Page 12 of Sexting the Bratva Beast
The main desk of what was once the library is a bar, with tinted mirrors lining the wall behind it, and an array of unusual bottles hanging from overhead rafters. No bar stools. The carrels are for drinking and reading or chatting about books if that’s your preference. There’s an air of charm inside the library that’s neither sedate nor lively, just groups of like-minded people hanging out where they feel comfortable.
“Drink?”
Cartier faces me in slow-motion, eyes wide like she doesn’t understand the world we just entered. “Did Mika tell you to bring me here?” It’s not an accusation. She’s simply jumping to conclusions.
“Nope. All my own work.”
I take her hand and lead her to the bar where I order two glasses of prosecco while she peers around the carrels. Drinks in hand, we make our way to the rear of the building and find an empty table.
Cartier is still staring at the loaded shelves behind me as if she doesn’t believe that the books are real.
“My favorite section.” I sip my prosecco and sit back in my seat. “The classics.”
“To read or to bring women?” She swallows hard like she might be able to suck the words back in and pretend they never happened.
I shrug. I deserve it. “To read. I’ve lost count of the number of times I’ve readDoctor Zhivago.”
Cartier takes a moment to process the revelation as if trying to figure out whether she should believe me or call me out on theblatant lie. Then, “Tess of the D’Urbervilles. Makes me cry every time.”
“Thomas Hardy.” I’m not trying to impress her. But fuck if I couldn’t sit here and listen to her talking about books all night.
She jumps up, kneels on the cushioned bench, and runs a finger across the spines of the books on the shelf behind her, checking out the titles.
I check out the curve of her ass, the way her waist dips in, and the swell of her breasts when she half-turns with a book in her hand and says, “Wuthering Heights. Please tell me that you’ve read this book at least once.”
“Once.”
She drops back into her seat, one knee raised to her chest, and hugs her leg while she flicks through the pages of the book that almost looks like an antique. “And?” She watches me, wide-eyed.
“And Catherine Earnshaw was a spoiled, over-indulged brat.”
“Yes, but what did you think of the love story? Of Heathcliff?”
I sit forward. She’s even more fucking stunning when she’s passionate, and I need to keep my mind off the semi-hardon in my boxers. “It was a toxic relationship. I mean, would you dig up the bones of the man you love because you rejected him while he was alive?”
She laughs, and the sound travels straight down to my bulging pants along with all the blood surging through my veins.
“I don’t know.” She chews her bottom lip again. “I’ve never loved anyone that deeply.”
“Do you want to?”
Our eyes lock, and the world shudders to a grinding halt.
“Of course. Don’t you?”
I never thought about it before. People like me don’t fall in love. Our hearts are black and twisted, screwed up by the blood spatters and gunshots that haunt our dreams at night. But what kind of man does that make me? I never thought Leonid would ever fall in love, but when I see him with Gianna, I know that’s what it is.
Love.
My brother is blissfully, hopelessly, and dangerously, in love with his wife. Do I want to experience the same? The thought scares me more than it should. Loving someone that deeply changes a person, adds layers to your psyche that are buried for a reason because it allows you to exist inside the world you were born into without question.
The instant I start questioning what I do…
Well, like Lady Macbeth, I’ll see all the blood on my hands for the first time, and I’m quite happy keeping my hands clean.
“Drink up.” I down my prosecco and reach for her hand.
I don’t miss the disappointment in her eyes as she turns around and slides the book back onto the shelf. If love is what she’s looking for, then it’s better to disappoint her now rather than later. I promised Gianna that I wouldn’t hurt her. It’s an easy promise to uphold when I don’t know anything about Cartier Black.
