Page 9 of Forbidden Bratva Virgin

At the other end of the line, I thought I heard her exhale a strangled chuckle, but I couldn’t be sure. “It’s something like that, but not what you’re thinking. I know it’s past your closing hour, but I’ll need you to make a quick stop at my office now. I’ve got something to show you.”

“Sure. I’ll be there in a sec.”

The minute Amelia disconnected the call, my mind went into a spinning mess. Different scenarios of many things that could have suddenly gone wrong started playing like a horror movie in my head, but I maintained control over my breathing and squeezed my trembling fingers into fists.

It was normal for me to feel agitated, right?

Only two days ago, I’d practically stormed into her office, saying to her face that the opportunities and cases she’d given me to handle felt like a kindergartner’s playground. I believe I’d demanded “more serious work.”Since then, I’d neither heard Amelia’s voice nor seen her face. And the first time I actually did, after two long days, she called to say there was a problem.

Wonderful.

With a gulp, I slowly walked down the corridors. My heart was racing with the speed of a hunting cheetah, and I wasn’t feeling as confident as I had been two days before.

Approaching her office, I spotted Amelia through the glass walls, hunched over her desktop computer and a bunch of paperwork, with her hair dangling below her shoulders. I swallowed and dropped three light knocks on the door in quick succession.

“Hazel?” she called from inside, and I turned the knob to poke my head through the gap. She offered a small smile. “Please, come in. Take a seat.”

I lowered myself onto the chair and forced my mind to relax under the pressure of the suffocating silence that followed. For a while, the only sounds in the room emanated from her fingers tapping fast and hard on the white keyboard. With her intent gaze on the screen and lips drawn in a grim line, I dreaded breaking the silence, but the suspense was threatening to kill me.

“So…Amelia,I’m truly, very sorry to interrupt whatever it is you’re doing, but I’m nervous.” I blew out a light chuckle to add emphasis and visibly relaxed when she looked up with a small smile. “I hopeI’mnot the one in trouble.”

“I told you already.” She plopped back on her chair, rubbing her temple with the grimace of an exhausted workaholic. “It’s nothing like that. There’s a problem, all right, but it’s one I want you to handle.”

I opened my mouth. Then, I shut it.

What?

My skin tingled as a sudden surge of electric energy coursed through my veins, like a spark igniting a flame. I felt my heart rate accelerate. Excitement and nerves intertwined, creating a thrilling blend of emotions I fought hard to contain. I hadn’t even heard her out yet, and I needed to hear the full thing before my elation got the best of me.

Masking my joy, I sat forward and proceeded with caution. “You have a problem you want me to handle?”

It wouldn’t be the first time the CEO of Prime Care Medical Center wanted me to handle a responsibility. It was my job, the exact work I was paid to do. However, it was certainly the first time she referred to such responsibility as aproblem.

Amelia shifted in her chair, reached for a thin blue folder beside her computer, and handed it to me. “You wanted a challenge, didn’t you? Well, congratulations, Hazel Sinclair. You’ve landed yourself a very tough nut to crack.”

That could only mean one thing: I was graduating from kindergarten.

I was smiling so hard that my cheekbones ached, and the buzzing sensation in my chest made me want to scream and roll on the floor with hysterical laughter. The folder in my hands felt like carrying tons of gold medals. Gold medals that belonged tome.

Before I opened the folder jacket, I inhaled a long breath of triumph.Gosh,if my mother could see me now, she would go right ahead and tell me to stop being dramatic.

Quickly, I scanned through the biographical data report of our tough-nut client, taking note of the necessary details: the client’s personal information, medical, family, and social history, and additional information.

NAME: Miron Yezhov

DATE OF BIRTH (MM/DD/YY): March 12, 1984

PLACE OF BIRTH: Village of Pushkin, Leningrad Oblast, Russian Soviet Federative Socialist Republic (Saint Petersburg Oblast, Russia)

AGE: 41

Then, I flipped back to the personal information, and the client’s photograph that was attached made me pause. The truth was, he looked anything but forty-one. If I had to guess, I’d have left it at thirty, or thirty-five, maybe.

The photograph was clear enough, capturing even the most minute details of the man. His eyes were like sapphires, the light blue hue as mesmerizing as the very essence of the sky. His hair was a rich, dirty honey-blond, which fell across his forehead in loose, tousled waves and framed his face, perfectly accentuating the striking angles of his bone structure. And it was the most masterful blend of elegance and rugged masculinity I’d ever seen in a human being. With his nose, straight and proud, which stood sentinel over his full lips, and the sharp definition of his jawline, honed from the finest granite, the man was a work of art. One of God’s best, to be precise.

What problems could this charming creature possibly have?

“Hazel, I know you’re happy about this, but….” Amelia’s voice forced my eyes away from the handsome sculpt of a man to focus on her instead, and she looked worried. “This is a classified Level One folder. Being unprofessional, I’d tag it a ‘Code Red.’”

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