“Bratva,” Nero corrects. “This is the bratva.”
He twists his kissable lips, disappointing me that I went for the route society deems acceptable even after he’s proven time and time again the past week that it isn’t close to what I crave.
“And I guess it depends.”
“On?” I ask, his reply seemingly unfinished, and fighting like hell not to backflip on my earlier decision.
Nothing but honesty rings in his tone when he steps so close to me that I can smell my perfume on his skin. “On how you want to punish him.” He frees my lower lip from my menacing teeth before he says, “He stoleyourbelongings, butterfly. So you’re the only one who can choose his punishment.”
I place down the engraved napkin ring before stepping closer to him. I’m grateful for the natural rub of my thighs. I need something to take the edge off before I make a fool of myself.
“Is that how it usually works in the bratva?”
With how fast the bulge in Nero’s crotch grows, you’d swear I moaned my last word while climaxing. That’s how rapidly his cock thickens from my underhanded respect of his world.
“Is the person who was hurt always the judge of their perpetrator’s punishments?”
My answer doesn’t come from Nero. It is from a voice outside the room. “Not always… but a king who respects his queen is always open to compromise.”
My heart patters in my ears when Nikolai enters the room. He has the swagger of a man who knows how attractive he is but also the aura of a mass murderer. Unlike the times we’ve met previously, when his wife-to-be was present, he screams danger and is extremely on edge.
After taking in my flushed cheeks and Nero’s balled hands, Nikolai shifts to his left. “Is everything here?”
Again, the chance to answer is given by an outside source. “From what I can see, yeah.”
A guy who’d have to be at least seven feet tall joins our trio, plumping it out to a quartet. I’ve seen him previously, though we’ve never officially met. He was behind the steering wheel of the vehicle Nero was seated in when I exited the hotel.
“Though I wouldn’t say no to a second look from someone in the know.”
When everyone’s eyes shift to me, I melt like a popsicle on a hot summer’s day.
It isn’t in a good way.
Nero’s gaze is still hooded, but some of the lust brimming in his eyes only moments ago has switched to anger, meaning they now house as much unease as Nikolai and the unnamed man hold.
They’re hard for me to read. I can’t tell if they’re looking at me as their friend or the enemy Trey warned Nero about earlier.
“Um…” I swallow to replenish my throat with spit before saying, “We did a stock take recently to prepare for tax season. I have a copy of the report on my laptop…”
My words trail off when the unnamed man hands me the printout he’s clasping. It is an itemized list of the items in my warehouse, an exact replica of the one I typed up.
“Where did you get this?” I ask, the printout too familiar to discount.
It is frommylaptop. I have no doubt about that.
“Answer Eight’s question first,” Nero says, his tone a mix of danger and seduction. “Then we will move on to smoothing that groove between your brows, butterfly.”
My libido surges from his underhanded comment that we’re about to get frisky, but for once, my brain overrules it.
“Have you been spying on me?”
“Butterfly—”
“Answer me, goddamnit!” I shout, too angry about having my feelings stomped on over and over again to realize I am taking my frustration out on the wrong people.
Nikolai looks like he wants to slit my throat. Eight appears amused. But Nero… he looks like he wants to devour me where I stand, one perfectly placed lick, bite, and poke at a time.
My backbone turns him on, so it is only fair I give him some of the sass he’s worked hard to unearth in an astonishingly quick time.
