Page 8 of Captured By the Bratva

Once we’re alone, I lean forward, my eyes narrowing at Dimitri. “What’s the issue?”

Dimitri looks at me intently. “What have you thought about Jeff Harrison’s case?”

I take a sip of my drink, letting the smooth whiskey burn its way down. “I’m still thinking about it. Jeff is offering good money, but I don’t have the time to babysit the Harrison princess. Besides, I never liked Jeff Harrison, and I doubt I’d like his daughter or her family. So why waste my fucking time protecting her?”

Dimitri sighs, a rare display of frustration from him. “We don’t have a choice, Kirill.”

I frown, setting my glass down. “What do you mean we don’t have a choice?”

“Jeff already sent the money,” Dimitri reveals, his voice heavy.

I stare at him, incredulous. “What… how?”

“He hired someone to drop the money in your office,” Dimitri explains. “It’s already there.”

I laugh, a sharp, humorless sound. “We can just return it to him, then. Problem solved.”

Dimitri’s expression darkens. “He’s dead, Kirill.”

The air grows tense, Dimitri’s words hanging over us like a storm cloud. My face hardens, a mix of anger and frustration boiling beneath the surface. My jaw clenches, hands balling into fists. I have one unbreakable rule: once I get the money, I get the job done.

With Jeff gone, there’s no one to return it to. The responsibility now falls squarely on my shoulders.

“Damn it!” I roar, kicking the table in front of me. The heavy wood skids across the floor, scattering glasses and bottles. The escorts nearby flinch, their eyes wide with fear, but they remain silent, knowing better than to intervene.

“It’s like I’m being forced to take this job,” I mutter, my voice a low growl. My chest rises and falls with each angry breath, the tension radiating off me in waves.

Dimitri steps forward, his hands raised in a calming gesture. “Kirill, we need to handle this. Jeff trusted us—trusted you—to protect his daughter. We can’t ignore that.”

Ivan, ever the stoic presence, nods in agreement. “He’s right, Brother. We have to see this through.”

My eyes flash with fury, but I take a deep breath, forcing myself to regain control. I can’t afford to lose my temper now. “What happened?” I finally ask, my voice still tinged with anger.

Dimitri shakes his head. “I don’t know the details. He passed away at home, apparently.”

I curse under my breath, my mind racing. The thought of being manipulated into this situation grates on me, but I know I have no choice. Once the money is taken, the job must be completed. It’s a matter of honor and reputation.

I pace for a moment, my anger simmering but controlled. “Fine. We’ll do it.”

Dimitri nods, relieved to see me calming down. “We’ll get it done. We always do.”

I take another deep breath, forcing a sense of calm over myself. I turn towards the scattered remains of our table and call out, “Girls, come back.”

The escorts slowly return, their eyes wary but eager to please. One of them, the brunette from earlier, approaches me with a sultry smile. She sits on my lap, her arms draping around my shoulders as she leans in to whispers a hello against my ear.

“Shut up and sit quietly,” I order.

The girl’s smile falters, but she obeys, settling into my lap without another word. The tension in the room eases slightly as the escorts resume their positions, trying to bring a semblance of normalcy back to the evening. Someone arrives to clear the table, and the floor where glasses shattered.

My mind, however, is far from at ease. The weight of this new responsibility presses down on me, a constant reminder of the task ahead. Protecting that stupid Harrison girl is now my duty, and I will see it through.

With the table fixed and order restored, Ivan waves over a waiter and orders more drinks for everyone. The tension in the air remains thick, but the steady rhythm of the club’s music and the arrival of fresh glasses of whiskey provide a momentary distraction.

I take a deep breath, trying to channel my anger into focus. “Dimitri,” I say, my voice still laced with frustration, “I want you to find out everything you can about Jeff Harrison’s death—when and how it happened, every detail. As much on the Harrison girl as you can. I want to know her schedule, her career, the places she frequents. Anything to make this job easier.”

Dimitri nods, his expression serious. “Understood, Kirill. I’ll get on it immediately.”

Ivan, ever the calm presence, takes a sip of his drink and looks at me.

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