Page 3 of Sexting my Bratva Daddies

A low buzz of conversation started behind me, and the hairs lifted on the back of my neck.

Uh-oh. I knew that feeling.

They were here, in the lunchroom. I pulled in a quick breath just as Elena sat back, her chin notching up. She cleared her throat, and I yanked my phone into my lap as Viktor paused beside our table.

My nerves were already shot thanks to my faux pas upstairs. I absolutely could not let them catch sight of the message thread.

“You’re not eating?” Leonid spoke from behind me, too far away for me to see him without craning my neck.

“I haven’t had time to grab anything. I wanted to talk to Elena.” Why was I explaining myself? It was none of his business whether I ate. I sank my teeth into my inner cheek to stop the spiral and to keep from saying anything else out of hand. “Did you need something? I’m sorry, I assumed you were taking lunch as well.”

“We are.” Viktor remained close enough that his suit jacket brushed my shoulder. “There was a last-minute change after you left. Once you finish here, we need you to reschedule our meetings for the afternoon.”

“No rush.” Leonid spoke again, his voice a low caress on the back of my neck.

Mikhail cleared his throat. “We’re going to be late if we do not leave now. Apologies for disturbing your lunch.” He brushed past the table, his dark blue suit tight across his shoulders.

I might never get used to the sight of them. What was it about men in suits that I found attractive? Not the money. I had enough to take care of myself. The power? Maybe. They were all older than me by a decade, but sexy as hell. I mean, why shouldn’t I find men in their thirties attractive?

Viktor tugged his cuffs and stepped back. “Enjoy your afternoon.” He followed Mikhail. Leonid fell in step beside him, the two of them deep in conversation before they reached the far side of the room.

A collectively held breath rushed out, and the air in the room loosened.

I buffed my arms and set my phone on the table.

Elena chuckled, her own color heightened as she gazed after them. “You are some kind of crazy to be able to work with them every single day. Do you not find them intimidating?”

“All the time.” I tried to shrug, but my body refused to cooperate. “Can you imagine if they’d seen my phone?” I pointed at the black screen. “I’ve already embarrassed myself once today.”

“Who knows, maybe it would have made Viktor jealous.” Elena waggled her eyebrows. “Or Leonid. He seemed rather disturbed that you were not eating.”

“Right.” I snorted. “Gorgeous as they are, I can only imagine what their concern about my eating habits might be.” A wince pulled my cheeks. “Oof. That came out of nowhere. Guess I’m not as healed about my body and not projecting my insecurities as I thought.”

Elena patted my arm. “I do not know how you can work for them. They are untouchable. Terrifying.” She shuddered, her delicate shoulders trembling beneath her black shirt. Her eyes gleamed as she leaned toward me. “And I have heard that they’re Bratva.”

I waved her off. “People love to talk. It’s because they’re Russian. Like there aren’t tons of Russians in New York who are completely legitimate businessmen.”

Elena watched me, her expression curious. “You don’t believe they are Bratva? My sources are certain. Not only Bratva, but very high up in the New York sector.”

“No.” I refused to believe it. Bratva were akin to boogeymen.

They were cold and cruel. “I will agree that they’re intimidating, and they are in incredible shape for men who sit behind desks all day, but that does not make them Bratva.” I’d sooner believe I’d wake up tomorrow looking like a supermodel than think of those three men behind all the heinous acts the Bratva were responsible for in our city.

My phone buzzed. I grinned and swiped once Elena indicated that she didn’t mind and went back to her salad.

Ah, I have offended you. Hence your sudden silence and rejection of me. It must be corrected immediately. Your profile states that you are a fan of Joan Jett and would love to go to a concert one day. This begs the question: Have you ever fucked to her music?

I gasped at the audacity and covered my face with one hand, peeking through my fingers at the message.

Elena laughed, one hand over her mouth. “You must answer him. And when you do, tell him all the things you want. Live your life, Peyton. There is no reason for you to hide your sexuality or your desires.”

“It isn’t that easy.”

“Yes, it is.” She swiped my phone before I could stop her, her fingers flying over the screen.

I dove for it, but she was too fast, sending the message and handing me back my phone with a wicked grin.

“You can thank me later.” She stood, picking up her empty bowl and bottle.