Page 30 of Forbidden Bratva Virgin

Ruslan nodded. “Got it, Boss.”

Alone, I exhaled slowly, rubbing my temple.

Fuck!

Her fucking glare still lingered in my head, and it was more distracting than any business problem I had faced tonight.

She had stood there, shoulders squared, chin lifted, and asked if I was crazy. She’d stood there and expressed more disappointment in my actions than anyone else ever dared to do.

The way she’d looked at me unsettled something deep in my chest. Most people bowed their heads when I spoke. They agreed, obeyed, and stepped aside. But not her.

Not fucking Hazel Sinclair.

And it bothered me.

Shefucking bothered me. My therapist. How ironic!

I had expected hesitation before she lashed out. Or fear, maybe. A careful choice of words. But she had met my authority head-on and refused to back down.

Her voice came again, ringing more loudly this time, warning me to never stick my nose in her business.

I felt my face grow hot. My jaw clamped, and my hands trembled in agitation. In a flash, I was on my feet.

I grabbed my car keys off the desk, my chair scraping against the floor as I stood. This wasn’t going away. Not by sitting here, stewing in it. The sooner I dealt with it, the better.

Within moments, I was out of my office, the door shutting behind me with a little more force than necessary.

Chapter 12 – Hazel

The sky was a mess of colors: deep oranges melting into pinks, with streaks of violet stretching across the clouds like brushstrokes on an artist’s canvas. Cars rolled by, their headlights flicking on one by one, and the scenic view was beautiful to watch. But I didn’t have the patience to admire.

I’d had a long day and desperately yearned for a hot bath and my soft pillows.

Cold air bit at my skin as I shifted from one foot to the other, glancing down at my phone for what had to be the tenth time.

Still no driver.

Nathan had some school-related seminar to organize three hours away from Prima Care, so he couldn’t pick me up. My Lyft was supposed to be here eighteen minutes ago, and I was ready to delete the damn app off my phone.

A gust of wind sent my hair whipping across my face. I tucked it behind my ear, sighing, when the deep purr of an engine caught my attention.

I thought it was the driver.

But, since when did Lyft have AMG-Mercedes?

The black Mercedes pulled up beside me, its sleek exterior reflecting the streetlights that automatically came up. The tinted window rolled down, and I stiffened.

“I double-checked my planner to make sure you didn’t have a session today.” And I wasn’t bluffing. “Even if you somehow miraculously did, it’s already late.”

Miron kept his eyes ahead, not sparing me a glance even once. “Get in.”

The nerve of him to show up here and order me around. “Thanks, but no. I have a Lyft on its way to—”

“Get inside the fucking car.”

Whatever I had left to say dried up on my tongue. He didn’t shout, but it was that cold, emotionless command that sent chills down my spine. It reminded me of the detached look in his eyes when he dunked Axel with alcohol and how undisturbed he was by the aftermath.

Quietly, I opened the door and got in.

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