Page 46 of Bratva's Intern

He leaned lower, his warm breath ghosting the shell of my ear, sending a shiver down my spine. “Anything else?”

I neededeverything.

The scent of him curled into my lungs—fresh, sharp, with something subtly sweet beneath it. My fingers twitched against the tabletop, the cool surface grounding me.

I exhaled slowly, steadying myself. “No. That’s all.”

He straightened, his expression unreadable, and returned to his seat. The moment he did, I shifted in my chair to give my cock more room. I snapped the cap off the water bottle, forcing myself to focus. But it was no use.

I wasn’t hearing a damn word.

The voices around me blurred, the presentation a distant echo.

“…revisions to the structural plans will require an additional three-week timeline,” someone was saying. “We still need to address the zoning concerns with?—”

“We’ll wrap up for today.” My voice was even, controlled. It made no sense to continue with this farce of a meeting. Given I was paying more attention to Wren than to the discussion and reports, I was one step away from signing over my company to anyone who put a pen and paper in front of me.

Confused glances met me from across the table.

Stepanov cleared his throat. “Sir, we still need to finalize the adjustments for?—”

“Leave the proposal on the table.” I rocked back in my chair, arms folded. “I’ll get to it.”

Donald hesitated but nodded. One by one, the men gathered their materials, looking perplexed but knowing better than to question me when I gave an order. I flexed the muscles in my back, stifling a groan. It felt as if we’d been in the meeting for hours. A glance at my watch revealed that not even an hour had passed since we started.

Shit.

I raised my head, searching for Wren. He was at the door, talking to Donald, his lips curved into a smile. Donald leaned in, and whatever he said made Wren chuckle.

“Wren, get over here now!”

My voice bounced off the walls of the conference room, sharper than I’d intended, but I didn’t care. Heads snapped toward me but were quickly lowered, fleeting looks of concern darting in Wren’s direction. He excused himself to Donald and hastily made his way across the room to me, his eyes wide.

“You wanted me, Mr. Morozov?”

Too damn much.

But I would be scum if I acted on it.

“Did you take notes of the meeting like I asked you to?”

“Oh!” He expelled a deep breath. “I sure did. Let me send them over to you right now.”

“Good. Just checking that you remembered your job description, which doesn’t entail flirting with coworkers.”

Wren’s head jerked up. “Flirting?”

I nodded toward the door where he’d been standing a few minutes ago. The conference room had emptied, and we were alone.

“With Donald.”

“What? Don’t be silly. He’s got to be a hundred.”

He was in his fifties. Not so much older than me at forty-two. Did Wren also see me as decrepit?

“There, I sent you the file.”

Glad for something else to focus on besides him, I frowned. Nothing had popped up in my email. “I don’t see it.”

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