Page 52 of Sexting my Bratva Daddies

“Sit.” I patted the seat. “This will take a few minutes.”

She sat, sliding the folder across the table. The way she looked at me threatened my morals and my decision.

I reminded myself that this was not lying. The threat was real. “We have enemies, Peyton. That is not news to you, and I will not insult your intelligence by pretending otherwise.”

“I noticed.” Her smile faltered. “Does this have anything to do with last week?”

“Yes, and no. Please just listen. These enemies have a pattern of going after the people closest to us when they want our attention.” I held her gaze and ran my fingertips up and down her forearm. “You’ve become one of those people. Whether you asked for that or not, it’s true. You’re connected to us, and anyone watching us knows it.”

“But to anyone looking, I’m just your secretary.” She tapped her fingers on the folder. “Has that changed?”

“The last time these people came after us, they eliminated half our staff on a whim.” Another truth, but perhaps a bit too much. I wanted her to understand but not be terrified.

Silence ticked, my heartbeat keeping time as Peyton stared. She examined every line of my face. “You think I’m in danger.”

“I think the possibility is real enough that I’m not willing to ignore it.”

A please rested on the back of my tongue. I swallowed to keep it down. Bratva did not ask. I had already pushed that line by not demanding that she obey.

Peyton took her time thinking over my request. It was one of the things that made her so good at her job and difficult for others to read. “What are you asking, exactly?”

“We want you to move into the house.” I took the folder from her and scooted it to the side, out of the way. “Temporarily, if that is your wish. At least until the situation is resolved. One of us would be with you whenever you weren’t inside the building. Going to work. Coming home. Anywhere in between. Essentially, you would have your very own bodyguard.”

Another stretch of silence twisted tight.

Peyton sat back, her arms crossing loosely over her stomach. Her foot tapped a couple of times, then she shook her head. “No.”

“Peyton.”

“Think about it.” She sat forward. “If I’m suddenly arriving and leaving at the same time as the three of you, every single day, how long will it be before someone notices? How long before your enemies notice? Right now, I’m just another employee. Just another variable. If the goal is to keep me safe without drawing attention to how close we are, putting me in your back pocket accomplishes the opposite.”

I hadn’t expected a tactical argument from her. Not because she was not brilliant but because I’d assumed that like most women, the threat to her life would immediately push her to agree.

I should have known better. “What do you suggest?”

“Not that.”

Good. She might still listen to me. “Fine. Alternative plan. One of us rides with you. Then we can stagger our entrances into the office.”

She bit her lip, uncertainty racing across her face. Her pulse jumped, and the drumming of her fingers on the table cranked up. She started to say something, then stopped.

My heart did one of those nosedives that I cranked back with all my might to keep it from meaning anything.

“But…” She cut herself off with a shake of her head.

Oh, I did not like this. What other objection could she have and remain innocent? Coming up with excuses only made her more suspicious. My stomach twisted. Did she want to keep her freedom because all our fears were coming true and she really was a spy for Anton?

I studied her face, hating that I couldn’t read it the way I needed to. She’d always been transparent with us, or appeared to be, but I sat across from her and had no idea what she was thinking. The fact that I couldn’t read her innocence or her guilt twisted my gut and suggested exactly how far I’d already fallen for this woman.

21

PEYTON

Yes. Say yes. Why couldn’t I convince my mouth to open and unleash the word stuck on loop in my head?

Because I wanted it too much. The answer came with the weight of all my expectations. Breathe. I had to breathe and get through this moment. I could make it work.

“Fine.” I unfolded my arms, tossing my falling hair over my shoulder at the same time, and pressed my palms flat against the table to keep them still. “I’ll need to stop at my place first. Pack some things.”