Page 25 of Forbidden Bratva Virgin

Fucking no.

“I can’t answer that question.”

“But you can.”

“Goddammit, woman.” I rubbed between my eyes, letting them stay shut while I forced my brain to work. If I didn’t provide answers, she was just going to keep up the poking. “I don’t know, okay? Maybe it’s the respect and loyalty I receive from my…employees.”

I would have loved to see the look on Damir’s face when he heard me refer to him as that.

“Or the fear and intimidation that comes with being a boss. There are so many factors to consider here: wealth and possessions, the vast network and connections I have, my high level of intelligence, exerting influence, eliminating threats, and maintaining order. All of those things and more have the tendency to feed my control. Or it could just be making sure my drink is poured right. How about that?”

My response was supposed to be a joke, but the moment the words left my mouth, something twisted inside me. The thought lingered, clinging like smoke, refusing to fade.

“Hm.” She nodded while taking down more notes. “Did you know control is often about safety, too,” she said. “And safety requires trust. Vulnerability.”

I scoffed. “Right. Because nothing says ‘safe’ like letting people see your weaknesses.”

“You don’t think control and vulnerability can coexist?” she asked.

I opened my mouth to say something sharp, but nothing came, and she continued, allowing her gaze fleet past mine for a second, like she’d been pulled back into a memory.

“They can coexist, but there are people out there, including yourself, who don’t agree. You wanted my opinion the other day, and I’m going to give it to you. Miron, I believe that people like you cling to control to avoid feeling powerless. But that is why you’re here: to untangle the webs of confusion and work this thing out. And if you give it time, you’ll see that we will.”

Her eyes met mine, and she raised a brow. “You look like you want to say something, but you’re hesitating.”

Transiently, I faltered, and without my permission, my mind flickered to a memory I hadn’t thought about in years. I thought it lay buried and forgotten, but apparently, it still roamed in the shadows of my mind.

The memory was clear, very vivid. My father towered over me while I fought the tears in my eyes and wiped the blood off my lips; his fists were clenched, his voice like gravel as he spat words I hated to recall. The air was always so thick with tension, the kind that left bruises before and after the fists never landed.

But that was the past.

I blinked, forcing the memory away, and let out a low chuckle. “Do I?” I met her eyes, tilting my head slightly. “I think you’re imagining things.”

She didn’t look convinced but didn’t press. And while she jotted into her notes, I watched her closely, from the speed of her fingers on the keyboard, the intent focus she gave to the screen, and the tight pull of her lips.

For the first time since I walked into this place—even though this might have only been our second meeting—I couldn’t shake the feeling that this woman was seeing through me. Not just the version of me I presented but the cracks beneath.

I wasn’t sure how she’d done it, but she was swiftly penetrating like a wicked soldier on a mission.

And I hated it.

These sessions were supposed to be a waste of time, a box to check, a requirement to fulfill. But today, for the first time, I wondered if there was more to them than just a court-mandated obligation.

My phone beeped in my pocket, and her alarm simultaneously chimed.10:30 a.m.

“Time’s up,” I announced, rising to my feet. “And I’m leaving.”

Unlike the last time, she didn’t make any sound or try to stop me. A hidden part of me might have looked forward to her gutsy response, but when it wasn’t forthcoming, I found no desire to make any sarcastic remark before closing the door behind me.

No smirk, no pointed jab. Just silence.

Because somehow, my mind kept replaying her melodic voice over and over again like a broken record.

Miron, I believe that people like you cling to control to avoid feeling powerless.

And the worst part was, it sounded believable.

Chapter 10 – Hazel

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