Page 37 of The Russian's Bought Bride

This is a world I understand best, given how long I’ve been in it.

Between the concrete floors, high ceilings, and men moving with purpose, all with jobs to do, it’s controlled chaos. There’s no confusion here, and no lines to blur without immediate consequences. It’s just business, and something my family has fine-tuned for years.

Stepping inside, I shrug off my jacket as I head toward the upstairs offices. I don’t need to be told they’re already here. I can feel it, along with the tension in the air, thick and waiting. Roman made it clear that I needed to show up, and I imagine that applies to everyone.

The door’s already open when I reach it, with Roman sitting at the head of the table, arms crossed, and expression set in that hard, unimpressed line I know too well. Mikhail’s at the desk while he texts quickly, his focus dialed in but distant, and I can only assume he’s doing more logistical work. Sergey is by the open window, cigarette in hand, as smoke curls lazily toward the ceiling anyway. Ivan’s sitting watching him, looking somewhat on edge, apparently resisting the urge to join, since Mila’s been on his case about quitting, even if he was only ever casual about it.

They’re all here, as expected.

“Nice of you to join us,” Roman says as I step in, vaguely sardonic in his usual condescending big brother way.

I ignore the tone and close the door behind me. “I had something to deal with.”

“That’s obvious,” Mikhail mutters without looking up from his phone.

Leaning against the edge of the table, I deliberately don’t sit, and I cross my arms. “Let’s get to it then.”

Roman’s gaze narrows at me. “No. Let’s start with you telling me what the hell you’ve gotten yourself into, and why you couldn’t wait for me to leave last night.”

Straight to it…I expected nothing less.

“I already told you,” I say coolly, keeping up the usual indifferent mask. “I’m handling something.”

“That woman,” he continues, not easing into it in the slightest. “The one in your place. I assumed she was just someone you were seeing in secret, which wouldn’t be my business at all, but given how she looked prepared to murder you, I know there’s more to it than that.”

Fighting the instinct to bristle at the insinuation of her being some mindless hookup, I push it aside and keep my mouth shut. It’s just like Roman to be too observant.

“So, who is she?” he presses.

I exhale slowly, knowing this is the line I never wanted to cross. I can keep dodging and deflecting all I want, but this chase will never end. I can give them enough to get them off my back, at least.

“Her name is Danielle.”

Roman doesn’t move, as it means nothing to him. “And?”

“She’s a victim of something I’ve been working on. That’s why she’s at my place.”

The others are silent, but they don’t seem shocked by any means, which I can only imagine is due to Roman briefing thembeforehand. I bet it was a rather scathing conversation that was had in my absence.

“You’ve already told me this. What kind of something?” Roman asks, pushing for me like usual. “Give me the details.”

I meet his eyes, forcing myself to operate with the same detachment I normally do. “I’m trying to take down a medical fraud ring. One that’s been going on for quite a while now.”

Finally, that earns me a subtle reaction from each of them, and I have their complete attention, wanted or not.

“Go on,” Mikhail says, obviously interested as his typing has paused.

Pushing off the table, I walk the length of the room before pausing. “They were running fake trials and promising synthetic organ replacements to anyone desperate enough to give it a shot. People paid in, signed up, and trusted them enough to go under the knife.”

“And?” Sergey prompts before forcing out a long exhale of smoke.

“And they were harvesting real organs instead.”

The room goes completely still, and even Sergey forgets his cigarette for a second.

“What?” Ivan asks, low and controlled.

I can’t tell if they’re startled by the crime or my efforts to stop it, but either way, I continue.