Page 37 of Innocently Imprisoned By the Bratva

Just then, the door to the break room swings open, and two employees enter, their faces tight with tension. They seem oblivious to the rest of us as they launch into a heated exchange.

"Are you out of your mind?" one hisses, her eyes darting around the room as if we're all eavesdropping—which, let's face it, I am. "We can't risk exposing ourselves like that!"

"Relax," the other replies, a hint of impatience in his voice. "I've got it under control. Trust me."

"Trust you?" she scoffs. "You're playing with fire, and we're all going to get burned."

"Enough!" he snaps, silencing her. The room goes quiet, and everyone tries their best to look busy. "This is neither the time nor the place for this discussion. We'll talk later."

With that, they storm out, leaving behind a heavy silence. My heart pounds in my ears as I process what I've just witnessed.

"Looks like trouble in paradise," Alex remarks, smirking at the closed door.

"Seems that way," I agree, hiding the thrill that courses through me. So, Yuri wasn’t lying. A majority of the employees here truly have no idea about the illicit activities, even if people happen to overhear conversations regarding such matters in plain sight like we just did

Well, I’ll be damned.

***

That Friday, the sun casts a warm, golden glow on the rooftop garden of the office as we gather for our weekly after-work get-together. Anoushka, Boris’s wife, Robin, and Damien’s wife, Genevieve, always join in for Friday night drinks. Post-drinks, we often head out to town. It’s a sweet tradition, and I’m all for it. It's nice to have a group of women around me who understand the peculiarities of this office.

"Can you believe that guy?" Anoushka rolls her eyes, sipping from her glass of wine. "He thinks he can just waltz in wherever and tell me all what to do."

"Which guy are we talking about?" I ask, trying to keep up with the conversation.

"Lev, of course," she replies, shooting me a knowing grin. "Who else can drive us crazy like he does?"

"Ah, yes, our Lev." I chuckle, remembering the countless times Lev has frustrated and intrigued me in equal measure as well. “So what did he do now?”

“He noticed my car was making a sound and sent it in for an inspection without telling me! I was without a vehicle the whole day. I had to hitch a ride with the bodyguards in their convoy!” She sounds frustrated at the thought of not being able to drive her sports car.

I try to stifle a grin as Robin chimes in with an exaggerated—“Oh, the horror!”

Genevieve and I look at each other and burst out laughing. Robin joins in. Anoushka, on the other hand, simply rolls her eyes and downs her wine in a good-natured manner.

"Speaking of Lev…" Genevieve interjects, pointing over my shoulder. I turn and see Lev entering the garden, deep in conversation with Boris and Damien. They're discussing something serious, their brows furrowed and voices low.

"Look at them," Robin sighs. "Always working, even when they're supposed to be relaxing."

"Maybe we should stage an intervention," Anoushka suggests playfully. "Teach them how to have a little fun."

"Or we could just enjoy ourselves without them." I raise my glass and the others toast in agreement.

***

The hum of the office feels electric this Monday, as it always does the start of the week. I focus on my work, trying not to get too caught up in the atmosphere of distractions, as everyone’s busy assigning tasks, prioritizing last-minute things, and panicking over late deadlines.

"Hey, Pippa, can you help me with these files?" Tanya, one of the other interns, calls out to me. As I walk over to her desk, I see Lev leaning against the wall, chatting with an employee. She’s tall, blonde, and perfectly thin.

She giggles and flutters her eyelashes at him, clearly vying for his attention. An uncomfortable knot forms in my stomach, and it takes me a moment to realize that it's jealousy.

“Pippa, you got the files?” Tanya walks over and stands before me.

"Sure,” I wave them at her. “What do you need help with?" I ask Tanya, trying to keep my voice steady and ignore the scene unfolding behind her.

"Can you just double-check these numbers for me? I think there might be an error." She hands me a pen and a stack of papers, her eyes briefly flicking toward where mine are, toward Lev. She doesn’t say a word, turns back, and walks off to her desk.

"Of course," I reply to no one in particular, forcing myself to concentrate on the task at hand.

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