Page 30 of Used By the Bratva

Boris clears his throat. “At first, I didn’t believe her, but then she started talking about Marina Popov.”

The blood in my veins turns to ice before I start to chuckle. “So, she came looking for you even though I showed her mercy all those years ago?”

“She had my name.” Boris’ tone is brusque, and it seems he is withholding something else from me.

Whatever it is, it will not suppress the joy that flows through me. That's the best news I’ve heard all day. I don’t know what Natalya is doing here, but now she’s in trouble, big trouble.

If Sergey gets wind of her, he'll break down my door. I don’t know if he would kill her or not. He holds back his anger too much and rarely says what he really thinks about Pavel’s death.

“What answers was Natalya looking for?”

“She wanted to know why I've been sending Marina money.” Boris looks toward the door. “I told her you were the one sending the money, and she wanted to talk to you.”

“I hope you told her that a meeting with me would do no good.”

He nods. “She wouldn’t take no for an answer. She’s a feisty and stubborn young woman.”

“Shit. I thought you would tell me you’ve found Na-ta-lie.” I deadpan.

“Yeah, about that. I may have found her too.” He murmurs and gives me a dopey smile.

“Boris, stop fucking with me! So where is this Natalya girl?” The son of a bitch is trying to piss me off.

As he looks toward the door again, he drags his hand over his face and sighs.

“She’s on the other side of the door, isn’t she?”

“Yes.”

I lean back in my chair, rest my forearms on the desk, and interlace my fingers. My gun is next to my hands so I can make an effective statement.

“Send her in.”

Boris hesitates for a moment before reaching for the doorknob. He opens the door and swings it wide open. As the woman passes Boris, she gives him a gentle smile and enters the office. Her head turns toward me as if in slow motion, and she stops abruptly. Her eyes grow as wide as saucers.

Fuck me! I almost choke on my own saliva. This must be some cruel prank.

The woman that I’ve spent lusting after for weeks—jacking off to her image—is standing right here, in front of me. And she’s the daughter of the family I slaughtered.

“Is this some kind of sick joke?” I scoff, looking at Boris.

Natalie—or Natalya—stares at me for seconds before she stammers. “What the–You!–You’re his boss?”

Her mouth snaps shut as her gaze ping-pongs between me and Boris. She steps backward, but Boris moves behind her, blocking her from escaping.

She looks at me in disbelief and stands there like a deer in the headlights. Her lower lip trembles, but the hands hanging at her sides clench into fists. She looks like she is on the verge of tears but blinks rapidly, and her jaw clenches.

I tilt my chin toward the door, and Boris gets the message. He steps out of my office and closes the door behind him.

Natalie spins, reaching for the doorknob.

“Don’t bother. Boris is standing on the other side of the door, waiting to shove you right back in here if you try to run.”

She turns back to me, her hands trembling, her eyes wandering around the room.

“There is no other way out.” I get up and stalk toward her, prancing like a lion chasing its prey.

I let my gaze wander over her breathtaking body, those toned legs, her fucking tiny shorts, and the white T-shirt that clings to her breasts and slim waist. She reminds me again of that little girl all those years ago. What a mind fuck. I should have killed her. She's the last remaining descendant of the monster, Antonio Reyes.

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