Sinful Blaze (Chekhov Bratva Book 1)

“Daphne, yes. Please come in.” Keith gestures for me to enter his office, where Todd is also waiting. “We’ll make this quick.”

My baby flutters and kicks inside my womb, but it’s nothing compared to the knot forming inside my stomach. “What’s up?”

Todd clears his throat and glances at his brother. “It’s not that we want⁠—”

“What we want,” Keith cuts in with a sharp glance back, “is for you to maintain some semblance of propriety while you are under our employ.”

I swallow. It feels like I’m about to be fired.

“We cater to exclusive, dare I say elite, clientele who expect us to conduct ourselves discreetly and appropriately.” Keith leans against the desk and fixes his disapproving stare just below my eyes. “What you do on your own time is none of our business. But it also is not our clients’ business, either. Flaunting your… dalliances, shall we say, is unacceptable. And highly unprofessional.”

My fingertips graze the necklace at the base of my throat. Seriously? “This? This is what’s bothering you?”

“You have a giant hickey on your neck.” Todd sighs and rubs the bridge of his nose. “There’s another one on the other side, just not as big.”

Fire bursts in my cheeks.

Oh my God.

“I didn’t—I am so sorry!” I pat my dress and glance around. Obviously, I don’t have a compact mirror with me. “I didn’t realize!”

Now, Todd is the one to shoot his brother a glare. “I told you,” he mutters. To me, he offers a tight smile and nods at the door. “I believe what Keith means to say is, we are happy for you, especially after everything you’ve been through. But please, keep it covered? We want the paintings to be on display, not your sex life.”

“Of course.” I self-consciously try to cover the marks on my neck. “I’ll go take care of this right now.”

I can’t run out of that office fast enough. I told him! I knew this was going to happen! But no, Pasha and his stupid alpha-male, chest-beating ego just have to insist I walk around looking like some vampire’s mistress.

It takes effort not to slam my own office door shut. Once it’s closed, I march over to my desk and grab my phone.

ME: I’m sorry, but I have to cover these up.

I send him a selfie of the biggest hickey, making sure he can see how glaringly obvious it is.

Two seconds later, he replies.

PASHA: We already discussed this.

ME: Yeah, well, I just had another discussion with my bosses. You know, the guys who sign my paychecks? Keith all but accused me of being a slut.

PASHA: He called you what?

I can feel Pasha’s insta-rage coursing through the phone. I should probably dial it down a bit before my workplace becomes a crime scene.

ME: I can’t wear your lovebites all over my neck while I’m working. It’s highly unprofessional of me.

ME: I mean, I don’t see anyone on your staff walking around with hickeys on their necks, right?

Silence. More of it than I know what to do with. I sigh and get back to work to kill the next few hours until closing time.

Right when I’m settled into a new advertisement mockup, my phone buzzes again.

PASHA: No makeup. No turtlenecks, either. I will arrange an alternative solution.

I roll my eyes.

ME: Would you like a leopard skin singlet and a club, too?

PASHA: ?

ME: To go with your caveman act.

Pasha sends me an eye-rolling emoji, which makes me laugh out loud, because who the hell showed him where the emojis are and taught him what they mean? My money’s on Sof.

PASHA: We’re going out.

I chew at my lip for a second before responding. Don’t you have work?

PASHA: Unless there’s an emergency, I will be eating dinner with you every night from now on.

I lean back in my chair and rest a hand on my baby belly. Now, the fluttering is more than just our daughter. I just can’t help but wonder why. Why is he doing this? I never asked him to. I never claimed to be more important to him than his work, or his family, or anything.

Why do I feel so awkward about enjoying it?

I don’t know how to respond to that last text, so I leave it alone and try to distract myself with work. The reprimand from The Tweedles still echoes in the back of my mind and makes me touch my neck every thirty seconds, but I tell myself to breathe and make it to closing time.

I’m about to say “fuck it” to pissing Pasha off again by covering up with concealer when there’s a knock at my office door.

Hazel pokes her head in, then holds out a small package for me. “This just arrived for you. One of those shopping couriers?”

I frown at the white box tied with velvet ribbon in her hand. When I take it from her, I recognize the gold embossed logo on the lid.

No. No way.

Hazel steps inside and locks the door behind her. “What is it? Please, I’ve been dying to know ever since the courier made me sign for it!”

I tug on the ribbon and let it fall away. I know that ribbon, though. I know the place it came from. I know the kind of price tags they use.

“It’s… silk.” I hold up the first carefully folded layer of cloth inside the box. The fabric feels so unbelievably soft, pouring between my hands as I spread it out. “A silk scarf.”

Hazel whistles low. “Damn. Dude is not fooling around! Was that it?”

Good question. In true Pasha style, it’s not the only thing in the box. There are two buttery soft cashmere scarves, a handwoven fine linen scarf, and a heavy-but-warm raw silk scarf at the bottom.

“Let me guess.” Hazel openly stares at the hickeys on my neck, her mouth twisted in a playful smirk. “Your man is making up for branding you?”

“He didn’t brand me. We just got a little… carried away.”

“Mhm. I saw what he did to those flowers, too. Does he also pee a circle around your desk every time he visits?”

“Ew! No!” I laugh and smack her with the box lid. “He’s not that—okay, yes, he’s that bad.”

“But you don’t seem to mind.”

I sigh. “I really don’t. It’s nice. After a whole lifetime of being someone’s side prop, but never… never a priority…”

My voice cracks as emotion wells up out of nowhere. Sadness? Grief? Acceptance?

Good Lord, what’s happening to me?

Hazel rubs my arm, then pulls me in for a hug. “Hey, hey. I got you. I get that, too. I don’t know this guy well, but I gotta agree: he’s giving you everything your family wouldn’t. What your ex wouldn’t. Including—maybe even especially—a healthy daily dose of Vitamin D.”

I gasp. “Hazel! It’s not every day!”

“Damn near.”

“And how would you know?”

She grins at me and whips the first silk scarf at my baby bump. “Not all of your glow is coming from this pregnancy. I see it, and I’m happy for you. The Tweedles see it, too, but I think they’re just jealous.”

I roll my eyes as I drape the cashmere scarf around my neck. “I feel like they’re out to punish me with this stupid Conrad project.”

“Let me handle them. And, seriously, Daph—let me handle him if it gets to be too much.”

This is why Hazel and I became best friends so quickly: we had each other’s backs from Day One. Even now, years later, we’d sooner take a bullet for each other than sit back and let shit fly.

“Thanks, Haze. You’re the best.”

When Pasha pulls up into the gallery parking lot to pick me up for dinner, it’s clear he’s out to make a statement. Swapping the SUV for something that doesn’t smell like sex makes sense…

But this?

He steps out of the gleaming Lamborghini and meets me at the front door. “Ready to go?”

I glance over my shoulder to spot The Tweedles staring at me, then out the window, at the luxury car they’ll never be able to afford in a million years. If they stare any harder, they’ll start to drool.

Pasha notices the same thing and smirks. He cups the side of my face in his hand. “You look beautiful, by the way.”

I don’t have time to tell him I haven’t changed since “lunch” before he’s claiming my mouth in a wholly inappropriate kiss. If I didn’t know any better, I’d say he’s showing off.

It’s not quite peeing around my desk—but it’s not far from that, either.

“Shall we?” he purrs when he pulls away.

I’m still a little wobbly in the knees from that kiss. “Uh, yeah, yup. Sounds good.”

He helps me in and buckles me up, then walks around to get behind the wheel. “How’s your mom doing?” I ask as he starts to drive. His hand is on my thigh, as per usual. I know he’s got this possessive streak a mile long, but sometimes, it almost feels like he’s reassuring himself that I’m still here. That I do actually exist.

I get it. I feel the same way about him.

“She’s doing good. Already shopping for the baby.”

That makes me feel warm inside for a millisecond before I wonder what my own mom is doing and the warmth gets snuffed right down. “I love her. Your mother is so lovely, and beautiful! Like, really, really beautiful.”

Pasha chuckles. “What did you expect? A Russian ogre?”

“No! Just… I don’t know? Maybe I shouldn’t be so surprised. Sofiya is stunning, too. With any luck, our daughter will be blessed with some of the same.”

“Just like her mother.”

“And you,” I correct with a blush. “Although you’ve got more of that handsome ruggedness, all polished and professional but… dangerous. Like you’re not a man to mess with.”

“Keep going,” he teases. “I’m almost there.”

I swat him on the shoulder. “Is your father like that, too?”

Pasha falls silent. I instantly regret asking. I don’t even know where that came from—asking about his father. But maybe there’s a part of me that wants to know everything. For myself as much as for my baby girl.

“He’s dead,” he answers shortly.

“Oh. I’m sorry.”

“Don’t be. I’m not.”

“What… I mean, may I ask what happened?”

“Fucked the wrong woman. Got himself killed.”

“Your mother?” I could definitely believe someone would kill a man for touching her.

“No.”

Well, shit. The plot thickens. “Oh.”

I’m not exactly a wordsmith right now, and Pasha isn’t in any hurry to offer an explanation. So, since I’m feeling like I’ve delved too deep into his personal life already, I leave it alone.

We drive the rest of the way in a not-as-comfortable silence.

At least he’s still holding me.

But I can’t help feeling like I kicked a hornet’s nest I never should’ve wandered near.