Page 36 of Bratva's Intern

Wren froze midstep, eyes flicking between us. “Uh, Mr. Morozov, sorry but…”

“Get. Out,” I snapped, my voice like a whip.

Wren shut his mouth and backed out, closing the door.

Stone shook his head. “I see your new assistant is quite incompetent. You should get rid of him before he overhears the wrong thing.”

“My assistant is none of your concern.”

“Maybe. But this is.” He stood, straightening his jacket. “I hope you reconsider my offer. I’d hate for your next shipment to… run into trouble.”

I rose slowly and stepped around my desk, close enough to see the glint of sweat at his hairline.

“You like the money I pay you, Stone. You like your little cushy seat of power. You need my money more than I need your protection.” I leaned in. “But you know what I don’t need?”

His throat bobbed.

“Your body in one piece.”

Stone’s fingers twitched at his sides. “You’re playing with fire, Morozov.”

I smiled. “I can’t wait to watch it burn and see which one of us will survive.”

He turned on his heel and stormed out. I let the door close behind him, then released a slow breath. Rage made my hands shake, but it wasn’t Stone who held my ire.

Wren.

A rapid knock on the door echoed through the room. Now he knew how to knock?

“Enter!” I bellowed.

The door swung open, and Archie rushed inside, his eyes full of concern. “What the hell was the police chief doing here? I stepped out for a minute to take a call and?—”

“Where the hell is Wren?”

“I saw him running to the restroom. Wait, Maxim, where are you going?”

I stormed past him without answering.

CHAPTER TEN

WREN

Ilocked the stall door, pressing my forehead against the cool metal.

Breathe in. Breathe out.

God, I was pathetic.

A grown man, hiding out in a restroom because I couldn’t handle my job for even half a day without screwing up spectacularly.

Not only had I failed to stop the police chief from barging into Mr. Morozov’s office, but I’d also forgotten to knock. Again.

Twice now, I’d walked in on conversations I shouldn’t have. Twice, I’d made myself look like an incompetent idiot in front of him.

I groaned, squeezing my eyes shut. Maybe I should quit. Mr. Morozov would probably welcome my resignation. Hell, he might even pay me to leave.

Heavy footsteps entered the restroom. I stiffened.

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