Page 4 of Caught By the Bratva Beast

Yegor sighs, his legs uncrossing, his heels tapping against the floor. “I understand.”

“I sure hope so.” I drape my arm over the back of the couch, looking out the window as Boris is dragged from the building, and to a white van sitting by the curb. “Let this be a lesson to you as well. I will not tolerate rats in my house.”

He nods, legs stilling. “We have other business to deal with as well.”

“Such as?”

“You have a charity fundraiser at The Serpentine.” Yegor pulls out his phone, scrolling until he stops. “This Friday.”

“Why would I agree to host a charity event at my most profitable casino on a Friday night?” I keep my tone even, though inside the annoyance is simmering.

Closing the casino for a night to host a charity event means a loss of profit. All eyes are going to be on me to set the tone for the evening. The absolute last thing I want to do is spend the night parading around in a tux and coddling people in hopes of raising more money for whatever charity Yegor has picked while organizing the event.

Yegor, as if reading my thoughts gives me a stern glare like the one my mother used to give me when I was a child. “You’re supporting research on breast cancer.”

He was smart. When he decided to support breast cancer research, he picked the one fundraiser I would be sure to attend.

The downside of working with the same man for fifteen years–he knows me too well.

“Tell me you didn’t have my mother’s story printed out to be plastered on the walls like she was some kind of spectacle at the zoo.” I pinch the bridge of my nose, trying to stave off the oncoming headache.

“It’s a good story. Adds a personal touch.”

“There doesn’t need to be a personal touch. Raising money for breast cancer research is enough.”

“The media are going to be there. You want to keep up the good public image, especially with the attention that’s being brought toward the Bratva on occasion.”

Groaning, I tilt my head back and look up at the ceiling, turning the pros and cons over in my mind.

My mother’s story doesn’t need to be printed on eight-foot-tall banners and hung around the casino for people to read. Nobody needs to know my history. Nobody needs to know anything about my background.

I’ve spent the last forty-one years of my life keeping my family life private. From birth to death, I’ve vowed that nobody is ever going to get the power to hurt me.

And I’ve kept that promise to myself. A charity event isn’t going to change that.

I stand and return to my desk, settling in the seat and pulling up the emails on my computer. “We will not be putting her story out there. You’re going to find another connection to breast cancer, and then you will run with that.”

“Maxim—”

“I wasn’t looking for a fucking argument.” I glance around the computer at him, staring until he shrinks back in the armchair, his fingers white as he clasps his hands tighter together. “You’ll find someone else to showcase, or I won’t show up. Understood?”

Yegor bows his head and stands. “Sure, boss. Understood.”

“Good, then stop wasting my time. You’ve got to find a new story.”

As Yegor spins and walks out of the room, I glower at the door, wondering if it would have been easier to tell the man to cancel the event altogether.

The Bratva may value philanthropy, but I don’t when it comes at the cost of my privacy.

Yegor pauses just outside the door before turning back around. “I’ll arrange for a car to get you for the event. Will you be needing a date as well?”

“Do I need a woman to hang off my arm like a fucking candy and beg for attention? Do I want to spend the night catering to both, her, and the people my business is seeking money from?” My voice dripped with sarcasm.

My chair tips back as I keep my gaze locked on Yegor.

He shrivels slightly beneath my stare, the muscle in his jaw working overtime. “I suppose you don’t.”

“Correct.”

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