Stolen: A Dark Bratva Mafia Romance (A Massacre of Roses Book 1) by Charlotte Royalin

Author:Charlotte Royalin [Royalin, Charlotte]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Published: 2021-07-31T16:00:00+00:00

13

Andrei

“They’re working the East block today,” I told June as she rushed out, van keys jingling in her hand as three other Roses slowly exited the front of the house. She nodded at me, waving a hand farewell as she rushed.

“Yes, sir. See you soon!” she called back to me as she scurried down to the driveway, packed with many other vehicles my subordinates drove, including my own. Two of the Roses, whose names I’d long forgotten, gave forced smiles, waving to me, and warranted little more than a snort at their presence. The third woman narrowed her eyes as she stomped off.

That one was Marigold, I remembered. Only because she had gotten into as much trouble as Amy recently. Supposed to be selling coke, instead got caught stealing bags. She was lucky she wasn’t getting sold off. I thought back to her rudeness. At least she only got dropped to working the streets once again, selling her body instead. She was good for little else, I thought, careless of how cruel it might have been.

The swing on the front porch creaked slightly, the ropes tense as I slowly rocked myself forward, and the woman at my side, who sat there quietly with a glass in hand. Evette had refused to look at the women as they exited, resigned to herself. The last few days, she’d been rather quiet and had even made little fuss with June.

While it hadn’t felt awkward, personally, since I fucked her I’d felt weird spending time alone with her. I hadn’t owed her a damn thing. Not my time, my affections, nor a listening ear. And yet, I had desired to give her a little of each. Only with her now quiet state, it was pointless. I cleared my throat, garnering her attention for a few seconds before she went back to looking around at the several men wandering the perimeters. Each of them held assault rifles in their arms as they moved to switch positions for the afternoon.

The wind was a pleasant respite from the warmth that came from the relentless sun, just like the shade on the porch was. It had been hot as all hell lately, enough to force me out of my usual suits and into more casual clothing of slacks and a fitted shirt instead. Not a cloud in the sky; the cool, damp surface of my glass a welcome relief from the heat.

I chewed on the inside of my cheek, glancing over at Evette, only to realize she was looking at me again.

I raised a brow. “What is it?”

“I had a question.”

“Ask,” I said, leaning back in the country-style swing, my voice strained with a bit of impatience. As much as I told her to behave, her sudden coyness was making me impatient, when I only wanted to know what the hell she wanted. That unusual quietness made me uneasy. She examined her fingernails, pinching her lips together while she pressed back at her cuticles, taking her sweet time before she responded.

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