Page 38 of The Bratva Betrayal

“Hold still,” he demands quietly.

The gauze touches my cheek, and I tense on instinct. Not because he’s rough, but because he’s by me. He’s touching me. He smells amazing.

Artem doesn’t strike me as gentle, but the way he cleans the cut is careful enough. His hand steadies against my jaw while he works, fingers warm against my face, and I become painfully aware of every inch of contact.

Misha leans against the island, watching us with no sense of how to read a room. “You probably need stitches.”

“She doesn’t,” Artem answers before I can. “It’s shallow.”

“Still could scar.”

His thumb pauses against my jaw, his eyes lifting to mine for one brief second before he speaks again. “It won’t.”

Something knots in my stomach. I don’t know if it’s the confidence in his voice or the fact that he sounds irritated by the idea.

Misha sighs dramatically, rubbing the back of his neck. “This is such a fucking mess.”

Artem tosses the bloody gauze aside and reaches for another one. “That’s because you don’t think ahead.”

“Oh, here we fuckin’ go. Don’t start, Artem.”

“You brought an Irish mob princess into Volkov business.”

“I’m dating her, not trafficking mob secrets.”

Artem’s eyes flick to him. “Those are surprisingly close together in this world.”

Misha points toward me like I’m evidence in an argument. “Which is why she needs protection.”

Artem cleans another streak of blood from my cheek before answering. “The Volkov organization doesn’t assign men to babysit Irish royalty.”

“Babysit?” I repeat sharply. “I said I didn’t need your help.”

His eyes move back to mine. “Would you prefer surveillance?”

“Neither.”

“Unfortunately, those are the available options.”

Misha pushes off the counter. “Fine. Then I’ll stay here.”

“No, you won’t.”

“Why not?”

“What are you gonna do? Call me again?” Artem sets the gauze aside. “Besides, you don’t know what you’re looking for.”

“That’s bullshit.”

“When’s the last time you took a human life?”

Misha looks frustrated before his shoulders loosen again. “Then what? We just leave her alone?”

“Well, we wouldn’t want that, would we?”

“I prefer it,” I chime in, pulling my face away before Artem’s fingers wrap possessively around my jaw.

“I’ll stay with her.”