Page 46 of Forced & Owned By the Bratva Boss

Her teeth clamp down on her bottom lip, but she does as I say and lowers herself onto the chair cross from mine. I can tell from the way she flinches each time our eyes meet that she’d rather be anywhere else but here.

I signal Sergei to give us privacy.

When he shuts the door behind him, I push the folder to the woman who managed to completely fool me into believing she wasn’t an enemy.

“Do you recognize any of this?”

She glances down at the folder, but doesn’t react to it.

Her silence makes me even more angry. Angrier than I’d been when I saw those text messages between her and whoever put her up to this bullshit. Angrier than I’d been when I saw the plan my darling wife carefully orchestrated on how to win my trust and get me to fall in love with her before she delivered the final blow to shatter my world and everything I’ve built.

And like a fool, I started to trust her. I thought there was nothing I couldn’t give up for her, and all of it was a fucking lie.

“Open the damn folder.” My voice is gruff, strained with all the fury I’m holding in.

Her hand slowly comes up to the table and she runs her finger over the folder. “Igor, I—”

“Open the fucking folder,” I growl.

She flinches, her eyes tearing up. But stubborn as always, she still refuses to do as I say and only stares at me with those sad puppy eyes that almost make me want to forgive her for this betrayal.

“Fine, I’ll do it for you.”

I flip the folder open and start to slide the documents toward her, one after the other, starting with one where her phone pinged near the docks the same night confidential shipment details were leaked. Then a photo from the club’s security footage showing her entering restricted corridors before our internal data was compromised, and another photo that shows her lingering in the same area ten minutes later.

“Can you explain that?”

She opens her mouth to speak, but inhales deeply instead. “Igor, it’s not what you think. I promise.”

I snort, my chest tightening as a new, hotter wave of anger surges inside me. I never knew she was such a good liar.

Pushing the other documents aside, I slide out a file with her call logs over the past two weeks, highlighting repeated contact between her and the encrypted number that I believe is the mastermind behind this. And then more security footage from the mansion, showing her lingering in front of my office for a couple minutes, then hurriedly walking back to our bedroom when she heard someone approaching.

Even I don’t want to believe everything in front of me, but the evidence that she’s working with or for one of my enemies is irrefutable.

“You said it’s not what I think, right?” I lean back in my leather chair, drumming my fingers on the desk. It’s a subtle habit I developed over the years to help me keep my anger in check, but it’s barely working this time. “Explain.”

Tears roll down her cheeks, but she quickly wipes them away.

I don’t know if she’s truly heartbroken about this or if it’s just another one of her acts to fool me.

Truth be told, I doubt I know anything about who this woman truly is. Every damn time I think I know her, she surprises me.

“Who sent these?” she asks when she finally speaks.

I scoff in disbelief. “Is that important right now?”

She sniffles and raises her head, blinking back her tears. She might’ve had a moment of weakness when she first walked into my office, but I can tell she’s determined not to show any more weakness in front of me.

My fists clench, my chest tightening.

This is the problem.

I hate her audacity. I hate the way she stands tall and refuses to break or be vulnerable no matter what. And for some reason, I recognize that her strength is the biggest reason I’m attracted to her.

It’s too complicated.

She’s nothing like the other women I’ve been with. She’s mouthy, proud, and has the attitude and courage to back it up.