6. Radimir

6

RADIMIR

Bronwyn’s friend had turned down the lights in the main store and the place was lit with strings of fairy lights. About twenty children were sitting cross-legged on the floor, facing a chair decorated with aluminum foil fish. As my eyes adjusted, I realized that there were parents there, too, sitting in a ring around the edge. I found a corner to stand in.

Bronwyn walked in, mermaid tail swishing. The children whooped and cheered. There were a few men in the audience, and they all suddenly sat up straight, craning for a better look at Bronwyn’s barely-covered breasts. I instantly wanted to kill every one of them.

The image of her in the hallway, with one creamy-white breast and its pink, pencil-eraser nipple peeking out over a seashell, was burned into my mind forever. As was the feel of her bare back under my hands and the warm press of her breasts against my chest. The way she’d looked up at me with those big green eyes. Scared of me, as she should be. But at the same time warm. Caring.

I didn’t need anyone to care about me. I certainly didn’t want anyone feeling sorry for me. But the way she looked at me went straight to my soul. It wrapped around the icy cogs that were me and snarled and tangled them.

Bronwyn looked right at me and grinned, and I felt that lift in my chest that was becoming addictive. I’d made her happy, with something as simple as money.

This is dangerous, a little voice inside me warned. But I couldn’t bring myself to walk out.

Bronwyn gave me an expectant little smile. I glanced around the room and found everyone looking up at me.

They wanted me to sit on the floor , like a child. Me!

Very slowly, I sank down, awkwardly crossing my legs until I was sitting on the floor for the first time since school. I scowled. But then Bronwyn smiled at me and it was worth it.

I’d presumed that I was going to spend the time just staring at that gorgeous, curvy body. I wanted to trail kisses down her neck to her bare shoulders. I wanted to fill my hands with those gloriously full, soft breasts, the cardboard seashells sliding over my knuckles as I pinched her nipples and made her arch and beg in my lap.

But as soon as the story began, I was transfixed. She had such a passion for it, bringing the characters to life with different voices. In the dramatic scenes she amped up the tension until the kids were hanging on her every word. In the comedy scenes, she flung her arms around, not afraid to act goofy, and the whole room cracked up. She made sure all the kids got involved, even the nervous ones who needed coaxing. She’d make a good mother.

I frowned. I’d never thought that about a woman before. It just wasn’t something I considered, when I was having a one-night stand with one of the Russian women who hung around the Bratva.

Like the children, I didn’t want the story to end. When it finally did, I applauded along with them and then waited while they slowly filed out. Bronwyn’s friend was the last person to go, and the two of them had a muttered conversation as they hugged goodbye, presumably along the lines of are you sure you’re okay with him?

Bronwyn looked at me and nodded.

Her friend gave me a warning look, then left. And then it was just the two of us.