“You and your men showed me who you really are.”
That’s only b-because you d-don’t know me.”
Drawing her shoulders back, Sarah challenged, “I’m not naive, Maksim. I know you’re involved in some shady shit. From the tattoos on you and your men and the fact you’re Russian, I’d wager you’re Russian mafia.”
Well fuck me. Sarah was a hell of a lot smarter than even I’d previously imagined. We’d barely spent twelve hours together, and she’d already unearthed my secret.
I should’ve told her she was wrong. That she’d let her imagination run away with her. That I was just your average businessman who just happened to be of Russian descent.
But I respected her too much for that.
Nodding, I replied, “You’re right. I’m B-Bratva.”
Snapping her finger, she cried, “That’s it!Bratva. For the life of me, I couldn’t think of that word earlier.”
“Now you know the t–truth, you’re still not scared?”
“Should I be?”
“Of me? Never. Of my b-brothers and associates? Never. Of my enemies? Yes.”
Sarah’s resolve faded slightly. But then she said, “As my mom always says, ‘Worrying about tomorrow won’t help today’.”
I smiled. “She sounds like a wise woman.”
“She is,” Sarah replied with a somewhat haunted look.
“Can we start t-treatment in the morning?”
“Yes, I think that would be good.”
With a nod, “One of my b-bodyguards will remain in the house with you.” When she opened her mouth to protest, I said, “For your safety, not your imprisonment.”
“Fine.”
“If you need me, just ask, and he will g-get me on the p–phone. Order whatever you want from t-the cook, and you’re free t-to explore the house.”
“I’ll be fine, Maksim. You need to go.”
“It might b-be late when I g-get back, so I’ll see you in t-the morning.”
After she gave me a little wave, I reluctantly left her for the second time that day.
CHAPTER SIXTEEN: SARAH
After Maksim once again left me, I found myself alone with another impossibly built, tattooed Russian. He even had dark hair like Maksim’s. I was starting to think you had to be a certain size and height just to work for Maksim, so that you could match his and his brothers’ genetics.
The man stood stiff and formal in the doorway. He reminded me of how Lev acted earlier like armed assassins were going to burst in at any moment.
Making my way over to him, I extended my hand. “I’m Sarah.”
Ignoring my hand, he replied, “Oleg.”
Like the Beast, he had a Russian accent. Tilting my head at him, I said, “I have a question, Oleg.”
“Yes, ma’am.”
“Do any men under six feet and two hundred pounds belong to Bratva?”
