Page 63 of Caught By the Bratva Boss

My fiance shrugged. “It’s just bruises. They will heal. It doesn’t affect her value. She’s a very good worker. I promise you, you won’t be disappointed.”

The way he said it made my blood run cold, but I forced the thought away and stepped forward. Holding out my hand. “It’s a pleasure to meet you. My degree is in marketing and—”

“Be quiet.” The dark haired one snapped, and my lips slapped shut. My hand fell to my side. He stepped up to me. So close that I could smell and feel the heat of his breath on my face.

Flicking my hair over my shoulders, he gripped me by the chin and lifted my face to the light. Turning it every which way.

Desperately, I looked at Greg, but he just looked bored.

“Her face is pretty enough. And her body—” Keeping his grip on my chin, he slid the other hand down my side. The tips of his fingers brushed against the side of my breast.

I swatted his hand away. “Don’t touch me.”

His grip on me tightened painfully. “She needs some training. You didn’t break her in for us if she’s still fighting with those bruises on her face.”

Bile rushed up my throat. “Greg, what is this?” My voice shook. Again I tried to break from this stranger’s grip, but it was impossible. An uneasy feeling was settling over me. The realization that this wasn’t a job interview at all made my stomach twist.

“A job. You lost the last one, and this one is,” he chuckled. “A lot more lucrative.”

Why did that sound like a threat?

“Gentleman,” Greg’s tone changed. “She won’t give you any problems. Like I said, she fulfilled her job with Danill Popov, and he’s been around begging for her back.”

“He is scum.” The blond sitting at the table spoke for the first time in English. Spitting on the floor. I wrinkled my nose in disgust.

“Of course,” Greg said smoothly. “But she was his, and she could be yours. The choice is yours, of course, gentleman. There are other people I could contact.”

The blond jumped from his seat. Elbowing the dark-haired man out of the way. He pulled me into his body so hard I cried out. Drawing our faces together, he said something in Russian, and again the dark-haired man laughed.

“He’s not very impressed with her,” he chuckled. “He thinks she is too plain and that she doesn’t have enough,” he made a gesture over his chest,“up top, but the fact that Popov wants her makes her more desirable. We will take her. As long as the medical checks out, of course.”

It felt like all the blood drained from my face. What did he mean medical?

“Of course,” Greg nodded. “I always thought she could do with a little more on top as well. But she never wanted implants.”

He was talking about me like I wasn’t here. And hearing him say that about my body hurt. Daniil would never say I wasn’t enough. In fact, he had always told me my tits were perfect.

“If you tell me where to bring her for her medical, then I will make sure she’s there.”

The blond took my upper arm in a punishing grip. But it was the dark-haired man who answered. The blond seemed to have very limited English.

“We will take her now. The car is waiting, and we don’t like wasting time on assets. Time is money after all.” He eyed me. “I can kind of see what Daniil sees in her. There’s something filthy in her eyes. I think she will do nicely.”

“Stop.” I tugged at my arm. “Wait.” The blond shoved me into the arms of the dark-haired man, whose grip was even tighter. He ground my flesh into my bones so hard I knew it would leave a bruise.

“What is going on here?” I tried to wrench my arm from his hand and failed. He dragged me towards the front door.

“Greg, what is this?” Desperately, I tried to look behind so I could beg him with my eyes.

“A job.” He chuckled. “That’s what you wanted, wasn’t it, Lily? A job that you were good at?” he said sarcastically. “And we both know something you are really good at.”

My legs sagged at his words, giving the dark-haired man a chance to throw open the front door and drag me out into the snow-covered street. A car was waiting at the curb, its engine idling and the back door open and waiting for us.

I came to my senses instantly. I didn’t want to get into that car. Bad things would happen if I did.

“Stop fighting.” The blond stepped into my face, even as the dark-haired one held me firm. “Stop being a brat and get in the car,” he said in thick accented English.

“What he is trying to say, Miss Ridgeway, is that you can get in on your own, or he can break some bones and carry you in. We have a doctor on standby who could patch you up enough for what we need from you. But it would be better for you if you came on your own accord. My friend has certain likes that you probably wouldn’t enjoy. I wouldn’t make him angry. So what’s it gonna be?”