Page 56 of Bratva's Intern

Wren was curled up on the leather sofa near the window, sound asleep. One leg bent awkwardly, arms tucked under his head, mouth parted like he’d dropped into unconsciousness rather than chosen to rest.

He was wearing the same clothes as yesterday. Wrinkled. Rumpled. Tired. His shoes, those sneakers I hated but he still wore sometimes, were on the floor. He’d intentionally fallen asleep on my couch.

“Nik,” I said quietly. “Stay outside. No interruptions. I don’t care who. No one is allowed near my office until he wakes up.”

“Yes, sir.”

Nik closed the door silently behind him. I placed my briefcase next to my desk and crossed the office to Wren. The steady rise and fall of his chest assured me he was okay and in a deep sleep. His lashes fluttered, twitching, then calming again.

He looked younger like this. Smaller. Like he still belonged in high school.

What was he doing sleeping in my office?

I crouched beside him and brushed my fingers against his cheek. Warm. Slightly clammy. A faint crease between his brows, like even in sleep, he couldn’t fully relax.

His hair was a mess. The soft curls were flattened on oneside while haloing his face on the other. I traced my thumb just above his temple, then pulled back.

Why hadn’t he gone home? Did he have a fight with his roommate? Dammit, didn’t he know he could come to me if he didn’t have a place to stay? I would not allow him into my house. Too risky. Too tempting. Too final. But I could have found him his own place. Something nice that suited him. A two-bedroom apartment with new furniture and a stunning kitchen. Did he know how to cook? He looked like he shouldn’t be allowed close to a stove.

I shrugged off my suit jacket, shook it out, and laid it gently over his body. It wasn’t much, but the office was cold, and he was already curled in on himself like he was trying to conserve heat.

I pulled out my phone again and sent Sergei a text.

Maxim

Bring a pillow and a sheet to my office. Quietly.

Sergei

Where am I supposed to get a pillow and a sheet?

Maxim

I don’t care. Just bring them.

I could at least make Wren more comfortable. Reluctantly, I walked to my desk and sat, my eyes never leaving the couch. The chair creaked as I leaned back.

I should be working. I had a lot to do since I’d spent so much of my time on my illegal businesses lately. If I were ever going to manage only legitimate businesses, I had to spend just as much time with real estate.

I powered up my computer, but nothing else.

I watched him instead.

Watched the way his nose scrunched a little when he shifted. The way his fingers twitched like he was still typing in his dreams. At one point, he murmured something unintelligible, then stilled again.

My vision blurred for a moment. Just the edges. A soft shimmer in the top right of my field. It passed almostinstantly, but I rubbed the side of my head with two fingers, slow and deliberate.

Pressure. Not pain—yet. Just a wrongness hovering beneath the surface, like heat before a storm.

A knock sounded, quiet.

Nik stepped in with a folded pillow and sheet in his arms.

“From Sergei.”

I nodded. Took them from him. “Thanks.”

When he left, I moved back to the couch.

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