Page 34 of Forbidden Bratva Virgin

I tossed back the whiskey, the burn grounding me.

Hazel was different, annoyingly so. A boyfriend who was never around, yet she still held onto him,kept herself for him, as if he were the last steady thing in her world.

The moment she ran out of my car, I should’ve let her fade from my mind. Instead, she lingered, the scent of her perfume pressing against my thoughts in a way I couldn’t shake. I’d burned, imagining what that perfume smelled like on her neck. And it wasn’t just her innocence that frustrated me; it was the way she carried it without pretense.

I poured another finger and threw my head back with my eyes closed. Still, in the darkness of my mind, piercing hazel eyes haunted me. Red-painted lips whispered therapeutic jargon into my ears. Chestnut-brown hair begged my fingers to feel them. And then, there was that fucking little black dress that had made a permanent mark in my memory.

Infatuation.

Misplaced lust.

There’d been no reason for it. But the coil in my chest when I thought of Hazel burned the same way I’d sizzled fleetingly for Genevieve, like a flickering flame that called my attention.

The woman wasn’t for me. And yet, somehow, I already knew I wouldn’t be able to leave her alone.

I took out my phone and texted the one person I wasn’t ready to see butneededas a distraction.

Barely half an hour later, I heard the double doors creak open and heavy footsteps cutting through the quiet. Damir appeared through the threshold, no jacket, no tie, his white shirt covered in sweat, and…I thought I saw a few spots of crimson on his collar.

I filled another glass and slid it on the counter toward him.

We drank in silence.

“Did Ruslan give you my message?”

“Yeah, about the docks. To double up security. I’ve taken care of it.”

I knew he would; he was Damir. Always on top of every fucking matter. Dry amusement filled me, but I didn’t show it. He thought I was still stewing, counting the seconds until I yelled his ear off. Two hours ago, that might have been the case. But now, something else needed sorting out.

I moved over to the marble kitchen island and settled on a swivel high stool.

“And the Swiss-Moscow transfer,” I said, watching him carefully. “Why was it delayed?”

Damir exhaled sharply, running a hand through his damp hair. He opened his mouth, and I held up my hand because now I had to ask.

“Before you answer that, why the hell do you look like shit?”

The corner of his mouth curved. “I found the guy who stole the missing crates.”

I arched a brow. “And you killed him?”

“Even better. I beat the shit out of him.”

To Damir, beating the man to a pulp was better than killing him. It was a style he’d learned from me in the days of our early beginnings, before I decided going straight for the kill was more effective. Me and him, we’d almost experienced the brutality of the world together, though at different times. On the outside, he looked calm, rational, but we were both familiar with the monsters lurking in our shadows. Bloodshed and violence were woven into our very existence, and that way, torturing traitorous bastards seemed more viable an option than snuffing out their miserable lives immediately.

Rolling my eyes, I returned to the previous conversation. “So, back to the transfer.”

“There was an issue on the Zurich end. A flagged transaction. Nothing we couldn’t handle. It just took longer than expected.”

“Good.” I stared at my drink. “I’ve got something else for you to handle. I need information on a certain someone, everything you can get on her: private life, social life, work, hobbies. What she has for breakfast, lunch, and dinner. I want it all. Plus, a full report on her boyfriend.”

Damir’s facial expression didn’t even crack in the slightest, but the twinkle in his eyes betrayed the mask. “So, it’s a woman, with a boyfriend, who is not your fiancée.”

“Oh, we’re cracking jokes now,” I said dryly.

“Not at all, Boss. I was just making sure I got all the details right.” Damir moved closer to the door. “You know I can get this done in a blink. I just need a name.”

Finding her address was easy. All it took was random Facebook searches to pinpoint her current residential location.

---