Kostya A Dark Bratva Hate Story by Talbot Ginger

Author:Talbot, Ginger
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Ginger Talbot
Published: 2019-07-30T16:00:00+00:00

Chapter Fourteen

Anya

I doze again, enjoying the uninterrupted sleep. Kostya brings me dinner in the evening, and sits with me at a small table by his bedroom window. The window has bars on it, but he has opened the shutters and at least I can gaze out at the night sky. I probably won’t get to see too many more starlit vistas again in my life, so I try to commit it to memory, my eyes lingering on every white twinkle.

Silently, he serves me beef stroganoff, and sweet and sour cabbage. We sit side by side and for once I get to eat without gulping down my dinner so fast that I choke. He’s even bought a bottle of excellent cabernet for us. Just like a date.

When I’m full, I push my empty plate away. “Not bad,” I say. Actually, it’s excellent, but he doesn’t deserve compliments. “Cook it yourself?”

“I did not. If I did, you’d be chewing charcoal briquets.” He smiles, and I smile back. A little.

“More wine?” he asks.

“Please.” He refills my glass, and then his own. He’s more sober than I’ve seen him in quite some time.

“Do you like to cook?” he asks. “I can’t remember.”

I drain half my wine glass and then set it down on the table so hard that the wine sloshes over the edge and splashes on the table cloth. I look him right in the eye. “Do I like to cook?” I echo him mockingly. “Does it matter? When will I ever get the chance to cook again? When will I ever get the chance to do anything that I enjoy, again?”

Pain and guilt shine in his dark eyes, but I think of my future, trapped, some rich old pervert’s sex toy, and I don’t feel sorry for Kostya anymore.

“Yes. I wasn’t thinking. I was just trying to give you a pleasant, normal evening for once.”

“This is more for your benefit than for mine.” I’m not letting up. Why should I?

“Fair enough. Maybe it is. I always wanted to take you out on a date. I had it all planned out, our perfect evening together. Pasha got there first, unfortunately.” His gaze drops. He can’t even meet my eyes.

“What did you have planned?” I ask skeptically.

“I would have picked you up in my limousine, with a bouquet of flowers. I would have insisted on a chaperone, so that it would be clear my intentions are honorable. There was a restaurant called Nebo; that would have been our first stop.” I remember Nebo; it was the hottest ticket in Moscow three years ago, impossible to get a table unless you knew somebody. “After dinner, I would have taken you to the Patriarchy Bridge, to enjoy the nighttime view. On a clear night, it’s glorious. It would have ended with a kiss on the cheek, and you agreeing to another date.”

A rush of emotion sweeps over me, and my throat closes in sorrow. If only Pasha hadn’t spotted me. If only Kostya wasn’t Bratva. If only.

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