Page 94 of Plus-Sized Bratva Prisoner

She smiles at me. I can see she feels proud of herself, and she should. She’s proven invaluable in every aspect of the business she becomes involved in.

And even more invaluable to my heart.

In my world, everything is violent. Men like Giorgio Vitali provoke others—bring out the worst in men. He incites madness and anger, and I don’t think he has ever had a truce last this long without it turning dark.

For some reason, Tia has managed to keep both sides calm with her unique approach. I watch her talking to him sometimes and just marvel at her brilliance, her sharp and understanding mind.

She is beautiful and intelligent. And I am the luckiest man alive to be able to call her my wife.

“I’ll leave you to it. But get it done by three, so I don’t have to go to this stupid meeting alone,” I say, tilting my head towards her.

“I would never do that to you, my love,” she laughs.

I head back to my own office to finish the things I need to do for the afternoon.

***

At three o'clock, I sigh heavily, not looking forward to this at all.

Tia walks into my office, looking bright and cheerful. “Are you ready?”

“The driver is waiting downstairs,” I mumble, clearly not happy about any of it.

She holds out her arm and wraps her fingers through mine when I get to her. Then we walk hand in hand through the building towards the parking lot, where the car is waiting.

Walking into meetings with Giorgio Vitali always gets my hackles up. The hairs stand on the back of my neck, and I feel the reassuring weight of my Glock in my belt beneath my jacket.

Tia squeezes my hand, knowing how I feel.

She smiles broadly and steps directly up to Giorgio with her hand held out.

“Giorgio, it’s so good to see you today,” she says confidently.

He shakes her hand, smiling. Despite his constant aggravation and all the frustration he likes to cause for the rest of us, I think he has a soft spot for Tia.

Who wouldn’t? She’s brilliant. She knows how to deal with people. Even difficult assholes like him.

He turns to me and greets me with one nod. “Yefim,” he says, toneless and cold.

Tia pulls out a chair at the coffee shop we choose for every meeting. It’s on the border between both of our territories and keeps us both safe.

She sits down. “So, you wanted to discuss the overlapping shipping lanes?” she asks, sounding like she’s discussing her favorite flavor of ice-cream with her best friend.

“Yes, it’s causing problems for me.”

“What problems? I’m sure we can find a solution.”

He shrugs. It’s clear there are no problems. He just likes to complain.

Tia works around the conversation with expert care, listening, being attentive, giving him what he wants without giving him anything at all.

By the time we all finish our coffee, his concerns are resolved.

I haven’t said a word apart from greeting the man. She’s right. She’s always right. If I just let her do the talking in these meetings, things go smoothly.

We stand up and say goodbye politely. Giorgio shakes Tia’s hand, and then to my surprise, he holds his hand towards me to shake mine as well.

I shake his, laughing inwardly because Tia is so fucking good at this.

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