Page 30 of Plus-Sized Bratva Prisoner

“Sadly, I’m always at work. What do you do for fun?”

I laugh too. “Sadly, I’m always working, too.”

“A match made in heaven, then?” He tilts his head towards me and raises his eyebrows.

“I don’twantto work twenty-four hours a day. Right now, or lately, it’s just been necessary. One day, I hope to make enough to enjoy my jobandto enjoy my life.”

“What will you do one day when you are rich, Tia?”

“I’ll travel. Definitely. I want to see the world. I want to explore new places.”

“Have you traveled before?”

“Not yet. My family did not have a lot of money growing up—my mom…well, I guess you know about my mother.”

“Hm. Yes. Well, perhaps one day we will travel together.”

I nod, skeptical of agreeing to something like that, because as soon as we have reached our agreement with this marriage I will be leaving.

Dinner is relaxed and enjoyable, and afterwards I go to bed.

***

The next morning, after breakfast, Yefim and I are sitting at the dining room table again with paperwork spread out around us.

“This is the shipment schedule. You will need to familiarize yourself with it.”

“Where is your biggest client base?”

Yefim is sitting close to me at the table, and beneath it our legs keep brushing against each other. It's annoying, because every time it happens, I feel electricity running through my body and it distracts me.

“A lot of our clients are here in the area, but we have some big clients overseas. Here’s a list of destinations we courier to often.”

He hands me a binder titled ‘Client Information.’

Just beneath it is another one titled ‘Staff.’

We go through different routes, products, clients, schedules—until my brain feels like it is going to explode. All the while, I’m fighting this attraction to him that just seems to be getting stronger the more time I spend with him.

I can’t help but notice the little things about him that I find attractive. The way those dimples form on his cheeks when he smiles. The way just one of his eyebrows raises when he’s amused. How he cracks his knuckles when he’s thinking, and when he runs his hands through his hair, I have to stop myself from gawking at his extremely toned arms and shoulders.

His entire body is very muscular. Now that he isn’t in the office, he’s been wearing black tee shirts around the house. That means I get to see his arms all day long, and I get a clearer look at the way the soft tee shirt fabric clings to his six pack.

I can’t be attracted to him like this, though. It’s so wrong on so many levels. He’s Bratva, and I know what that means. They are cruel, menacing, dangerous people. You don’t mess with them. I mean, the entire reason I’m in this situation is because if I didn’t agree to it, they would have killed me.

How can I be okay with letting myself be attracted to someone who was otherwise willing to kill me?

“Do you understand it all?”

Shit. I wasn’t paying attention. This is what happens when I’m too close to him.

“Um.”

“Were you listening?”

“I’m so sorry—we’ve been at it for three hours, and I zoned out a little.” I bite my lower lip, thinking he’ll have upset me. I still see him as my boss, and I just told my boss I wasn’t listening during a kind of a work meeting.

But instead of being upset, he runs his hand over my leg beneath the table and chuckles that deep, vibrating laugh.

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