Page 13 of Unexpected Bratva Baby

Her hands gesture animatedly. “The flavors are complex. The pepper and nutmeg give it a wonderful warmth, and the oatmeal adds a fantastic texture.”

I arch a brow. “I must admit, you’re making it sound far more appetizing than I remember it being.” I’d eaten one of the bon bons but had been too focused on my date to really eat much of anything. “Perhaps I’ve been too hasty in my judgment.”

Phoebe grins triumphantly. “I knew I could convince you. I’ll have to make you some the traditional way. My gran’s recipe is to die for.”

Our laughter mingles with the gentle lapping of waves against the yacht. The Miami skyline twinkles in the distance, a backdrop to this perfect moment. I’m about to suggest we open another bottle of wine when my phone buzzes insistently in my pocket.

I tense, recognizing the specific vibration pattern I’ve set for urgent business matters. Composing my features into a neutral expression, I pull out the device.

“I apologize, Phoebe. I need to take this. It’ll only be a moment.”

She waves a hand, still smiling. “Of course, go ahead.”

I step away, moving toward the bow of the yacht. The message on my screen makes me bite back an oath.

“Shipment compromised. Feds closing in. Need instructions ASAP.”

I clench my jaw, sorting through potential solutions. I can’t let this derail my evening with Phoebe, but I also can’t ignore the potential catastrophe unfolding.

I dial a number, speaking in rapid Russian as soon as the call connects. “Divert the shipment to warehouse B. Use the submarine entrance. If anyone asks, it’s a shipment of vodka for the nightclub. Understood?”

The voice on the other end confirms my orders, and I swiftly end the call. With a deep breath, I force my features to relax before turning back to Phoebe.

She’s standing at the railing, silhouetted by the last rays of the setting sun. The sight of her momentarily pushes away thoughts of compromised shipments and federal agents.

I approach her, placing a hand lightly on her lower back. “I hope I didn’t keep you waiting long.”

She turns to me with a warm smile. “Not at all. I was just admiring the view. It’s breathtaking.”

“Yes, it is.” I’m staring at her rather than the scenery.

We stand in comfortable silence, watching as the sun dips below the horizon. The sky transforms into a canvas of deep purples and fiery oranges, reflected in the calm waters of the bay. Phoebe shivers slightly as a cool breeze sweeps across the deck. Without thinking, I step closer, wrapping an arm around her shoulders. She leans into me, her warmth seeping through my shirt.

“This has been an incredible evening, Mikhail,” she says softly. “Thank you for all of this.”

I look down at her, struck by how perfectly she fits against me. “The pleasure has been all mine, Phoebe.”

Our gazes lock, and suddenly, the air between us feels charged with electricity. My heart rate quickens. I move slowly, giving her every opportunity to pull away, but she doesn’t. Instead, she tilts her face up to me. Our lips meet in a soft, tentative kiss. It’s gentle at first, a mere brush of lips, but then she sighs, parting her lips slightly, and something inside me ignites.

I deepen the kiss, one hand cupping her face while the other pulls her closer. She responds with equal fervor, threading her fingers through my hair. The kiss is everything I’d imagined and more. Phoebe tastes of wine and sweetness, and I’m soon lost in the sensation. All thoughts of business and danger fade away, replaced by the intoxicating feel of her in my arms.

When we finally part, we’re both slightly breathless. Phoebe’s cheeks are flushed, her lips swollen from our kiss. She looks utterly beautiful.

“Wow,” she whispers, a shy smile on her lips.

I stroke her cheek gently, marveling at the softness of her skin. “Indeed.”

For a moment, I’m tempted to pull her back in for another kiss, to see where this passion might lead us, but I resist the urge. Phoebe deserves more than a rushed encounter on my yacht, no matter how luxurious the setting.

Instead, I take her hand, bringing it to my lips for a gentle kiss. “Perhaps we should head back to shore. It’s getting late, and I’d hate for you to be too tired for work tomorrow.”

Phoebe nods, though I detect a hint of reluctance. “You’re right. I suppose we should call it a night.”

We make our way back to the marina, and it feels like something significant has shifted between us. The kiss we shared was more than just a physical act—it was a promise, or a glimpse of what could be.

For the first time in years, I’m looking forward to the future with genuine excitement. Phoebe has awakened something in me that I thought long dead. Hope, perhaps.

Or maybe it’s something even more dangerous.

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