Page 7 of Used By the Merciless Bratva
“Don’t fucking explain to me,” I cut in. “Someone got into the store room because some of your guys went lax. The only words I want out of your mouth are the name of whoever sent him.”
He responded with a brisk nod.
“And the guys that didn’t feel like doing their jobs right, give them meaningful reminders,” I added.
“Yes, Boss. I’ll be back with results before the end of today.”
“And, as for you putting too much trust in his guys instead of double-checking, I’ll decide what you deserve.”
He nodded again.
“Leave.”
“Hi, Danil!” Olga’s high-pitched voice sounded from outside my office door as Pavel stepped out.
“Boss?” Pavel inquired, turning around to face me again.
“Let her in,” I told him.
“Hi, Danil!” she singsonged, closing the door behind her.
“Are those the only words you know?” I asked, leaning back into my leather chair.
Her cheerful expression turned into a small frown as she rolled her eyes; I had a hard time identifying which one irritated me more.
“Come on,” she complained, claiming one of the chairs across from my desk. “I’ve not heard from you in a while, so I thought, ‘Why not come say hi and, you know, if he’s a good boy, give him some sugar?’ And here I am.”
“What are you here for?”
“I just told you, didn’t I?”
“You just told me what you thought, which I’m sure you know isn’t reason enough to show up at my place of work. You can’t be that delusional, can you?”
Her shoulders slumped visibly.
“Don’t be like that. I brought some homemadeblinifor you. What’s so delusional about wanting to pamper my man—”
“What man?” I cut her off. “Did we explicitly make any such arrangement?”
“Just pleasure, I know. But—”
“There are nobuts,” I interrupted again.
“Fine. Back to the initial agreement, then.”
“There is no initial agreement, either. Not anymore.”
“What? Wh—are you kidding? I’m fine with it,” she rushed.
“Have a nice day, Olga.”
“Danil…okay, I’m sorry I overstepped. I won’t do it again, I promise.”
“This little stunt only tells me that you’re in need of a reminder. I’m not in the habit of rehashing agreements. They are two irreconcilable facts, you’ll agree,” I pointed out, shrugging. “So, would you leave or prefer my men’s help?”
She brushed her brown bob out of her face as she huffed. “You’ll come back,” she said, rising to her feet.
I pulled out one of the drawers beside my chair as she sauntered toward the door.
