Page 39 of Bratva Bastard

Maxim nodded, and although he didn’t speak, I could tell that he understood, and he wasn’t blaming me or criticizing my decision. But the look in his eyes—those heavy blue eyes that held all the loneliness of the sea—stared back at me with a crushing sadness.

“Then I’ll come back to you as soon as I can.” His words were said with a layer of determination amongst the pain of goodbye.

“How long will you be gone?” I asked.

He sighed, rubbing the back of his neck. “I’m not sure. I’d like to think I’ll be back within a week or two, but I have no idea what’s going to happen at that meeting. I’ll call you, though. We’ll keep in touch, and as soon as I know when I’m coming back, you’ll be the first person I’ll tell.”

Biting my lip to keep from crying, I nodded. It was the only thing I could do without falling apart in front of him. The pain was too much, too crushing, and I needed to get away. To separate myself from the aching that was tearing me apart from the inside.

He grabbed my shoulders, and I looked up at him, my vision blurring from tears that begged to spill over. But once I opened the floodgates, there’d be no stopping the outpour.

“Cristiana,” he said, my name rolling off his tongue in a way that made my insides pool with desire and affection. A cruel joke the universe had given me since I couldn’t have neither. “I promise, I’ll come back to you. All I ask is that you wait for me.”

His lips brushed against mine in a gentle, tender kiss that held so much more intimacy than any other kiss we’d shared. Because that kiss held a promise, and a despair. A hope for the future, but the sting of goodbye.

That kiss was both my favorite, and my worst.

We spent the night together, enjoying one another’s company, absorbing every second we could spend together. There was a period where we sat on the bed in silence, just looking at each other. His eyes bore into mine, filled with so many questions—ones I wished I had the answers to, but I had many questions of my own. Starting with, what would I do when he was gone? It would be like an emptiness in my heart, one that I was unprepared to handle.

After a while, his voice broke the silence with the perfect request. “Kiss me, solnechnyy svet.”

My lips brushed against his, and I smiled, happy to oblige, temporarily letting go of the heartache. With my head resting on his chest, I peeked up at him and asked, “Why do you call me solnechnyy svet? What does it mean?”

He smiled, his cheeks flushing a bit—something I’d rarely seen. “It means sunshine. You brighten the room when you walk into it, with your sunny disposition. Your radiance and light conquer the shadows of my soul, the darkness I try to keep locked away. That’s why I call you my solnechnyy svet.”

That night, we didn’t have sex. The only thing we did was sit, and talk, and stare, and snuggle. We enjoyed our time together, pure and untainted by physical intimacies. Besides, I think our emotions were too high, our brains too scattered, to enjoy making love.

When I woke up tangled in his arms the next morning, I wanted to lay there for a few more minutes, knowing this could be the last time for a while. I wanted to savor this moment, just him and me, without interruptions or problems.

He looked peaceful, like he didn’t have a care in the world. The lines around his eyes had softened, his lips were parted ever-so-slightly, and his breaths were soft and even. The night’s sleep had left his hair tousled, and he was sporting a sexy five-o’clock shadow. He was the epitome of a beautiful man. I could literally lay here forever and stare at him.

But I had to get up, because reality was about to smack me in the face, and it was time for Maxim to get up, shower, and catch his flight. But before he left, he said, “I’ve instructed Andrei to stay close by and keep you safe. Think of him as your own bodyguard.”

I nodded, pulling him in for a kiss.

Our last kiss for who knew how long. I just hoped that he could keep his promise.

16

Maxim

Another plane ride back to Moscow. Believing it would be the safer route, Dimitry and I were taking a public plane. And because we were riding on a public plane, we were stuck with the only flight available last minute—one that made two stops.I fucking hate planes.As if the ride wouldn’t be long enough…

Watching the plane land in Russia was a bittersweet experience. Finally, I’d come home. Yet, I wasn’t as excited as I thought I’d be. When I had originally left for Brazil, I couldn’t wait to get back home to Russia, to my ordinary life.

But now Russia seemed so, I don’t know, empty. Boring. It didn’t feel like home as much as it used to. Honestly, it was becoming harder and harder to know where home was. Without my mother, St. Petersburg was nothing more than a residence, a place to live. And Moscow? That was my brothers’ home, not mine.

Besides, I wasn’t coming back to Russia to go home, I was only coming back to sort out this bullshit with Sorokin. Anticipation filled me as we landed, and for the first time in my life, I was truly scared of what was to come. What if Sorokin hurt Misha and his family, or Dimitry and Gemma? What if he attacked Ivan and Willow, or their baby?

What if he found out about Crissy and went after her?

I’d never felt so vulnerable. See, this was exactly why I hated love. If only I could go back to not giving a shit about everyone, then I wouldn’t have to worry about them. But it was too late for that.

Still, I was a Chernoff—and I’ll bedamnedif I give into my fear so easily.Fuck Sorokin.He could go to hell for all I give a fuck, and I’d make damn sure I put him six feet under. He thought he could fuck with a Chernoff? The Koslovs? He’d be sorry he ever tried to fuck with us.

As soon as I was able to, I called Crissy.

“Hello?” she answered in a sing-song voice. Judging by the time it was here, it must’ve been early in Brazil, just after her first yoga class.

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