Page 50 of Sexting my Bratva Daddies

“Explain this step back.” Misha leaned against the edge of the counter, wine in one hand and the other splayed across the marble.

“Just… go back to how things were before. No sex in the office.” I managed to keep from blushing. Weeks of sex with them had given me a newfound confidence, and I needed every ounce. “I’m sorry that I crossed that line, only to go back on it now.”

“Are you sorry for the things we have done in the office?” Viktor gave me one of his lowered brow, dark looks.

I shook my head. “No. Absolutely not. I have loved every single minute of it, and I wouldn’t mind continuing. But I don’t want people to find out. If they find out, they’ll think that’s the only reason you hired me. My professional career will be ruined.”

“Peyton, we would never let that happen.” Leo took a step toward me and framed my face in his hands. “But we understand. We can do this for you. We will do this for you. We respect your boundaries, whatever they may be.”

Misha released a long sigh, his head shaking from side to side. “Pity. I had such delicious fantasies I was about to indulge next week.” He met my eyes and winked. “I suppose we will have to play them out here. And I will be thinking of you every day as I sit behind my desk. You have done some naughty things, Peyton. Things that have made my visions of you become even filthier.”

Yes, I’d done some crazy things in their offices. Things that made me wet just thinking about. I hated to give up that part of our romance, but it had to be done.

I kissed Leo, leaning into his side. “Thank you for understanding. As for you, Misha.” I drew out his name with a laugh. “In this house, I will be anything you want me to be.”

Even prey. He hadn’t yet asked me to fulfil that fantasy again, but I had every confidence he would at some point.

20

LEO

“I want this motherfucking bastard’s head on a platter.” I eyed Viktor and Misha across the table, my elbows on the table and fingers steepled against my chin.

Viktor made a noise of agreement. “Three legitimate businesses hit in five days.”

Viktor ticked off each one on his fingers. “First, the restaurant on Kensington receives a health code violation that brings in a health inspection. The anonymous complaint was specific enough that it could only come from someone inside the kitchen.”

He raised another finger. “Then the import warehouse gets a licensing flag. Finally, two of our best managers at the hotel walk off from the same shift within an hour of each other and both are suddenly, inexplicably unavailable by phone.”

And every replacement we’d interviewed just so happened to have a link to Anton. Not close enough that it drew immediate suspicion, but after some digging, it all came to light.

“Someone is feeding him information.” Misha sat back in his chair, twirling a pen between his fingers.

Viktor closed his laptop and ground the heels of his hands against his eyes. I’d seen Peyton perform that same gesture, and the sight of that level of aggravation from my most analytical mind churned my stomach.

Voices trickled in from the back.

Peyton’s voice.

I tried very hard not to think about that. She would be saying goodnight to her friends and showing the last of our clients out. We had mere minutes alone.

Misha rubbed his thumb across his bruised knuckles. He leaned forward slightly, his knuckles going to his cheek. He’d been interrogating anyone and everyone he managed to track down for four days straight. The rotating roster of men all had the same answers to our questioning. None of them knew anything.

They had no idea who fed information from our corporation to Anton.

Our leak was either very good at hiding or very good at pointing fingers at people who were not responsible. The problem was not knowing which was real.

A leak who was good at hiding meant we were chasing a ghost.

A leak good at misdirection meant we were doing Anton’s work for him, burning through our own people while the real traitor watched us tear ourselves apart from the inside.

Either way, Anton won.

The only difference was how long it took us to figure out which people were on our side and which ones needed another incentive to stay away.

People Misha had bruised and bloodied his knuckles torturing. His eyes had gone dark days ago, soulless. The only time the light returned was when he saw Peyton.

“How many did you fire this week?” I swung my attention to Viktor, unable to look at Misha lest my heart crack.