Raven
I Tapped my foot along with the music playing in my head, trying to distract myself from the rising tension in the room. The vodka had done its job, making me warm and loose. My cheeks were flushed, and my body seemed unable to stay still.
“Raven, do you need something to drink?” Mariya asked gently, resting a hand on my knee.
“Something with alcohol,” I blurted out. “Lots of alcohol. I think I need it.”
The adrenaline was wearing off quickly, leaving me even more on edge and shaky.
Mariya narrowed her eyes at Bryan and jerked her head toward the corner.
Rising, Bryan said, “Yes, darling. I will make drinks.”
The moment he was out of immediate earshot, Mariya leaned closer. “Chris is coming. Bryan won’t harm you.” She let out a heavy sigh. “I don’t know why he planned this, but I am truly sorry, sweetheart.”
She wrapped her arm around my shoulder and brought me in for a hug. This woman was a dichotomy. Fierce on one hand but loving and tender on the other.
Mariya was a loving mother. One who had lost her only child because of Bryan’s stubbornness, if Chris was correct in his accounts.
Bryan returned, and Mariya withdrew her arm as he handed me a glass. It had just a hint of pink and I brought it to my nose. Vodka with just a splash of cranberry juice, if I wasn’t mistaken.
I took a sip, the familiar burn of the alcohol sliding down my throat and warming my belly. Fuck, I was going to be drunk by the time Chris even got here.
But hell, if I didn’t need it if I were going to survive in the presence of Bryan the Bratva Pakhan.
Taking a healthy drink, I drained half the glass and placed it on the table before me. On a coaster, because I wasn’t a savage.
And maybe because I didn’t want to cross Mariya if I got a water stain on the fancy coffee table.
“We’ll make a good Russian wife out of you, little one.” Bryan winked at me.
Fucking winked.
Was this my life? Because I felt like I may have been dreaming this whole goddamn day.
I clenched my jaw to keep from speaking because I was now decently tipsy if the burning in my cheeks was any indication. However, that could just be my nerves and the fact that Chris inherited most of his good looks from his grandfather.
Obviously.
I would consider myself a very lucky woman indeed if Chris aged as nicely as Bryan. Especially the way he kept his full head of hair. The perfect mix of salt and pepper. I only hoped it was natural and not dyed, because that would be a shame.
Mariya coughed, the sound suspiciously forced.
“Damn it,” I grumbled, picking up the glass and draining the rest of the contents. “I was saying everything out loud, wasn’t I?”
“I can assure you my hair is quite natural. Mariya can confirm, can’t you darling?” He gave me a wicked grin, the gesture so reminiscent of Chris I could only openly stare at Bryan.
Mariya patted my hand with a smile. “It’s okay, sweetheart. Luckily Bryan has a good sense of humor.”
“Just what I need.” I blew a stray piece of hair out of my eyes. “A Bratva boss with a sense of humor.”
Bryan threw his head back and let out a boisterous laugh. “You slay me, little one. I know what my Chris sees in you.”
“I’m notyourChris.”
My eyes grew wide at the sound of Chris’s voice, and I sprang to my feet.
Sudden movements like that weren’t advisable when I was stone-cold sober, so it was no surprise it was a disaster when I was tipsy. I stumbled over my foot, and cringed as I went careening toward the table.
Chris’s arms wrapped around me in a flash and brought me against his rock-hard chest. His caramel eyes were warm as he inspected me, probably checking for injuries from Bryan. “I can’t leave you alone for five minutes, can I?”
“Not my fault I got kidnapped by two goons with guns,” I muttered.
Eyes hardening, Chris gently placed me on the couch and kissed my forehead. “Hi, Babushka.” He kissed Mariya’s cheek and gave her a quick hug.
“I’m sorry, rodnoy.”
“It’s not your fault,” he bit out through gritted teeth. “It’s his.”
Chris didn’t even look in Bryan’s direction.
I grabbed his hand, tears filling my eyes. Damn it, I was an emotional drinker. “Please, can we just go home?” I pleaded, my voice cracking. “Please, Chris.”
I desperately wanted to call him Daddy A, but I didn’t want to expose that side of his life to Bryan. He didn’t deserve to know that about his life.
“We need to talk, son.”
Fucking hell.
Hands curling into fists, Chris whirled around with barely contained fury. “You have no right to call me ‘son.’ Not for many reasons. I would list them all out, but my girl is tired and traumatized, thanks to you, so I’m fucking leaving.”
Without another word, Chris bent down and gathered me into his arms. I wrapped my arms around his neck and rested my head against his chest. I was trembling, and the tears escaped from the corners of my eyes despite desperately fighting them.
Bryan yelled in Russian, something I couldn’t even begin to understand. Mariya joined in, obviously trying to settle Bryan down.
Chris hesitated for a handful of seconds. Whatever Bryan and Mariya were saying was affecting him.
I laid my hand on his cheek, and his haunted eyes glanced down at me. “Let’s go home. We can calm down, and then you can call them tomorrow.”
“I don’t fucking deserve you.” He kissed me gently, then walked out the door to the waiting SUV.