Page 97 of Sexting the Bratva Beast
Andrej is dischargedfrom the hospital the day before Christmas Eve.
I stayed at the hospital after Yuri’s attack, dividing my time between Andrej and Ivana, watching him slowly regaining his strength and health, while Ivana remained in intensive care.
Tamara arrived the day after her sister’s surgery.
I was surprised to discover that, although they are identical twins, they look nothing alike. Everything about Tamara is softer than Ivana. Her hair, while the same raven-black and cut into a shoulder-length bob as her sister’s, has gentle mermaid waves. She lacks the teardrop tattoo on her face, the green flicks on her eyelids, and is slightly more approachable if still aloof.
The only time Tamara left Ivana’s side was to speak to the doctors about her recovery.
They said that it would be a slow process, and that she might never regain her physical fitness, at least not to the standards demanded by her role as enforcer for the Ivanov family.
“I don’t know what we’ll do,” Tamara confided in me when she received the news. “Working for Leonid is all we’ve ever known.”
I’m not sure if she realized that she was speaking about them as if one couldn’t work without the other, or if it was simply how she was programmed. They’re twins. They were sold together and discovered together. I guess it was only natural that she couldn’t imagine working without her sister.
“Leonid won’t dismiss her because she can’t work.”
From what I learned about Leonid through Gianna and the construction of the women’s shelter, he cares about the twins as if they were his sisters, and neither he nor Andrej would see them homeless and jobless.
Tamara shook her head, but she didn’t articulate what was concerning her.
The doctors advised against Andrej traveling back to the States immediately. So, with Tamara’s help, I arranged for all the food I would need to prepare Christmas dinner to be delivered to the Ivanov mansion before we arrived. She declined my invitation to join us. I didn’t need to ask why; she refused to leave her sister’s bedside.
We spend the first night wrapped in each other’s arms in the four-poster bed, my head resting on Andrej’s shoulder.
I wake up early the next morning, and leave him sleeping peacefully, while I sneak to the bathroom. The nausea is intermittent. Some mornings, if I eat as soon as I open my eyes, I feel fine, and others, I find that I’m struggling to keep food down all day. Unbeknownst to Andrej, I took a pregnancy test while we were in the hospital. It was positive, as expected.
I’m planning on telling Andrej today: my Christmas gift to him.
Downstairs, I stream Christmas tunes through the sound system and sing along while I prepare the turkey, slide it into the oven, and busy myself peeling and chopping vegetables. I miss Mika and Gianna, but I won’t leave Russia without Andrej.
And besides, the snow is still falling, and after my childhood spent growing up in Florida where the winters are mild and wet, I’m strangely excited to spend the holidays in the snow. Just the two of us. Our first and last Christmas as a couple.
I’m considering opening a bottle of wine when a chuckle startles me. I whirl around, dropping diced carrots on the floor, to find Andrej watching me from the kitchen doorway. He’s wearing sweatpants and a hoodie, his shoulders still slightly hunched as if protecting his chest wound. His hair is tousled from sleep, and his stubble has grown into a thick and neatly trimmed beard.
And he has never looked so goddamned hot.
“How long have you been watching me?”
He shrugs and leans casually against the doorframe. “Half an hour. Maybe longer. Did you know that your ass vibrates when you’re chopping vegetables?”
I pick up a carrot and throw it at him, and he dodges it easily.
He crosses the kitchen, lips set into a narrow line. He doesn’t realize that he’s doing it; taking things easy isn’t in his nature, and I think he’s aching to get back to full fitness again, so I pretend that I don’t notice.
“Sit.” I gesture to a chair at the table and switch on the coffee machine, turning my back on him so that he obeys. “We’re having French toast and mushrooms for breakfast. Then we’regoing to watch Christmas movies in the den until dinner is ready.”
“Mushrooms?” His eyebrows quirk upwards, but he lets it ride. I’m craving mushrooms this morning; I didn’t think it was odd until I said it out loud. “Does your Christmas movie list includeDie Hard?”
When I turn around, he’s watching me with his customary lazy grin, and I fight the temptation to straddle his lap and ride his cock.
“Just this once.”
“Should I get shot more often?”
“Don’t you even think about it!” I don’t even try to convince him that I’m serious. “I can’t do this again.”
“Baby…” He extends his arm and pulls me onto his lap when I take his hand. He wraps his arms around me and nuzzles my neck. “This wasn’t how I wanted you to find out about the world we live in. But I promise to be more careful next time.”
