Page 45 of Paid for By the Bratva

"No, it's a promise."

With that, I throw a punch at the man's jaw, and he stumbles backward. His buddies quickly join the fray, but I'm ready for them. My body moves on instinct, honed by years of training and experience in handling situations like this.

"Boss, we've got your back!" a bouncer calls out, rushing to my aid.

"Take the girls to safety first!" I order before returning my focus to the attackers.

I hear him barking orders at someone to get the girls away while a few of the other bodyguards join in. While distracted, one of the men slams a glass bottle on my head. I duck, twisting his hand, but not before it breaks, and the shards go into my forehead.

Blood trickles down my forehead, blurring my vision as he punches me in the eye.

I land a high kick to his neck and slam a fist to his chest; the echo of bone against bone rings in my ears, and the man crumples to the floor, unconscious. The other men are quickly subdued by my staff, their faces terrified. It's clear they underestimated us.

"Get them out of here," I command, my chest heaving as the adrenaline begins to wear off. "And make sure they never come back. If they do, make sure they lose a limb."

"Understood, Boss."

As the remaining bouncers escort the troublemakers from the club, I take a moment to check in on the girls. Oncecertain they’re alright, I call them for one of our valet-driven escort cars. “They’ll get you home,” I tell Rita and Anastasia, who give me relieved nods. “And from tomorrow,” I inform my head of security, Riza. “All girls will be escorted to their transportation. I never want what happened tonight to happen here again. This is their workplace. They deserve to feel safe.”

“Understood, Boss,” Riza says.

After handing over the instructions, I survey the damage. Broken glass and overturned furniture litter the entrance, but thankfully, it appears that no one was seriously hurt.

"Lara," I murmur, suddenly relieved she wasn’t here tonight. She could have gotten hurt. The thought terrifies me.

"Boss, you did good," one of the waitresses says, touching my arm gently.

"Thanks," I reply, forcing a smile.

Chapter 15 - Lara

I pace the living room, my heart pounding in my chest as I glance at the clock on the wall. 3:17 am. He said he'd be home by midnight. The worry gnaws at me. Dima isn't one to break his word, especially since he’s still trying so hard to make up for his mistake despite the fact that I’ve forgiven him. With each passing minute, my anxiety grows.

I've never been this worried about him before, and I can't help but feel responsible for his safety, as I know he would mine.

Just then, my thoughts are interrupted by the sound of the front door creaking open. Relief washes over me, followed quickly by shock when I run down the stairs to see Dima stumble inside. His face is bruised and bloodied, and my heart drops like a stone.

"Dima!" I cry out, rushing toward him. "What happened?"

He winces as he meets my gaze, attempting a reassuring smile that falls flat as he tries to hide his face from me, turning to the shadows. "It's nothing, Lara," he says, his voice strained. "Just some…complications at the club."

"Complications?" I echo, going to stand in front of him to see what he’s trying to hide. "You're covered in blood and bruises! This is far from nothing."

He sighs, running a hand through his disheveled hair. "Look, it's just part of the job sometimes. I promise I'll be fine."

"Please," I plead, my eyes filling with tears as I reach out to touch his battered face. "Let me help you. I can't stand to see you like this."

Dima hesitates, then finally nods, allowing me to lead him to the bathroom of my bedroom where I can clean his wounds. I watch his reflection in the mirror as I pull out the first aid kit, completely petrified to ask what happened.

All the while, my heart aches for this man who has become so very important to me.

"Sit down," I instruct gently, indicating the closed toilet lid, the box of supplies laid out on the counter beside us.

"Really, Lara, you don't have to fuss over me like this," Dima protests, wincing slightly as he lowers himself onto the seat.

"Of course I have to," I snap, the worry in my voice betraying my attempt at sternness. "You must be in so much pain."

His sigh is one of resignation, and I take that as permission to proceed. Darting into the mini fridge in my room, I quickly retrieve an ice pack from the freezer, feeling my heart race with each second that ticks by.

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