Page 33 of Bratva's Intern

The door creaked open, and Wren stepped back inside, his eyes obeying an invisible line on the floor. He was a hot mess, with his clothes wrinkled as if he’d slept in them. The hideous trainers did not go with his attempt to dress professionally. There was nothing polished or suave about him. Nothing that qualified him for the position I had given him. He’d done nothing to deserve it.

Except saved my life.

Now I owe him twice as much.

“Is that… coffee on your shirt?” Archie’s voice was choked, and he looked like he was about to burst into flames.

“I’m sorry. I spilled Mr. Morozov’s coffee.” Wren inched closer to my desk and placed the mug down. Indeed, a huge brown stain spread on his pale blue shirt.

I picked up the cup. “There’s barely any coffee in here.”

Wren wrung his hands in front of him. “I’m sorry, sir. Someone stumbled into me, and the coffee spilled.”

Archie opened his mouth, but I waved a hand that shut him up fast. “Did it occur to you to get another one?”

“You see, I did.” He rocked back on his heels. “But the line was ridiculously long, and I was already late.”

“You should have waited in line.” I threw the half cup of coffee into the trash. “It’s disrespectful to bring your boss half a cup of coffee while wearing the rest. Or did you want me to strip you out of that shirt and wring out the rest of the coffee myself?”

Fuck, why did the thought conjure such a vivid picture? His shirt, drenched and sticky, clinging to the lean curves of his torso, his face flush with humiliation. His belly buttonpiercing flashed through my mind—delicate, unexpected, and stupidly cute. It had taken everything in me not to react when I saw it. All the while pretending as if I didn’t want to play with it, using my tongue.

Wren’s Adam’s apple bobbed. It looked like a painful swallow. “I did wait in line, sir.”

“Well? Don’t tell me you spilled the coffee again.”

He mumbled something under his breath.

“Raise your head when you’re addressing me and speak up so I can hear you.”

This mousy attitude of his wouldn’t work at all. But I knew he had spunk. The first day we’d met, he’d shown me a whole lot of spunk. That was the guy I needed working for me.

His jaw jutted out, and his lips tightened.

Yes, that’s the boy I want to see.

“I said my credit card declined, sir.”

Fuck. He was that broke? I knew he didn’t have much, but I didn’t think it was that bad. The apartment was decent, as was the furniture, and I would have reimbursed him for the coffee.

I grunted. “You’re excused for today, but don’t let it happen again.”

“You mean, I still have a job?”

“Do you not want this job?”

“Well…”

“There’s only one correct answer, boy!” My voice cracked like a whip. “The answer is yes.”

“Yes, sir, Mr. Morozov.”

And there it was. That acquiescence. I could imagine him naked, staring up at me, asking,How do you want me, Mr. Morozov, sir?

Every which way I can.

Archie was watching me. His knowing look penetratedmy core. I refused to acknowledge the rebuke in the depth of his eyes. This interest he had in Wren’s virtue needed to end. It was none of his business where I put my dick.

“Wren, you will shadow Archie for the next two days,” I said. “Learn everything you can from him. After that, you’ll be on your own. The job is demanding, but all it really requires is you to listen and follow instructions.”

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