Page 11 of Bratva, Baby
As for the flowers I sent my little bird, I am glad to know I deduced her favorite flower correctly from the little time I was in her home, but I was really hoping for more of a reaction from her. I do know she is hiding her true reaction, probably for the same reason she is attempting to keep me at arms-length, but, oh little bird, it won’t work.
Due to my inner musings, we pull up to Grind & Dine after a car ride of silence. Thankfully, it wasn’t too far of a drive from the office.
Walking in, we are greeted by a young woman around Ava’s age with black hair and a septum piercing. As she walks us to our booth, she immediately starts talking to Ava about piercings and completely ignores my presence until I clear my throat. She looks me up and down, rolls her eyes, and goes back to talking to Ava as if they are long-lost best friends. What the absolute fuck?
Sitting down across from Ava, I settle in to quietly listen in on their conversation, pretending to read emails on my phone. Hoping for any scrap of information I can get from her.
“Did it hurt when you got them done?” I hear her ask, her voice nearly a whisper.When did she get what done?
“There was an initial pinch and sting when the needle went through, but it didn’t hurt, perse.” The barista, whose name tag reads Olivia, says.
Looking nervously at me as though she’s trying to catch me eavesdropping on their conversation, she lowers her voice a little more and says, “I plan on getting mine done very soon, but the idea of a stranger seeing my breasts has always made me nervous. Even if he is just the piercer.”Are they discussing nipple piercings?
“OH, I have an idea!” Olivia exclaims, no longer keeping her voice as low as she was. “I can introduce you to my guy! I can bring you to get yours done. Let’s exchange numbers.”What the fuck?Like hell another man will touch my Ava’s breasts,but I can’t show an outward reaction right now because they don’t realize I am privy to their conversation.
Clenching my jaw, I wait for the women to exchange numbers. I will have to plan accordingly for this because I will gut a man who thinks they are getting close to touching my little bird.
Finally, they have finished their niceties, and Olivia asks for our order. I order an Americano with a double shot of espresso since I have a long night ahead of me, while Ava orders a Mocha Macchiato.
As Olivia walks off, I turn to Ava, and her cheeks are burning red with a blush. It makes me curious to know where her mind is to elicit such a reaction.
“What are you thinking about, little bird?” I ask, leaning in, slightly invading her space.
“Nothing that concerns you.” She says, breathlessly, betraying herself. It makes me wonder if she is remembering our kiss in the elevator. As I remember the feel of my tongue stroking hers. My cock gives a twitch in my pants.
Hardening my voice, but only slightly so as not to frighten her, I say, “Don’t lie to me, Ava.” I see her shift in her seat and a sense of satisfaction overcomes me. She is not unaffected by me and it makes me want to slide into the booth beside her, slide my hand into her pants, and see how wet she is right now. “Tell me, little bird, what has youso flustered?”
Before she can answer me, Olivia returns with our order and distracts Ava again with talk about hanging out. It appears the barista has adopted my introvert.
By the time another customer comes in, my Americano is finished, and Ava is halfway done with her Macchiato, adorably sporting whipped cream on her top lip. I want to lean across the table and lick it off her, but she catches me looking and grabs a napkin, cleaning her face and taking away my fantasy.
“Sorry about my messiness, I really love Mocha Macchiatos, but I don’t splurge on fancy coffee often.” She says. It says a lot about her living situation that she considers her macchiato to be a splurge. That will change; she will want for nothing. As soon as she understands she is mine and I can trust that she won’t try to run screaming from my life, I will give her everything.
“You are stunning even with whipped cream on your lip. I was only thinking about licking it off of you.” I say, causing her to blush again.
“So what brought you to work at LevCorp?” She asks, trying to change the subject. I allow it since soon, there will be no escaping us. I know she feels the attraction, too.
“I just got tired of my old job. I worked in security but found it boring, so I applied for a Data Analyst position at LevCorp and got the job. What about you?” I return the question. I recall from the interview I watched that she was fired fromher previous job due to budget cuts, but I want to hear what she has to say.
She takes another few sips of her macchiato, “They said it was budget cuts, but they hired someone else a week before they fired me, so I don’t know what their true reasoning was. I feel like it’s because I was late to work too many times, but I don’t like driving in New York, so I take public transportation, often resulting in being late to work.”
“How long were you without a job?” I ask, curiosity taking over.
“Two weeks. I had an emergency fund set back for rent, but now I am using that on fixing my car; I am just grateful that I got this job.” She says. “I have lived in that house since I moved here to New York with my mom nine years ago. When she died in a car crash three years ago, I stayed there and just took over the rent. I have slowly turned into mine and just kept the minimal sentimental things of hers.” She continues to explain.
“That must have been very hard for you,” I say, thinking about how much I should tell her about my father. It’s been five years since he’s been gone, and I took over the Bratva, but she’s not ready to know that last part yet. “I understand your pain. It’s been five years since my father died.”
She gasps and reaches her hand across the table and grabs mine, “I’m so sorry too.” And it’s that connection that has me telling her more.
“Thank you, it hasn’t been easy because losing him meant having to step up and take care of the family, and I have a lot of…brothers,” I say, hoping she doesn’t hear the pause. It’s the best explanation for what the Bratva is. We are brothers.
“Oh! I can’t imagine what it would have been like if I had siblings that I had to take care of on top of losing my mom.” She says thoughtfully. “I am so sorry you’ve been through so much.” As though she hasn’t been through just as much since her mom passed.
She looks at me as though she can see right through me to all my secrets, but I know that isn’t true, or she would run screaming from the building. And possibly try running from my life, but I would never let that happen. Even if I have to lock her in a cage like the little bird I call her.
Changing the subject from the heaviness of our losses, I ask, “Would you like to stay and have dinner together? We could switch from the Grind to the Dine side, and then neither of us will have to worry about going home to our lonely houses and cooking dinner.” I am way overselling it.
“You know what, that sounds like a really good plan.”
