I hadn’t planned on mentioning her. There wasn’t any reason to bring her up. “Sadie,” I say, glancing down at the amber liquid. I lift the glass to my lips and swallow all of it at once.
“Sadie,” Mikhail repeats. “Are you fucking her? Because Luka and Hannah are getting married in a month, and your hot little piece of ass could be the perfect explanation for where you’ve been.”
Leave it to Mikhail to find a way to cover his ass.
I sit at his words, falling into the leather chair opposite his desk. “What are you suggesting?” I don’t like how Mikhail’s mind works, suggesting that I lie to my bratva brothers.
“Bring her to the wedding, parade her around. And when the others ask, and they inevitably will, you’ll tell them that you’ve been staying with her. You two are an item or whatever you want to fake.”
I can’t believe that I’m hearing Mikhail correctly. “You want me to bring Sadie here under false pretenses?”
“Not here,” he says, gesturing to his office and surroundings. “But in general, yes. I want her to attend the wedding, at least one dinner prior, and perhaps lunch with the girls. Because let’s face it, if you only bring her to the wedding, no one will believe that the two of you are serious.”
* * *
It’s been three days since I’ve seen Sadie. I still feel awful about her losing her job. I have two options, show up at the hotel and threaten the manager who fired her ass or give her a job where I work. The second option is a bit more challenging because it involves working for the bratva. And while I don’t want to involve her in my messes, it’s a little too late.
As it is, I haven’t told her I need her to be my fake girlfriend for a bratva wedding.
Baby steps.
The last time I saw Sadie before we departed our separate ways, I had her jot down her phone number. I’ve since gotten a cell phone and texted her the time that I’d pick her up. I often text her an emoji, or she sends me a silly picture.
Just last night, she asked me if I liked the color, Sassy Sangria, that she painted her toenails. It was very pink, but the girl could pull anything off and look stunning. And I never had a fetish for feet, but damn, hers are hot.
We may be pretending to be in a relationship, but it would seem strange from Allie’s point of view if we weren’t communicating.
I head on up the stairs to her apartment and press the buzzer. With the flowers in one hand, I wait for her to let me inside the building. I head up to her floor, and she already has the front door ajar.
“Sadie?” I knock as it inches open.
“Come in,” she calls from inside the apartment.
Allie is sitting on the couch, pinning me with her gaze. She glances me up and down, stands, and approaches me. “Are the flowers for me?” she asks smugly.
I hand her a tiny bouquet pressed against the larger one for Sadie. “These are for you.”
She rolls her lips together. I surprised her. “Thanks.” She takes the mixed bouquet of colorful daisies and brings them into the kitchen. “Mom!” Allie shouts across the apartment. “Where are the vases?”
“Above the refrigerator in the cabinet,” Sadie says, but she doesn’t shout. She rounds the corner to the kitchen wearing the cutest and sexiest but modest black dress I’ve ever seen. It hugs her breasts, but it covers her, leaving my imagination to determine whether she’s wearing a bra and what it might look like beneath the dress.
Satin?
Lace?
I prefer to think she’s not wearing any undergarments.
Her skirt flows outward and stops just above her knees.
With her back to the living room, she leans on the sofa for support while she slips on her heels.
What I wouldn’t give to be that couch right now, nestled up against her warm body.
I clear my throat and offer to help Allie since I’m a good foot taller than her. “Here, let me.” I reach for the cabinet above the refrigerator. There are bottles of alcohol along with a clear crystal vase.
“What about for my flowers?” Allie whines. “I can’t share Mom’s vase. Do we have another?” Her gaze is set on Sadie.
Sadie slips her heels on. “You brought her flowers?” There’s a smile adorning her face, and her cheeks are rosy. I can’t determine if it’s her makeup or she’s blushing.