Page 48 of Stolen By the Bratva King

Revenge is like a blaring alarm inside my head, keeping me going.

Oleg will pay for what he’s done to me, one way or another. Revenge is a dish best served cold, and I’ll make sure he never sees it coming. In the end, he’ll never forget what happens to people who cross me.

I’m too tired and too drunk to form a solid plan right now, but I vow to get ahead of the game the second this haze of alcohol clears. I promise myself to never let my bratva business spiral out of control this badly ever again.

I have a reputation, and a legacy to uphold. A thug like Oleg isn’t going to send my castles crumbling.

17

Hazel

“One chai latte with cinnamon and vanilla drizzle.” Veronica marches up to me and sets the hot drink on my cubicle desk.

I exhale a long sigh of relief and swivel to face her. “You’re the best.”

She plants a hand on her hip, beaming, her dark curls bouncing around her chin. “I know.”

I take the cup and clasp it in my hands, relishing the warmth it brings. “Why is it that a warm latte can cure anything?”

Veronica shrugs. Her expression is casual and unbothered. “I don’t know. It’s just the way it is.”

“I’ll drink to that.” I bring the cup up to my lips and take a first, careful sip so I don’t burn my tongue.

“Maybe we can meet up for more spirited drinks after work?” Veronica arches a suggestive eyebrow.

“I like the way you think. I really think I need a drink with all this.” I let out a groan of frustration, gazing at the ceiling.

Veronica plops down at her desk beside mine, her brows furrowing. “Are you still upset about the story?”

I look at her. “You mean the story I didn’t get to finish?”

She studies me.

“Don’t look at me like that,” I frown.

“Like what?”

“Like you pity me,” I say, pursing my lips. “I don’t want that right now, or ever, really.”

Veronica’s face softens into sympathy. “I wouldneverpity you. You aresostrong. I would have called in sick indefinitely.”

I laugh. “I don’t know whether to be insulted or flattered.”

“Trust me.” She takes a sip of her own latte. “It’s a compliment.”

“Well, thanks, but I really don’t want to be working on this flower festival story.” I yawn and roll my eyes. “Boring.”

“Oh, you mean youdon’twant to cover a bunch of plants who can’t speak back to you?” Her sarcasm is not lost on me.

I laugh and rub my forehead. “I don’t know what’s more insufferable. The plants, or the owners of the plants who can’t stop talking about seeds and watering.”

“It’s work,” Veronica reminds me with a gentle smile.

“I know. I’m not trying to stound like a brat. I just…” I trail off, not really sure what to say because I’m not really sure what I want.

Veronica taps a pen against the edge of her desk, staring at her screen as she says, “no, I get it.”

I lean forward. “You do?”

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