Page 75 of The Bratva Betrayal

Cady

The roses arrive at seven forty-three in the morning.

The buzzer sounds, and the doorman's voice comes through the intercom.

"Miss Gallagher. There's a delivery. Several, actually. I’m… well… there are quite a lot of them, Miss."

Twenty dozen red roses arrive in four trips, filling my entryway, kitchen counter, dining table, and a concerning portion of my living room floor.

Then, the well-thought-out card.

You and I make sense. Say yes. — M

I set it down very carefully on the kitchen counter, pour the rest of my coffee down the sink before I throw it across the living room, and stand in the middle of my rose-invaded penthouse, thinking about all the ways I could respond to this and which one would land me in the least amount of trouble.

You and I make sense.

Not I want to spend my life with you.

Not I can't imagine anyone else.

Not even the bare minimum effort of Will you marry me, structured like a question.

It's a deal dressed up in two hundred and forty roses that I hate, from a man who has never asked what kind of flowers I like because it never occurred to him that I might have a preference.

I look at the roses for a long moment.

Then I go get dressed.

Misha must be having a psychotic break.

There’s no way the former playboy would ever want to settle down.

He’s lost his mind.

—

My father's newest contribution to my life arrives outside my door at eight sharp, which tells me he was expecting this reaction and prepared accordingly.

Two bodyguards.

Both enormous. Both wearing the blank expression of men who've been told their job is to watch me.

I look at them for a moment.

They look back.

"Names," I grind out through my teeth as I glower at them.

The taller one, his jaw like stone and his neck wider than my thigh, mumbles, "Sullivan."

The shorter one, who’s no less imposing, says, "Flynn."

Sullivan and Flynn.

I look them over once, doing a rapid analysis of whether I can lose them and how long it would take, then decide I can’t.

Not today, anyway.