Page 48 of Forbidden Bratva Virgin

Damien paused. “Never heard of a Hazel Sinclair.”

“You haven’t because she’s just a therapist. She works in Amelia’s medical center.”

Damien’s jaw dropped. “You’re putting your head on the slaughter for an ordinary girl? A no—”

“Take my advice, Damien: Do not finish that fucking sentence.”

Hazel was far from being ordinary or a nobody. She was somebody enough to make my control slip two weeks ago and somebody enough to make every other girl suddenly look bland and uninteresting, including my fiancée.

I clenched my jaw. “Look, it just…happened.”

Damien snorted. “Bullshit. You let it happen.”

“You fucked up,” Damien continued, his voice even, but the steel underneath was unmistakable. “You gave your word for Alina. You are under a fucking duty to thePakhan, Miron.”

I exhaled slowly. “I know.”

A beat of silence. Then Damien scoffed. “You know? I’m pretty sure you don’t. But tell me, how bad is it with this Hazel girl? Maybe we can fix it before thePakhanfinds out. Is she clingy? Trying to get between your legs? Blackmail?”

I leaned forward, placing my glass on the table with deliberate force. “I fucked her,” I admitted. “No point in pretending otherwise. I already cheated. And I don’t plan on stopping.”

The room went silent.

“Do you even hear yourself?” my brother muttered. “We have rules, Miron. You know how shit goes down when we try to play without them. You’re promised to Ivanova’s daughter, and he will demand respect.”

“Enough. Don’t talk to me about rules. I know every single one of them. This time, it’s different. I’ll take what I want and deal with the consequences later. That’s the game. End of discussion.”

Damien’s eyes darkened. “ThePakhanwon’t see it that way.”

It didn’t matter because one thing was certain: I wasn’t letting Hazel go.

Ignoring my brother and a quiet Damir, I plucked my phone from the table and went back to the messages I’d been scrolling through before we arrived at the club—the ultimate reason I was in such a sour mood.

The first three messages were sent two weeks ago, the afternoon after the most amazing, intense fuck I’d had in a while.

Me:Hazel.

Me:Hi.

Me:If your phone’s bad, I can get you a new one.

And the last two were sent a week later, when she missed our scheduled session at the clinic.

Me:Amelia said you called in sick. Get well soon. I don’t want to have to tell the judge my therapist needs treatment. Yeah. L.O.L.

Me:Hazel. Hi.

Looking at the blue ticks now, I wanted to throw my phone at Damir’s head—because he deserved it. All the messages had been sent at different time intervals, hours apart from each other.

And she’d read all of them.

It was obvious she was avoiding me. I couldn’t even look at another woman for more than two seconds, but she could stomach reading my messages without responding. The effect it had on me was devastating—like I was sliding downhill, rolling, tumbling, and not being able to do anything about it.

Was this what she meant by feeling powerless?

If it so, it was fucking pathetic.

Chapter 18 – Hazel

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