Page 13 of Forced & Owned By the Bratva Boss

Audrey

“What do you think you’re looking at, huh?”

The brawny man standing by the door like a bodyguard crosses his arms and doesn’t look away. He looks like the manager I had back at Cascade. The only difference is the absence of the tattoo on the side of his neck and longer blonde hair that sits in a neat cut below his neck. But he looks just as intimidating.

Irritated, I toss my stress ball at him and watch with delight as it bounces off his arm and down to the floor, rolling off to a corner of the office I won’t bother exploring.

He gives me a look that says he wishes he could kill me, then mutters something under his breath in Russian.

I guess it’s a privilege that he doesn’t storm over here to strangle me, simply because his boss won’t let him, but it doesn’t make me any less anxious about being trapped in here.

It’s the second day since the cops raided Velour. The second day since the false allegation that I was the one who tipped them off. And Igor has me locked in his executive office at the nightclub.

Instead of locking me up in a basement or tying my hands to a ceiling with chains, on his orders, every day he reports to work, I have to be escorted to his office by one of his men.

What do I do in the office?

I sit by his desk and stare at the wall like a prisoner questioning her life choices. It’s either that or choosing to annoy the hell out of whoever the designated guard is for the day.

Yesterday, it was some old guy the others called JJ.

Today, it’s blondie. But I’m bored already and I really need to leave, or else I might go crazy.

Tugging on my Velour-branded white tee, I rise to my feet, and blondie raises a suspicious brow.

I cock my head to the side. “Where’s your boss? Tell him I’m fed up and I’m leaving. You can’t keep me locked in here doing nothing. No TV. No food. Nothing! You’re all crazy.”

Blondie stares hard enough to let me know he’s not playing around. “Sit the fuck down.”

There’s no chance I’m backing down. “What if I need to pee?”

“Consider this your last warning,” he grits out, and right after he mumbles something in Russian, Igor appears at the doorway.

Blondie visibly pales in his presence. He tries to greet his boss, but stutters, and I swear I feel the temperature in the room drop when Igor speaks back to him in their language.

The guy bows his head as he leaves the room, and Igor closes the door behind him.

I know something weird just happened, but I don’t try to find out what it was.

Instead, I keep my gaze locked on my captor.

Igor circles his desk, looking like a delicious meal with the long sleeves of his white dress shirt rolled up halfway.

He runs his fingers through his hair and then sticks both hands into his pockets, glaring at me like I’m a bug under his leather shoes.

“I was gone for a few seconds and you’re already causing trouble.” He tilts his head to the side, mirroring the same move I made earlier, and stares at me like a disappointed parent scolding his child. “Is trouble your trademark, Audrey?”

I ignore the instant flutters that erupt in my belly—a familiar reaction to the sound of my name rolling off his tongue—and focus on the blatant lie he just told.

Bewildered, I squint and shake my head to be certain I heard right. “Did you say gone for a few seconds?” He doesn’t even blink in response, which drives me to the edge. “You haven’t been here for hours. But you know who has? That’s right, me. I’ve been in here all day, staring at the boring piece of monochrome art on your plain walls and almost losing my mind.”

If he’s offended by my insult, he doesn’t show it. He doesn’t even address it. It’s straight to business with him, like it always has been.

He lifts a finger from his pocket and points it at me. “I didn’t sell my boss to the cops twice,” he graciously reminds me. “You did, so you deserve to be serving time in here.”

I chuckle dryly. “That’s what this is, huh? Serving time for a crime I didn’t commit?”

“Prove it to me.”