Page 15 of Forbidden Bratva Virgin

Unenthusiastically, he circled a finger in the air, urging me to continue.

“We will focus on identifying those things that trigger your anger and explore effective anger management options.”

He jerked his head to the side, brows furrowed. “That’s it?”

“Yeah. That’s it.” I smiled. “Once you conquer your emotions, everything else will fall into place.”

Miron almost stole my composure when he surprisingly sprung to his feet, forcing my head to recline when his shiny leather shoes stomped closer to my couch. Subtly, I swallowed, keeping the instant fear out of my eyes.

I was right; the man’s aura was not the only intimidating thing about him. His height was imposing, standing at least six feet five inches tall, with those broad shoulders that commanded respect. He didn’t even stand close, but his presence made the room feel smaller. With my heart making small staccato beats, I found it a struggle to breathe regularly, and I wasn’t even claustrophobic.

“I’m leaving.”

Was that all he marched up here to say? He could have as well done that from his chair without having to suffocate me with his glare—and that darn cologne.

“But…but….”Why on earth am I stuttering?“We still have ten minutes.”

“You’ve outlined the goals, haven’t you? And I believe that the first days are mostly for introductions. We’ve done that, so I say I’m leaving. I have more important shit to take care of, anyway.”

“By all means, Mr. Yezhov. The door’s right there. I’m not stopping you.”

Double crap.

In my previous history with clients, my composure was always intact, never shaken or wavering, but Code Red somehow managed to rattle my foundations and unnerve me without so much as a snap of his fingers. I was just speaking to him about control, andI’d snapped. It was an accident, but there was nothing I could do because he’d caught it; the disapproving downward turn of his lips said so.

Miron’s pupils flashed with aggression, and he slid a hand into his pocket.

Instant quiet hovered between us like weighted clouds in the heavens just waiting to pour, and while I braced myself, prepared for a display of his infamous outburst, his next words were….

“You say I’m a man who likes being in control, but you don’t really think I’m in control of anything, do you?”

…unexpected.

It felt like a bucket of ice had been tipped over my head, and I adjusted my seat, rapidly blinking my sudden embarrassment away. While racking my brain to understand why he would ask that, I opened my mouth to present a defense.

“Mr. Yezhov, my opinions—”

“Unless when necessary, are kept at bay. I heard you the first time you said it, but don’t shy away now; you were a spitfire only seconds ago. I want to hear you say it to my face. Otherwise, your qualifications and whatnots don’t mean shit if you don’t have the balls to speak your mind.”

My mouth hung open, but no words came out.

“That’s what I thought. A simple test, and you failed. Trust thequalifiedexpert to tell her clients only shit she dug up from a textbook.” A sardonic hint of a smile pulled on his lips before he turned his back to me and stomped toward the door. “Enjoy the rest of your humid afternoon, Miss Sinclair.”

He deliberately slammed the door shut, and the bang reverberated in my chest.

Quietly, I picked up my iPad and resumed notetaking.

First observations: Miron Yezhov exhibits a strong desire for control and a need for things to go his way. He is resistant to therapy and struggles with flexibility and adapting to unexpected situations, often becoming agitated when his plans are disrupted.

Treatment Goals:

Self-Awareness

Emotional Regulation

Communication Skills

Recommendations:

---