Page 116 of Bratva's Intern

On the outside, Sergei met me, his eyes sharp and accusing. He and I had argued on the drive over. Like Stone, he was worried my presence at the police station would raise questions. He was likely right, but I needed to settle the Wren issue.

“Got everything taken care of?” he asked.

I nodded.

“Should I take you to lunch, then?”

“Take me back to the office.”

Screw what people thought. I wanted to have lunch with Wren.

By the time I returned to the office, there was a new spring in my step at the thought of spending an hour with him. With Wren, I felt relaxed. Like I didn’t have to be Maxim the businessman or Morozov the head of my Russian Bratva family.

I could simply be Max.

A regular man.

I passed the front desk without acknowledging the smiling receptionist and took the elevator up to our floor. Wren didn’t notice me approaching. He was bent slightly over his screen, lip caught between his teeth, fingers flying over the keyboard like he was racing some invisible clock.

God, he looked good. Even in the hastily pulled-together suit and that too-wide tie, he still looked gorgeous.

“Lunch?” I leaned against the desk with a smile.

He looked up, blinking, then glanced around us. “Sorry, Mr. Morozov, I already ate.”

I stilled. “Where?”

“Taco truck a block away,” he said like it was the most normal thing in the world. “Bradley asked if I wanted to go.”

Taco truck.Bradley.

Of course.

Something cold settled in my gut. My expression must’ve slipped because he sat up straighter.

“Max?”

I didn’t answer. Just turned and walked into my office, tension spooling tight in my shoulders. While I was out defending him, he was having lunch with another man.

My office was dimmer, the lights set lower, warmer. Quiet and clean. Modern furniture in steel and dark walnut, floor-to-ceiling windows behind my desk. It had always felt like a place of control. Now it felt claustrophobic.

The door creaked behind me, then closed. Hands shoved into my pockets, I stood before the floor-to-ceiling glass wall, staring out at the city.

“Are you mad?”

“I’m not mad,” I said, my voice too sharp to be believable. “Just surprised you went out with another man.”

“Maxim, you know it’s not like that.” He came up behind me and rested a hand on my back. “Bradley asked. I said yes because it’d be weird if I started saying no to everything. People notice stuff like that. I think he’s a bit suspicious.”

I turned to face him fully. “So what if he knows? You think I give a damn what Bradley thinks?”

“I’m trying to keep things professional,” he said, his voice softening. “I don’t want people thinking I got this job by screwing you. Or that I’m still here because I’m keeping your bed warm.”

“I didn’t even know you when we called you about the internship.”

“Exactly, but no one’s going to believe that. You understand, don’t you?”

“I don’t want to understand.”

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