Page 23 of Sexting my Bratva Daddies

I understood the feeling. None of us had any business being uncertain. We did not, as a general rule, invite uncertainty into any situation. We planned. We neutralized. We did not doubt.

And yet, I could not stop myself from scanning the street in search of Peyton’s car. We were Bratva, three of the most powerful men in the world. And we stood in my family’s penthouse acting like the arrival of one woman might break us.

That was what worried me.

Peyton had power over us. Power I had never given anyone. And we’d only slept with her once.

“What if she ends it?” Viktor didn’t do anxious, but he drank the whiskey and poured a second.

“Then she ends it.” I shrugged, giving them my own strength though my heart pounded at the thought of losing Peyton. Over my dead body. “We handle it like adults.”

Misha blew out an exhale mingled with enough expletives to cause Viktor to chuckle.

“She is the best assistant we’ve ever had.” I turned away from the window. “If she does not wish to continue, we do not argue. We do not give her any reason to quit. Understood?”

Viktor lifted his glass.

Misha stared at the ceiling, his jaw working.

The intercom chimed. I checked the screen and buzzed Peyton up.

Seconds later, the elevator doors opened. Peyton stepped out and stopped.

She did that sometimes, stopped like she needed a minute to recalibrate before moving on. I’d seen her do it outside Viktor’s office when she thought no one was looking. It charmed me. Now, watching her move around the room, I understood she did it because the world kept presenting her with things she hadn’t expected.

The penthouse had that effect on people. Three thousand square feet, with those floor-to-ceiling windows and the bones my grandfather refused to update beyond what was structurally necessary. Fifty years of accumulated pieces brought from places most people only saw in photos. It was not a humble or subtle space, and Peyton stood in the middle of the room with her jaw slightly unhinged. Awe, and mild alarm shone in her green eyes.

“Hello, Peyton.” I took a step, drawing her attention over to me.

Misha had stopped pacing and stood in front of the bar, his drink firm in his grasp.

“Hi.” A shy note lowered her voice. “Sorry I’m late. I misjudged how long it would take to get from the parking garage to here.”

“We have our own garage. You should have parked here.” Misha shifted, his bulk lifting to his full height. “Did we not include that in the address?”

Her cheeks colored. “I thought it might be best to find a place on my own to park.”

Viktor started to say something but snapped his mouth shut.

“Your home is incredible. Do all three of you live here?” The wide-eyed look continued.

I guided her through the archway, working our way deeper into our home and toward the dining room where Viktor had prepared dinner.

My hand settled on the small of her back. “Yes. It made sense for us.” That was the simplified version. The full truth involved a level of trust few people survived long enough to earn. “Are you hungry?”

We’d set the table, spreading out the food much like in the club where we’d first tasted her, only with more elegance.

I pulled out a chair for her, indicating that she should sit.

“I didn’t expect dinner.” She perched on the edge of the chair, startling when I scooted it forward and poured her a glass of wine.

“This is a meeting, yes?” I winked as I finished the pour and started on my own. We’d planned a lavish meal to wine and dine Peyton in the hopes of creating the atmosphere for another incredible night. But if she turned us away, at least we’d fed her well.

She nodded, caught herself, and toyed with the stem of her glass. “It’s a bit intimidating up here. You have so many beautiful pieces of art. I can see why so many of your clients are always praising your tastes and looking to acquire.”

Misha darted a look at Viktor, who gave a barely there shake of his head. Peyton was only spewing the codewords she’d heard during her time with us. She would have no idea what they meant, and I intended to keep it that way.

I sat beside her and motioned at the food. “Viktor did his best to make some of your favorites. Please enjoy.” I added a few bites to my plate and kept a close eye on Peyton to see what choices she made.