Page 2 of Forced By the Bratva

I leaned in, elbows on the table. “Some things aren’t adding up in the files my supervisor asked me to clean up.”

Her brows knit together, accentuating the hint of confusion in her gaze. She edged closer. “Like what?”

“I’m not at liberty to say,” I replied. “Honestly, I don’t even have a clear picture yet. But I can feel it in my bones that something’s off.”

“Okay…um…let’s not jump to conclusions yet.” She cleared her throat. “Maybe if…”

My phone chimed on the table, interrupting her. I glanced at the screen and saw it was a text from my supervisor.

It read: Miss Hart. How’s it going? Are you almost done?

I stared at the screen a moment longer than I should, my heart skipping a beat.

“Everything all right?” Eve’s voice sliced through my thoughts.

“Yeah.” I looked up at her. “That was my supervisor. He wants to know if I’m almost done with the file.”

“Are you?” she asked. “…almost done?”

I rubbed the back of my neck, rolling it in a massaging motion.

“Go,” she said. “Finish up your assignment. Then we can talk.”

“Are you sure?” I raised my brows.

“What kind of friend would I be if I were the reason you lost your job?” A pause. “Get to work.”

I reached out and took her hand. “I’ll make it up to you. I promise.”

“You better.” She locked her jaw, attempting to suppress her smile.

I grabbed my coffee and bag and headed out of the café.

“Call me when you get home!”

“Will do!” I raised my cup in acknowledgment.

The cool evening breeze brushed my face the second I stepped out of the café. My thumb rattled across the keyboard as I replied to my supervisor’s text.

Almost done, Boss.

I hit send and slid the phone into my pocket.

The golden glow of the setting sun draped over the busy streets, and blaring horns filled the air.

I pulled my coat together and started walking down the block. Cars rolled past, their tires hissing over the pavement.

A bus sighed to a stop at the curb, letting a few people off as I headed to my apartment. In under twenty minutes, I was home.

Once inside, I hung my coat on the hook by the door, tossed the keys on the nearest table, and kicked my shoes off.

The floor was cool beneath my socks as I strolled into my small living room and dropped my bag onto the couch. I piled my hair into a messy bun on my way upstairs.

I took a nice, warm bath and then headed down again, ready for work. After changing into my favorite nightgown, I sat at my desk by the window in my living room and cracked my knuckles.

“All right, Iris.” I let out a soft sigh, eyes on my lit screens.

My workspace was simple: two monitors, a cheap ergonomic chair I’d bought secondhand, and an Alienware keyboard. It wasn’t much. But it always got the job done.