Page 26 of Mafia King's Broken Vow
Unknown: Missing our session today? I was so looking forward to seeing you.
No name. No signature. No doubt.
Pablo.
He knows my schedule.
A fresh wave of cold moves through me. I stand fast, ignoring the twist in my stomach, and head to the kitchen. Coffee. Armor. Action.
I pour the water, grind the beans, and make the call.
Nikolai picks up on the second ring. “Mila.”
His voice is calm. Bratva calm. Formal and precise.
“We need to talk,” I say. “Now. It’s about a patient. And a possible Colombian connection I didn’t see coming.”
A pause.
“I’ll be there in twenty.”
I hang up and go to the shower, already cataloging what I can disclose and what I’ll need to withhold. Ethics still matter. But so does survival.
One thing is certain: Pablo Montoya is no longer my patient.
And Yakov…
My pulse quickens. Today. Today, I see him. The shower suddenly seems too hot, or maybe that’s just my skin, flushed with anticipation I refuse to name. I have three hours to rebuild my defenses. Three hours to remember I’m his therapist, not his?—
Not his what?
I turn the water to cold, gasping at the shock. But even icy water can’t wash away the heat that coils low in my belly when I think about walking into that room. About what he might do. What he might say.
What I might let him do.
The thought of him sparks anticipation in my chest. Dread. Interest. It’s not clinical. It’s not clean.
But itismine to manage.
And today, I reclaim control.
Today, I stop being the woman who let her armor crack beneath a predator’s gaze.
Today, I remember who I am.
Dr. Mila Agapova.
In three hours, I’ll be in that room with him. And despite everything—Pablo’s threats, my compromised ethics, the danger Yakov represents—my treacherous heart beats faster at the thought.
But I do not bend.
Even if my body remembers the shape of his hands. Even if I dreamed of drowning in him instead of hospital rooms. Even if I’m lying to myself with every word.
7
WHAT WE CARRY
YAKOV
