Page 49 of Forbidden Bratva Virgin

Every time I walked through the doors of Prima Care Medical Center, a surge of life would burst through me. There was a permanent smile I had for the workers and patients there, and sometimes, I had a doughnut, too. Working there and interacting with the beautiful people made me believe I was on the path of fulfilling some bigger purpose.

My life was like a kindergarten; it was simple and all planned out. I could laugh, live, and breathe. It never felt like I was walking with weights on my shoulders.

Not until two weeks ago happened, and now I had two pits burrowed in my heart. One was filled with regrets for what I’d done, and the other nursing a hollow ache for deliberately avoiding Miron.

Standing at Amelia’s door, I released a deep breath and dropped two soft knocks.

“Come in.”

My legs felt like they’d been strapped to tons of bricks as I stepped into her office and shut the door behind me. “Hazel, please, take a seat. How are you feeling?”

“A lot better, thank you.”

“That’s great to hear. We really missed you around here.”

Her smile was warm and welcoming, as it always was. But looking at her seated behind her desk, buried in tons of paperwork, jogged a not-so-distant memory from a month ago, when I’d practically barged into this same office and begged her for a challenge.

Yes, I’d wanted it, craved it, even—but heavens knew I did not need or expect one to blow through my life like a damn hurricane, tearing up everything on its path. One that was hot and cold one minute and then settling between my legs the next second.

I’d sat on this same stupid chair, chest puffed up, with an expectant smile and naïve eagerness, telling her nothing was going to be too difficult. I told her I was ready for anything.

Oh, Hazel.

If only I could see into the future…. I never would have complained after Mr. Harold Plumley’s session.

“Hazel, are you listening?”

Salty tears stung the back of my eyes, and I sniffled, smiling as warmly as I could. “I’m sorry, Amelia. I lost you there for a second. Can you go over what you said one more time?”

She gave me a once-over like she wasn’t sure but went over it again.

“I was saying Miron’s been showing positive signs on the progress charts so far. The past two weeks you’ve been away, he’s kept to time with the scheduled sessions and enquired about your whereabouts.” Amelia smiled more to herself than to me. “Honestly, it’s the softest I’ve seen him in a while. You’re doing a great job, and I don’t even know how you’re doing it. There’s been no reports of him randomly flaring up or exhibiting explosive, destructive reactions….”

Just hearing his name made my heart clench. I knew he’d dropped by the clinic. I knew he’d been consistent. He’d sent messages; I read and ignored them all. That second pit in my chest burrowed deeper.

Amelia continued giving a summary report on Miron, offering tips in between and general professional advice on how to handle the client. I almost laughed out my pain in her face when she pointed out the one rule I’d trampled on and thrown into the trash:

Never get too mixed up in the client’s personal business; always keep things professional.

“Great! Once again, welcome back, Hazel. It’s a blessing to have you here. That will be all for now.”

“Thanks, Amelia.” She didn’t notice, but this time, the smile didn’t get to my eyes.

I left Amelia’s office more downtrodden than I’d been when I’d gone in but kept my head up to avoid further questions from passersby.

Down the corridor, I caught sight of my office before I got close enough to see that it was ajar.

My pulse sped up because I knew the client waiting inside. It was nine-thirty a.m. on a Monday. I didn’t only know him; I’d tasted him, kissed him senseless, dragged my nails down his broad back, and moaned my pleasures into his ears. Jesus. The hairs on my skin were already rising, just recalling the details of the steamy moments.

Clearing my throat, I pushed the door farther, keeping my eyes locked on my couch as soon as I stepped in and shut the door behind me. I dropped the Chanel bag first and took a moment to properly regulate my breath before I settled down and faced him.

God. The sight of him on that green settee blew me away. He was even more handsome than the last time I saw him, like a perfect sculpture representation of one of the gods of Olympus. Just sitting there, with one arm crossed over his chest and one hand under his chin, dressed in his regular white shirt and black dress pants, he was delectable.

“Good morning, Miron.”

“Miss Sinclair.” He nodded curtly, and my brows rose.

Miss Sinclair?

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