Page 21 of Innocently Imprisoned By the Bratva

"Everything okay?" he asks, a hint of amusement in his voice.

"Fine," I snap, trying not to let my irritation show. "I just need to make a phone call.”

I wait in the car outside Mrs. Thompson's house, grab my phone and dial Mr. Jefferson, my next client for the day. He picks up after two rings.

"Hi, Mr. Jefferson. It's Pippa Anderson. I just wanted to let you know that I'm on my way to your house now."

"Ah, Pippa," he replies hesitantly. "Actually, someone else is already cleaning my house. A man called earlier saying you couldn't make it last week and offered to send another cleaner. I assumed it was a permanent change."

"Excuse me?" I say, my anger rising. "Mr. Jefferson, I've never missed a single day of cleaning for you before last week. Why would you believe some random guy without waiting to speak to me first?"

"I'm sorry, Pippa," he apologizes. "He sounded quite convincing, and I didn't want to be left without a cleaner. I hope you understand."

"Understand?" I grit my teeth, trying to keep my voice steady. "Of course, I understand. But I'll make sure this doesn't happen again."

"Alright, Pippa. Take care."

"Goodbye, Mr. Jefferson," I say, hanging up the call and resisting the urge to throw my phone across the car.

It can't be a coincidence. One cancellation might have been a mix-up, but two? My mind races as I dial my remaining clients, only to discover the same pattern: a man has been calling on my behalf, claiming I'm unavailable and offering alternate cleaners.

"Who does he think he is?" I mutter under my breath. My knuckles turn white as I grip my phone, barely containing my rage.

"Problem?" Dmitri asks from the front seat, his voice oozing with feigned innocence.

"Nothing that concerns you," I snap, glaring daggers at him through the rearview mirror. "Just drive back to Lev’s."

"Whatever you say, Boss," he smirks, turning his attention back to the road.

But in my heart, I know there's only one person brazen enough to mess with my livelihood like this: Lev. And when I get home, I'm going to give him a piece of my mind.

***

The moment I step inside the house, my anger boils over. Lev sits on the couch, sipping scotch from a glass, his eyes at the door. It's as if he's been waiting for this confrontation.

"Lev," I seethe, stomping toward him. "What did you do to my cleaning jobs?"

"Ah, Pippa," he drawls, not even trying to hide his amusement. "Good afternoon to you, too."

"Good afternoon? You've been sabotaging me!" I throw my hands up in the air, my fury barely contained.

"Think of it as a… favor," he says, swirling the liquid in his glass. "You don't need to work those menial jobs anymore."

"Who gave you the right to decide that for me?" I snap, clenching my fists at my sides. "I've worked hard to build my reputation and you just swoop in and ruin everything!"

"Relax, will you?" He stands up and saunters closer, placing a hand on my shoulder. His touch feels like fire on my skin, sending shivers down my spine despite my rage.

"Relax?" My voice cracks as I shrug off his hand. "How can I relax, Lev? This is ruining my financial goals. If I don’t work these jobs, then I can’t pay my expenses and rent. Don’t you get it?"

“And if you work these jobs, you might use it as a chance to escape,” he says, his anger flaring up.

I stand there, stunned.

“Escape?” I say coldly. “I could lose my livelihood, and all you’re worried about is yourself? I won’t run, Lev. I swear. I just need the work.”

“Look, you’ll still get paid, alright?” he tilts his head at me. “Just tell me what you make each month and I’ll give you the cash.” He pulls out his thick, cash-laden wallet and opens it, looking at me expectantly.

I glare at the wallet and then back at him. Is he being serious right now?

---