Page 34 of Innocently Imprisoned By the Bratva

"Sorry," I say, rolling my eyes. "I was just making sure your latest employee is happy. Is that a crime?”

“Not my employee yet,” Boris reminds me pointedly.

"Ah yes, the kidnapped girl you've taken under your wing," Damien remarks, chuckling at his own joke. "But let's get down to business. We have an update on Lenny's daughter."

"Finally," I mutter, taking my seat. "What's the news?"

"Progress, but not much," Damien admits, pushing up his glasses. "We've managed to track down some airline tickets with her name on them. She was in Cabo but is heading into Europe next. We believe she’s going on a vacation, but her current whereabouts are still unknown."

"Dammit," I curse under my breath. The search for Lenny's daughter is just another thorn in our side, and I wonder how much longer it will take before we can finally locate her. “We need to find her to kidnap her and get Lenny to return our money to us. Until we have her, he’s going to stay in hiding.”

“Let me remind you,” Boris says, startling me out of my thoughts. "We must confirm the identity of Lenny's daughter before making any further moves this time. No more kidnapping the wrong person, got it?”

"Understood," Damien replies, nodding solemnly.

“This order is especially for you, Lev,” Boris looks at me pointedly. “No hair-brained schemes.”

“I got it, alright?” I say, raising my hands in defeat. “Jeez. Make a mistake once…”

“Once is one time too many,” Damien tells me with a straight face.

In return, I show him my middle finger.

“Alright, that’s enough now,” Boris tells us. “We have another meeting to attend.”

***

The team meeting is in full swing by the time we Zolotov brothers get in. People scurry away, making room for us at the front.

I look around the crowded room. Over five dozen employees sit on benches, listening to the presentations on screen.

It’s our monthly scrum session, where a person presents a problem the company’s been having and the possible solutions along with it.

My phone buzzes in my pocket, and I resist the urge to check it. But when it buzzes again, I can't help myself. My eyes widen as I read the text from Tasha: "Pippa is presenting on transportation. I’m forcing her to. She's got some interesting ideas on cutting fuel costs. Stay tuned.”

My heart slams in my chest. These presentations can be brutal, the question and answer round enough to make the most seasoned employee sweat. I feel nervous and pray that Pippa doesn’t face a setback.

I sit up higher in my chair and look around. At last, I spot her at the back, making some notes on her laptop. She looks confident and focused, a woman on a mission, that cute double-chin right in place when she’s this focused. I try to catch her eye to wish her luck but get no response.

At this moment, nothing but the presentation matters to her. I and the world, are dead to her.

At last, someone introduces Pippa Anderson. I watch as she stands and walks to the stage. Beside me, both Boris and Damien exchange looks, sitting up straighter.

“Did you know about this?” Damien asks.

“I do now.”

Pippa stands on the stage, the spotlight on her, and I notice how she keeps her back straight. “Ladies and gentlemen,” she says. Her voice quivers a little, and I can see her nervousness. “With recent price changes in oil, our on-ground transportation costs have risen rapidly, especially given how we’re transporting liquids, that is, alcohol, cross-nation. As everyone knows, the cost of transporting liquids is far higher than…”

Her voice no longer quivers. I watch, enthralled, as she projects numbers on the screen, confidently explaining her proposal to cut fuel costs by implementing more efficient routes, manufacturing higher stock to ship via sea in crates, and more streamlined vehicle maintenance schedules. She shows the changes in projections, and I can see Boris impressed by the 3% higher bottom-line than before.

"…and with these changes, I believe we can significantly reduce both expenses and our environmental impact from the fuel we burn in our operations," she concludes, her face flushed with excitement.

The room erupts in applause, and I can't help but feel a surge of pride. My Pippa, proving her worth in front of everyone. I hardly even recognize her in this moment.

I’ve never seen her so sure of herself, so in command of a room. Whatever doubts I had fade away. I was right to bring her in today.

"Bravo!" I shout, clapping enthusiastically. "Well done, Pippa!"

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