Page 21 of Forced Bratva Wife

Staring past Pietor, I admired my favorite piece of art while sipping the Glen Fidditch I’d poured myself into one of my lead crystal rocks glasses.

Magdalena. In oil.

The painting hung in a massive, gilded frame and sat directly across from me when I worked at my desk. She was a tortured beauty, toiling but depicted sensually with the shoulder of her dress slipping down.

“So,” Pietor’s voice shook me from my thoughts, “I hate to admit when you’re right.”

“Yes…” I dragged out the word, well aware and waiting for him to get to the point.

“These are obviously fixed beyond the requested laundering. His profits are too good, and he tries to hide it in expenses, but there’s nothing in his office to support the supposed purchases. Plus, Pavel’s reporting the same payout to us no matter what. We both know Sergey would have arranged for a percentage, not a flat fee.”

Pietor tossed the book back on the desk. He employed his classic casual nonchalance, chewing on his tongue. As he pulled his arms behind his head, the wide stretch of his shoulders was even more obvious, and I knew he was very pretty satisfied with his inspection.

Vadim men and women were known for their strong genetics, and Pietor and I were no exception. We both shared the same tall, dark, and intimidating appearance, although Pietor had a unique feature with one blue and one green eye.

I grabbed the book, tucking it in the locking drawer of my desk. “Have a team sweep Pavel’s office again.”

Pietor smirked at me, raising his brows as he exhaled hard. “Won’t do much good if he’s there.”

I rolled my eyes, frowning as I offered him a scoff. “I’m aware. I think a little visit is in order for dear old dad and his innocent daughter.”

“Innocent?” Pietor cocked a brow.

I eyed him, gripping my whiskey glass. “That’s enough.”

“Ugh. Get your cock untwisted.” Pietor stood up from the large leather chair, straightening his black jean jacket. “Doesn’t she have anything useful to offer…besides her ass?”

I gripped the crystal tumbler tight as I went to take another sip, clenching my jaw hard enough to feel it crack. I wasn’t about to respond to that comment.

“Have your team on standby. I’ll be sending someone to retrieve Pavel within the hour.”

Gulping down the last of my whiskey, I set the empty container on the leather blotter atop my desk. My phone was just to the right of my laptop, and I swiped it up, getting the contact number for my delivery crew.

Pietor just raised his brows at me and turned to the door.

“Sure.” As he walked off, I narrowed my eyes at the sound of his boots hitting the floor. “I’ll have ‘em there. But I’d like an actual answer about Parker’s usefulness when the bug up your ass has stopped biting.”

He didn’t wait for me to reply, pulling the door wide and leaving to assemble the men for their new scavenger hunt. My blood was quietly boiling as I digested Pietor’s words, an aching throb setting up shop in my temples.

I had little time to deal with Pietor's bullshit, and I wasn’t ready to examine why I was still keeping Parker instead of just locking her away somewhere to threaten with death later. In any case, there was work to be done, and I was quite curious how the little one’s father would react to seeing her actually under my thumb.

Agreeing to something you wouldn’t have to watch happen was a lot easier than being faced with the ugly truth.

***

My men were escorting Pavel inside the house any moment, and I’d had Pietor bring Parker from my room. In just a few moments, I was finally going to get a good peek at their interactions. I still didn’t like what I assumed I knew of the man. He consistently came across as a deceptive and dishonest person, which only added to my suspicion that he was also an abusive father.

“What am I doing here?” Parker’s voice came from the hallway to my right, and I glanced over with a practiced impassive expression.

It nearly cracked when I saw what she’d chosen to wear.

My mouth dry, I raked my gaze across Parker from head to toe, internally beaming as I flagged each article of clothing with what I knew about it. The loose tan jacket gave the illusion of concealment even as it lacked a button closure. The blousy top she wore echoed the jacket’s shape and would provide quite the view whenever she bent forward. I smirked when I reached the skirt.

Interesting choice, little one.

I knew for a fact that I’d provided Parker with zero undergarment options aside from a flimsy bra that I’d ordered just because I wanted to tear it off her and a garter belt because I like the idea of stockings.

She wore the bra, but not the garters because I would have seen them underneath the short black skirt she chose. It hugged her supple ass like a dream, and the tiny slit at the back, which I could admire when she turned to glare at Pietor behind her, gave me so many ideas.

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