Page 52 of The Bratva Betrayal

“No,” I say flatly. “She flirted with me for ten minutes after I looked at her like I was considering homicide.”

That finally pulls a real laugh out of her, and it’s warm and soft. The real her. “Maybe she likes emotionally unavailable men.”

“She should seek professional help.”

Cady shakes her head.

“Where is Misha taking you?”

“St. Barts.”

I stare at her for a second. “Of course, he is.”

“And what’s that supposed to mean?”

“It means my brother doesn’t know how to be creative. He takes all his little female friends there.”

Nothing slips out of her.

No jealousy, no pained glare.

“Maybe you should take a vacation,” she offers. “You need one, and some vitamin D.”

“I own a window.”

“You need more than that.”

“I can assure you I’ve been to beaches before, Lisichka. I don’t need a vacation.”

She shrugs. “Was just a suggestion.”

“Well, I am protecting you. Maybe I’ll come.”

Her brows pull together. “Please don’t.”

“You invited me to dinner three nights ago,” I remind her casually. “I thought you wanted to get to know me.”

“That was before you started following me around like a federal agent with anger issues. You’d hate St. Barts anyway. Too much sun. Too many people enjoying themselves.”

“I can tolerate both.”

“No, you tolerate murder and vodka. There’s a difference.”

“That’s a little judgmental.”

“You shot at me yesterday. I’m going to judge the shit out of you.”

No, I shot at your car.

“You’re paranoid,” I say. “I think it’s cute you think that was me.”

“You arrived thirty seconds later, looking like you’d planned the entire thing. I’m not an idiot.”

“I’m just efficient.”

“You’re just suspicious.”

“We can keep going back and forth with that game, Lisichka, but there’s only going to be one winner.”