Page 24 of Forbidden Bratva Virgin

I walked into the office without looking her way, my shoulders tense and hands shoved deep into my pockets. Today, the air smelled faintly of lavender and strawberry jam. I settled on the green couch, crossing a leg over the other, with my arms folded across my chest.

She sat in her usual chair, legs crossed, a Styrofoam cup raised to her lips, and her iPad resting on her lap. Discreetly, she watched me over the rim of her cup before placing it on the sidepiece.

“Good morning, Miron. How prompt of you to come in twenty minutes after the scheduled time for our session today. At least you’re here, right? So, I can’t complain. It is good to see you again.”

“Well, someone’s chirpy this—” I narrowed my eyes at her glowing cheeks and bright eyes. “What did you just call me?

“Your name.” She shrugged and quickly jotted something on her iPad before glancing up. “Or would you prefer ‘sir?’”

I resisted the urge to scoff. This woman was full of surprises, wasn’t she? The sudden switch to her approach might have caught me off-guard, but it didn’t even put a scratch on my armor.

Damir had sent prompt reminders by nine a.m. I deliberately ignored them.

It wasn’t good to see her. It wasn’t good to be here. But I swallowed down the sharp remark forming on my tongue and moved a shoulder instead. “Whatever makes you sleep better at night.”

Her face didn’t give away the slightest reaction. She just kept watching me, not with judgment, but with that quiet patience I found both irritating and oddly grounding. It was as if she was sending a silent message that nothing I did or said could shake her.

Well, good for her, then. I had less than an hour to be here, which made me wish the time would fly by faster.

“How was your weekend?”

My eyes couldn’t get any narrower. How was my weekend? Full of good sex, Vodka, guns, and other profanities she looked too innocent to entertain.

I circled a finger in the air. “I know you don’t really care, so skip this question and ask the next one in your manual.”

She scoffed. “Remember: cooperation. So, let’s try that again, shall we?” She straightened up, looking me in the eyes with a smile. “How was your weekend, Miron?”

I knew what she was doing—trying to exhibit control, to battle it out with me—so I knew who really was in charge here. This woman honestly thought she could subdue me. It was almost laughable.

Then, I remembered Damir’s incessant prodding and the unpleasant experience I’d had in that fucking courtroom.

I exhaled through my nose and stared at her pointy heels rather than meeting her eyes.

“Fine.”

Her lips twitched, like she knew I was lying but wouldn’t call me out on it. “Fine,” she repeated, letting the words settle between us. “And what made it ‘fine?’”

She really didn’t want to know.

I shrugged, my jaw tightening. I hated this…this slow, deliberate way she pulled at the things I tried so hard to ignore. But I was here, wasn’t I? So, I gave her something.

“Didn’t kill anyone.”

The flutter of her lashes and subtle “hm” said she thought I was being sarcastic. If only she knew how truthful that was. The past weekend, no one died by my hand. Not yet, anyway.

She offered that smile again before facing her iPad, the one that enhanced the sunlike glow in her eyes. “That’s a good start,” she said.

Damn her.

“For the next question in my manual,” she said, and I thought I saw her lips pull up in a smirk, “Miron, what makes you feel in control?”

Instantly, a moment of distraction scattered my thoughts. It was the way she’d called my fucking name.Mih-ron. As if she was testing the letters before pronouncing them.

Gritting my teeth, I gave her my best unimpressed stare, and she tilted her head to the side, waiting.

Today, her hair was let down in big curls, framing her face and falling below her shoulders, and like the first time she walked through those doors, she maintained her professional outlook, dressed simply in a white shirt and navy blue pants.

Was there a reason I took note of those details?

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