Page 17 of Forced By the Bratva Beast

And when I enter the questioning room, I’m so glad I did sign up for the research project because the woman behind the door with the questions is just the one I want to see….

“Hello, Sophia. We have to stop meeting in strange places. Nice to see you again.”

I watch her little mouth fall open, aghast, her plump cheeks flushing crimson. Amused and shocked that she’s here, I grin, raising an eyebrow at her professional attire.

This is a completely different woman I’m looking at. Nothing like the innocent, carefree, plain-Jane photo I had on my office desk. Oh no, this one looks about five to ten years older with smoothed-back hair in a low ponytail and nude lipstick. Her freckles are nowhere to be found, and she’s wearing acharcoal pencil skirt with a white, crisp, fitted-collar shirt and a matching vest over the top of it. Her tortoiseshell glasses hide her stunning emerald eyes, but all I want to do is grab her around the waist and kiss her.

She’s thinking about what I did to her. That blush isn’t coming from nowhere. Oh yes. I’m thinking about you too. Her reactions are funny to me, and this is just the type of entertainment I need in here.

“Um, thank you, Officer. You can leave us now. I’ll call you when I’m done,” Sophia says, addressing the prison guard and not me. When she finally does, she puts on a cold front that I see right through.

“Hello, Andrei. Thank you for taking the time to join me today. It’s much appreciated. Please take a seat,” she offers, gesturing to the chair tucked under the table in front of us.

Okay. So, this is the game we’re playing. One where we don’t know one another.

“Sorry. I didn’t catch your name?”

“Ah yes. Sorry. I didn’t have enough time to put my name tag on. My name is Sophia Hearst. Dr. Perri had to leave for a family emergency, unfortunately, so I’m going to be conducting the interview on her behalf.”

“Oh, that’s alright. I think I would much prefer talking to you than Dr. Perri,” I pitch back silkily, my cock twinging inside my pants. This is a cute little game we’re playing and now I’m definitely interested in the questions that are going to be asked.

“Water, Miss Hearst?” I ask, wanting to rattle her cage a little bit as I pour myself one and the blushing beauty coughs.

“No thanks. I already had a water earlier.”

“Good, good. I wouldn’t want you to get dehydrated. Not like the last time we encountered each other.” Grinning at her wolfishly, I watch as her shoulders stiffen. Gotcha, Ms. Hearst.

“Thank you. I’m going to start with placing this tape recorder on record and that will start the interview. Are you okay with this?” Prickly and under duress, her bottom lip quivers as she carefully sets down the recorder.

“Yes, of course. That’s what I came here for. Go ahead.” I sit back in my chair, flicking out my tongue, reminding her of the apparatus I used so expertly on her. She frowns, her face reddening.

“Alright.” Her eyes harden as she clicks the recorder on, picking up her pencil, and opening a manila folder. Case notes. They must be my file notes. Nice and thick. I’m impressed. They’ve got some serious information on me.

“Let’s start with your full name and where you were born.”

Smirking, I crick my neck, rubbing at the base, cutting my eyes at her. “Andrei Utkin, and I’m from a little town just outside of Moscow. You wouldn’t know it. Have you ever traveled outside of United States, Sophia?” I probe, her cheeks bloom with that red glow I like.

“No, but can you tell me what the town is called, please?” she asks tersely.

Chuckling, I nod at her. “Okay. Ms. Hearst. Uglich.”

She scribbles the town down furiously, ticking a box as I peer over her hand to see. Drawing back, she senses how close I’m getting. Perfect. She’s uncomfortable.

“When were you born?” she asks, her voice even.

“Ah, I’m thirty-nine, but I don’t see why this should be an issue between us,” I answer, rocking the boat with a wide grin. “We have history now.”

“I don’t know what you mean, but thanks,” she quips, launching into the next question.

“Are you part of a Bratva organization?”

“Are you dating anybody?” I lean forward as Sophia’s eyes dart around for a second as if she’s looking for someone to find us out.

“They’re not looking in here. Trust me. I should know.” Grinning at her, she continues, clearly shaken.

“If you could stick to answering the questions, that would great.”

“Okay, okay, I’ll try not to fuck it up. I was born in 1985. How about you?”

---