Page 57 of Plus-Sized Bratva Prisoner

I roll my eyes and slam the binder down onto my desk.

I’ve been in there twice this morning to throw the death glare at her, and she just isn’t getting the message.

Now she’s pushing me too far.

More laughter drifts from Yefim’s office into mine. “Oh Yef, you really are amazing. We should go for a drink sometime after work.”

His reply is calm, quiet. I can’t make out what he says, but I swear if he agreed to go drinking with her—

I actually can’t handle this for another second.

She is fully aware that we are married. She is fully aware that I am right next door in the next office and can hear everything she’s saying. But for some reason she is underestimating me.

I stand up, straighten my suit dress and push my shoulders back. I don’t exactly what to cause a scene, but if that’s what I have to do to sort this out then so be it.

Marching towards Yefim’s office, my high heels click loudly on the tiled office floor. His door is wide open, and I don’t bother knocking. Why the hell should I? I am his wife, after all.

I walk straight over to the desk where, as I suspected, Zoey is leaning right over Yefim, pointing at something on the paperwork in front of him.

I grab the back of her dress and yank her down into her seat.

She gasps with fright.

“What do you think you are doing?" she huffs in annoyance.

“Shut up and listen very carefully.” I lean close to her face and talk directly to her. “I don’t know you’re stupid, or if you’re just assuming that I am, but if I catch you falling over my husband one more time, I am going to personally drag youfrom this building and ensure that you never work for this family again. Keep your dirty little hands to yourself. You are not going for a drink with my husband. You are not going to lean over his desk even one more—"

“I wasn’t doing—"

“You know what. Just get out. I’ve actually had enough. Pick up your handbag, scrape whatever dignity you have off the floor, and get the fuck out of my husband’s office.”

She stares at me, eyes wide in total shock, her mouth hanging open. Then she looks towards Yefim, seeking some kind of backup. But he’s leaning back in his office chair with his arms folded across his chest, his sleeves rolled up over his thick forearms, and the most amused grin on his face.

“Yef?” she whimpers.

I tilt my head. “Zoey, don’t even speak to him. If you want to push me further, you’ll lose your job. If you want to make this easy, just stand up and leave.”

She’s still staring at my husband. He shrugs.

“This is the most ridiculous thing I’ve ever heard. How dare you? Do you know who I am?”

“Yes, you’re the tramp whose been trying to get my husband to sleep with you since you walked through that door. And I’m his wife, and I’m telling you, without any miscommunication, to fuck off.”

Her eyes are bright with tears. Her face is flushed with embarrassment.

She stands up, her office chair rolling loudly away from her. She spins towards the sofa where she left her handbag and her phone and grabs both of them, then storms out of the office. Not another word, not another glance over at Yefim.

I turn towards Yefim, waiting for him to tell me I was rude or over the top and to call her back.

But he still has that same grin on his face.

I shoot him an angry look. He should have told her to back off. I shouldn’t have had to do that myself.

“Do you feel better now?” he chuckles.

“Are you going to let her come back here?” I snap.

“Not a chance. I wouldn’t dare.” He lifts his chin towards me, still looking very amused. “What would you do if I let her come back here?”

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