Page 14 of The Bratva's Secret Twins

Her name was Jessica, and she shared her devastating experience. An agency owner had conditioned representation on sexual favors, crushing her aspirations. I’d witnessed her tears, her pain, and her disillusionment. These stories lingered, fueling my skepticism. Now, as I considered this opportunity, fears resurfaced. Other models’ experiences from the dressing room haunted me—tales of men trading opportunities for sex. Some of the models laughed it off as a necessary evil, and others condemned it.

I didn’t want any of that, and it was infuriating that these men saw women like us as objects to be used before offering a helping hand.

I frowned, unable to suppress the contempt roiling in my stomach.

Immediately, I found myself recalling an incident at the after-party a few nights ago, and a faint smile lined a corner of my lips. I should’ve been upset, given the content of my thoughts, but for some reason, I wasn’t. Instead, I felt a weird sense of calm.

The man from the crowd had approached me during the party, and even now, I could still remember the smell of his cologne. As I shut my eyes, his rigid yet handsome face flashed in my head.

The Russian man was hot—dangerous but hot. He was older than I was, obviously. Yet I couldn’t help but find him attractive. When we’d first locked eyes while I walked the runway, I had hoped to see him again despite myself.

He was smooth with conversation, but I had to be headstrong, especially since I’d realized that he was the type who always got what he wanted. I wouldn’t be yet another girl he’d get into his bed without even trying.

Behind the good looks and class, something dark lurked within the mysterious Russian man, something evil. At this point, the faint smile that I was wearing was gradually fading away.

There was something menacing about him. I didn’t know exactly what it was, but I knew it would be in my best interest if I stayed away from men like him. He seemed like trouble, and trouble was the last thing I needed at this point in my life.

Relax, Vivian. It’s not like you’re going to see him again.

Other voices in my head jumped in, claiming, Yeah, it’s not like he’s going to waltz in through the front door.

My eyes widened as I stood there, frozen in stock, gazing at the man walking in through the front door.

You were saying?

“You have got to be kidding me,” I mumbled to myself, struggling to stay calm as I attended to a customer.

I bagged her order and handed it over to her with a warm smile. “Thank you for your patronage.”

She flashed a grin at me and left.

I tried not to look at him as he walked toward me with a scary-looking guy at his side.

How did he find me?

It took me a few seconds to get a hold of myself, but eventually, I did, and I tried to remain composed. I made up my mind to attend to him as the customer that he was without any personal attachments. I hoped that he wouldn’t bring up the incident of that night at the after-party.

“We meet again,” he said to me with a cocky smirk, halting before the counter.

I faked a smile, a bit nervous. “Hi, welcome to Solenoir. How may I assist you today…sir?” I cleared my throat.

He looked at me without saying a word, but he still had that cocky smirk on his face. He was staring at me, and my heart was racing.

His dashing presence left me breathless, his gaze rendering me momentarily speechless. As the awkwardness grew, I struggled to regain control of my thoughts, my mind racing to compose myself and break free from the spell of his captivating eyes.

“Mr. Wolkov, how can I assist you today?” I tried again, almost slapping a hand over my mouth when I realized what I’d said.

His grin turned sly. “You still remember my name.”

Ugh. I slipped up.

I was quietly stealing glances at the serious-faced man in a brown suit by his side, looking like the fucking Terminator.

“I can think of a few things you can assist me with,” he responded, his eyes holding promise.

A dirty image flashed in my head, but I was quick to dismiss it.

It was inappropriate.

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