Page 30 of Brutal Bratva King

“Go, it's fine. Carry on,” I huff and wave my hand to chase him on his way.

Glancing at Anya, she doesn’t look the least bothered by what happened. Her eyes are bright and wide with curiosity.

“Come on, I’ll introduce you to the foreman.” I lead her towards a slightly quieter section of the warehouse.

I take her hand in mine because she’s so curious about everything. She’s looking around and I don’t get the sense that she is paying attention to where she is going.

“Nathan!” I shout over the noise, getting the foreman’s attention.

“Rodion, give me a second. I’ll be right with you!” he shouts back, squatting down next to some boxes to scan something on the label.

He stands up, hands out a few instructions to the men around him, and then walks over to us with a broad smile.

“Hello, hello. Is this your lovely wife we’ve heard so much about?” he holds his hand out to Anya, then realizes how dirty it is and wipes it down his pants a few times before trying again. She laughs and shakes his hand enthusiastically.

“Hello,” she says with a big smile.

“Anya, this is Nathan. He pretty much runs this place when I’m not around.”

“That’s great,” she replies. “It’s nice to meet you.”

“I’m showing her around because she wants to learn about what we do.”

“A curious mind is a healthy mind,” Nathan says, then we hear his name being called from across the warehouse and he excuses himself.

“Sorry, it’s chaos here today. I’ve got to go.”

“Get back to it. We won’t keep you,” I nod.

For an hour Anya and I walk around and chat to the workers, watching them do various tasks while Anya asks plenty of questions. It impresses me that she reacts exactly the same to a guy in filthy overalls as she does to a guy in a suit. There is no discrimination in her interaction or curiosity about the roles they play.

She gets on with everyone and treats them all with the same amount of respect.

Spending the day with her like this has changed my perspective with regards to her ‘spoiled brat’ nature and I realize that she was only appearing to be that way because she didn’t have a chance to be anything else. Or perhaps it's because I never had a chance to see her in a different environment. It reminds me that I have a lot to still learn about who she is. I don’t really know her at all.

When I tell her it’s time to go because I need to get home to deal with some new orders that came in, she is disappointed. At home, she sits with me while I go through the emails and how clients place orders using certain code words. She is fascinated by everything.

After our first visit to that business venue goes well, I start taking her to others whenever I have to make a stop in at one of them.

She’s learning a lot and then when we get home, at dinner time, she asks me even more questions. I find it reallycute but also impressive. She catches on quickly and remembers information easily. She knows the names of most of the workers and remembers their roles. Anya is much smarter than I thought she was when I first met her. But then again, I knew she was special, so I shouldn’t be surprised.

It’s late Saturday morning and I just got a call that I have to go into one of the warehouses because there was an issue. It wasn’t too clear what was going on, but it sounded like a dispute between two of the workers. Something annoying and time wasting, but I need to deal with it nonetheless.

“Anya, do you want to join me? I’m headed to the warehouse by the docks,” I shout up the stairs towards her.

“Definitely,” she calls out. “I’ll be ready in five minutes.”

We arrive and there appears to be a lot of commotion coming from inside. “What the hell?” I groan, hurrying into the warehouse. Anya sticks close to me as she knows she has to.

Walking into the space, there is a heated shout of anger and the thunderously loud snap of a gunshot. The steel door next to us cracks at the impact of the bullet and several people duck to the floor.

I spin, pulling Anya protectively against my body. Chaos erupts around us as workers begin running in all directions.

Looking up over the panicked crowd, I see two workers wrestle another one to the ground and kick a gun away from him.

“Fucking, Frankie,” I snarl in anger. It’s the second time he’s lost his temper and put other people in danger. Last time, he didn’t have a gun, though—so this has definitely escalated.

Looking down at Anya, her eyes are wide with shock and her whole body is shaking.

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