Page 18 of Bratva Bastard

Maxim

I’d debated for hours whether to go to the bar that night. Did I want to see Crissy? Absolutely. But was I still pissed that she was being so secretive about her boyfriend? Yes.

It wasn’t so much that she didn’t mention him—maybe she wasn’t that into him—but she was in total denial about her feelings. I could tell she was attracted to me. The chemistry between us—we’d clicked from the moment we started talking. That didn’t happen every day for me.

The way she looked at me, the look in her eyes… I knew she wanted me as badly as I wanted her. But seeing her at the bar would be like dangling the carrot—always out of reach, and never able to be grasped.

I wanted to see her. Even if I wasn’t ready to speak to her, I wanted her to be around, almost waiting for me to come over. Conceited? Maybe, but can I help that it was how I felt?

When I got to the bar, I greeted Crissy with a nod, my silent way of saying hello. Her gaze across the room pulled me in, making me want to march over to that bar and demand that she give me a chance. One date. But my stubbornness was stronger, and instead, I marched over to a table across the room.

Peeking at her from the corner of my eyes, I busied myself, bringing my attention to anything but the bar. That allowed me to stew in my own emotions.

Why didn’t she mention her boyfriend? Not even one story the entire time we talked. What girlfriend wouldn’t mention her boyfriend once during a 23-hour flight?

But my inner dialogue was interrupted by a voluptuous dark-haired woman who caught my eye, and was looking my way. She was gorgeous, yes, but I wasn’t in the mood to flirt. Then again, maybe a little flirtation would make Crissy jealous enough to finally admit how she felt.

I approached the woman, saying the one line that wasn’t a come on. “Hello. How are you on this fine evening?”

She smiled, batted her lashes, turned to putty like the usual woman did in my presence. My mother always said I had a charming smile.

Gesturing to the empty seat beside her, she said, “Sit down and I’ll tell you about my evening.”

I obliged, taking a seat, glancing back to Crissy just long enough to see if she’d looked my way. And she had, but I don’t think she noticed me noticing. Or, she didn’t react like she did. Strangely, her expression was determined, not jealous or lovesick.

Damn, once again, she throws me off my game. I think I have the winning shot, and she swoops in, making me fumble and trip all over myself like it’s my first game. The lack of control kept me unsteady in her presence.

When I sat down the woman said, “My evenings just turned out a whole lot better now that you’re here.”

So much for no pick-up lines. Jeez, did I really look that cheap?

The conversation from there flowed with ease. It was nowhere near as interesting as mine and Crissy’s conversation, but the woman had a sense of class and elegance. She was more intelligent than I’d originally assumed, so at least it wasn’t like talking to a light pole.

The bar had picked up, busier than it was the previous night, and Crissy only made her way to our table once, bringing us another round of drinks. Her coworker had brought us the first round, much to my disappointment.

After a few drinks, I had to piss, so I excused myself to use the restroom. Both sets of eyes—Crissy’s and the woman’s—were stuck to my back like a grass burr.

The line for the men’s room felt like forever. How did so many guys need to piss in such a small bar? When I finally did get back, the woman asked if I wanted to finish off with a nightcap in her hotel room. Why did women want to sleep with me before even trying to learn my name? I should’ve been offended, but truth be told, I couldn’t give a fuck.

I took a sip of my drink. Her eyes watched me expectantly, so I took another sip or two, avoiding her invitation. Normally, I would. But I’m supposed to be keeping a low profile, and hooking up with some random chick from town wasn’t the best way to do that. Besides, there may have been other reasons I was so hesitant to agree…

With perfect timing, Crissy approached our table, her voice low when she said, “Can we talk for a minute? In private?”

Oh, now she wants to talk? She waits until a gorgeous woman invites me up to her room to have a discussion. I sighed, clicking my tongue in irritation. “Alright, fine.” Turning to the woman, I said, “Excuse me one moment.”

I swore, her eyes were daggers pointed at Crissy, but that didn’t slow Crissy down one bit. She ushered me outside, nearly tripping over a decoration in the grass as she pulled me around the corner.

Why was she taking me out here?

She glanced around, making sure no one was looking, but why? What was she planning? A worried crease between her eyes, and the way she chewed her lip, left me uneasy.

I huffed out a breath, tapping my foot impatiently. “Well? What’d you want to talk about?”

“Maxim, listen to me.” Her tone was urgent, imperative.

I leaned closer to hear her words that were so low and quick, it was hard to understand.

“I’m going to start from the beginning, so stay with me. Earlier today, our security guard pointed out two Russian men who’ve been creeping around the hotel. I overheard them talking to that woman in a cafe earlier, and while I don’t speak Russian, I did hear them say your name. They said something about you liking beautiful women. After that, it got kind of jumbled, but I’m pretty sure they said something about killing or death. But that’s not all.”

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