several steps forward. For once, I actually do want to get in her repulsive little Shih Tzu face. âAs I was saying: second of all, I have my own life. You clearly canât see that I am very much pregnant with another manâs baby, and that man is worlds better than Conrad. So why would I want the bottom of the barrel? Thatâs your realm.â
Hazel snorts. Lev and Dom press their lips together in an admirable show of stoicism, but Iâm pretty sure one of them almost laughed.
Brittany is going apeshit. âYouâre such a bitch! I wonât let you have him! Iâll do whatever it takes to make sure youâll never see him again!â
âWhatever, psycho.â I roll my eyes and give the nod for my guards to drag her out the door.
They do so.
Gladly.
Hazel whistles low once theyâre gone. âDamn. Bitch is certifiable. What do you think she meant about Conradâs career ending?â
âI donât know, and I really donât care. Iâm just glad I donât have to do that godawful showcase anymore.â
True to my word, I grab my phone to send Pasha a text to update him.
Brittany just stopped by. Legit psycho. Unhinged.
Dom and Lev took care of it
Btw, what did she mean by Conrad no longer having a career?
Thereâs no immediate response, so I tuck my phone away and give a little wave to Hazel as I walk back toward my office. With everything said and done, I might as well get back to some real work.
Before I reach the door, though, my phone buzzes.
PASHA:Â Unless he can paint with his left hand, he needs to find a new hobby
DAPHNE:Â What happened?
PASHA:Â He stuck his hand somewhere it doesnât belong. Accidents happen when people ignore all the warnings
PASHA:Â Which one is Brittany?
DAPHNE:Â Conradâs fiancee. You were there when he proposed to her, remember?. You burned her painting.
PASHA:Â Ah. Right. Still the best $5 million Iâve ever invested
DAPHNE:Â Invested? Hardly. Literally burned through your money
PASHA:Â I got you, didnât I?
Now, Iâm blushing. Thereâs no one around to see it, but I donât care.