Page 65 of Tarnished Tyrant (Zhukova Bratva 1)

I watch him go. The man continues down the hallway, his hands clenching and unclenching as he moves towards Nikolai’s office door. From behind, I can see tattoos peeking out from the collar of his dark t-shirt.

He’s clearly not a businessman. I should go into the conference room and ignore him. Ignore whatever Nikolai is doing.

But I’m frozen in place.

The man stops at the end of the hall and knocks at Nikolai’s door. I don’t hear what Nikolai says, but the man answers loudly, his voice booming like he wants everyone on the floor to hear him.

“Giorgos Simatou here to see Mr. Zhukova.” He snorts, like the title is some kind of joke. “Your receptionist let me in.”

A second later, the door is wrenched open and Giorgos walks inside. Then it slams closed behind him.

“What the hell was that?” I whisper.

Indecision has me shifting on my feet, torn between walking down the hall to understand what is happening or going into the conference room and burying my head in the sand.

Then Bridget comes up behind me in the hall, moving quickly. Her sculpted face is twisted into a panic as she hurries down the hall. And just like that, my decision is made.

I snag her elbow. “Mr. Zhukova wanted you to run out for breakfast,” I say to her.

She skids to a halt in her towering heels and turns to me with a scowl. “Excuse me?”

“I was just in his office,” I lie. “When Mr. Simatou arrived, he asked me to send you out for some pastries and coffee.”

“Pastries and coffee?” she asks dubiously. “For Giorgos?”

I shrug. “It seemed strange to me, too. I offered, but he said he only trusted you.”

It’s a cheap ploy, but I can tell by the small smile that settles on her face that Bridget is flattered. The woman has got it bad for Nikolai. Poor thing.

“Did he say where to get them from?”

I shake my head. “He said you know what he likes.”

I’m worried I’m taking it too far, but then Bridget’s smile dials up to a full-wattage grin. “Okay.”

Without hesitating, she turns around and hurries back down the hallway, a little extra pep in her step. The moment she disappears around the corner, I slip down to Nikolai’s office.

The door is solid and heavy, and I wouldn’t be surprised if there’s extra soundproofing in the walls because I can hardly hear a damn thing. I can only make out muffled male voices. It doesn’t help that anytime I hear a noise anywhere else in the building, I jerk away from the door in a panic and try to look casual. But it’s almost like everyone who works here has been trained to avoid Nikolai’s office. They don’t disturb him or even look his way most of the time.

Which makes it even more strange that someone so rough around the edges would waltz into Nikolai’s office first thing in the morning without an appointment.

I’m still outside the door, my ear pressed to the wood, when their voices get louder.

“You can’t just show up here unannounced,” Nikolai is snarling. “Or at all. It looks bad.”

“I had no choice. You wouldn’t take my call.”

“I took your first call and said what I needed to say,” Nikolai retorts. “You shouldn’t have kept trying.”

Is that the call Nikolai took last night? When his phone rang, he seemed upset about it. But it was enough for him to walk away from me.

My face flushes with shame at how stupid I was. He did one nice thing for me, and I let myself forget everything else. All it takes is a pretty face and one little favor and I’ll hop right into a bad man’s bed, apparently.

“You struck a deal with me, Nikolai,” the man responds. "I won't take kindly to you breaking it.”

More angry barbs fly back and forth. I don’t catch most of them, so I listen harder. I don't realize just how exposed I am until I hear the handle move.

Horrified, I jump back and paste myself to the wall next to the door. It's a godawful hiding spot, but thankfully, the man storms out of the door and down the hall without looking back. I don't think he sees me. If he does, he doesn't seem to care.

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