Obsessive Boss (Bratva Brothers 4)

Leaving him, would be cruel and leave a giant gaping hole in my heart. Perhaps he's not the only one who has been obsessing lately.

I barely slept the night when Anton discovered the truth about who I work for. I should have packed my belongings and high-tailed it out of the apartment, but instead, I tossed and turned until dawn.

All I could think about was him. How I hurt him, betrayed him, and yes, it was my job, but I don't feel the least bit good about what occurred.

I had expected to be elated with taking down the bratva. This wasn't how I envisioned the undercover assignment to go, me fleeing with the enemy, trying to survive.

"You're not so bad yourself, kitten," Anton says.

I saunter over to the sofa, sitting down beside him. His hand caresses my neck, his fingers twirling in my blonde hair. We've yet to change our appearances, but I know it's coming.

"We have a few hours until Declan returns. Want to lie down for a couple of hours and unwind? I could put those metal handcuffs on you."

His stare sends my heart racing at all the positions we could explore in that bedroom, just the two of us.

"Too bad I left them in the back of the van," I say. He leans slightly forward. Our lips nearly touch, but he doesn't kiss me. The heat between us sizzles, and I inhale, drinking in his masculine scent. I want to straddle him, run my fingers through his hair, and kiss him hard.

"That's a shame," he says, his gaze never leaving mine. His eyes have darkened, and he shifts just slightly on the sofa. It would be easy to miss. "I do care about you, Savannah."

The way he says my name, sends my insides into overdrive. I'm hot, the room is warm, and I should remind him that we need to be careful. Anyone could have seen us enter the apartment together. The police could come at any time and tear down the door.

Except, we're in the middle of nowhere, hundreds of miles from New York City.

No one is coming.

It's just the two of us, alone.

And I'm going to have to face the fact that Anton is sitting next to me, and I've yet to kiss him. I want to desire him more than anything, but I'm torn. All along, it's been an act, something that I've done for the job, not for me.

Don't get me wrong. I've thoroughly enjoyed every minute of him naked. I have to accept that whatever happens from this moment forward is entirely because it's what I desire.

That scares me.

Why?

I've never had a serious relationship. I've dated and played the field a little but have never been wildly in love. And the desire building inside of me is something foreign. It's new and unfamiliar. While I chalked it up to the job and my nerves when dancing for him and sleeping with him before, I can't keep lying to myself anymore.

He's not the only one obsessed.

I'm just terrified of the implications. I've left my job at the bureau and am on the run with a criminal.

What have I done? My breathing increases. This time, it's not arousal but fear.

Anton senses something's wrong. His brow knits, and he gently caresses my neck with his hand. "What is it?" he asks.

"This isn't what I signed up for," I whisper, leaning forward with my head in my hands.

"You never thought they'd be the bad guys when you joined the FBI?"

"We have to take down that dirty agent," I say.

"And how are we going to do that?" Anton is wise beyond his years. He's calm and rational as he listens to me speak.

I honestly don't know. If I work with Barrett or anyone else at the bureau, they'll know our location, putting Anton at risk. I can't do that to him, not after he risked his life to save mine.

His hand is soft against my back, soothing.

I exhale a long sigh, and he pulls me against him, embracing me.

"I swear I won't let anything happen to you."

While I appreciate the sentiment, I'm probably better equipped in terms of skills and training to protect him. "I know," I say and offer a weak smile.

"How about we grab that box of hair dye and hair-cutting scissors."

His words are like a ball of lead in the pit of my stomach. If we want to be unrecognizable, there isn't much choice. Especially with our pictures being blasted on the national news outlets.

Anton takes my hand and escorts me to the bathroom. It isn't difficult to find in the small, cozy apartment above the shop. "Color or cut first?" he asks.

I open the box of hair dye and glance the directions over. "Color. My hair has to be dry, and it's better to cut wet hair."

"Do you want my help with coloring your hair?"

"I can handle it. Just make sure I don't miss a spot when I'm done." I strip out of my clothes, leaving on my bra and panties. I prepare the mixture, and Anton's gaze lingers on my body a little longer than anticipated.

"Don't you have stuff to do?" I ask, gesturing at the bag. He still has to shave off his beard.

His top lip twitches. Anton doesn't appear the least bit pleased by my reminder, but he grabs the electric razor and unboxes it, plugging it in to charge the unit. "Needs to charge," he mutters under his breath.

I don't imagine he's disappointed to wait. His gaze returns to me or, more specifically, to my body, as he watches me with the hair dye.

I've slathered on enough dye from root to tip in a few minutes. Thankfully, the plastic gloves keep my hands from being stained red.

"Now what?" he asks.

"We wait. Set a timer," I instruct and give him the information before sitting on the closed toilet lid. The last thing I want is to drag hair color around the apartment and stain Declan's sofa. He was generous enough to let us crash here for the time being. I don't want to ruin his belongings.

"Just wait?" Anton asks, his lips turning upwards into a wry grin.