Page 88 of Ruthless Bratva King

Beneath the polished exterior, my heart races. I never told Elena how bad things had gotten, but I needsomethingto go right.

The guy I was dating turned out to be a real asshole. I’m single, jobless, and if I can’t find something soon, I’ll be homeless too.

The thought of Elena and Dmitri’s upcoming wedding flits through my mind as I step into the cool, air-conditioned lobby.

She deserves her happiness and I can’t wait for the celebration. Their wedding feels like a promise—that some of us can still find happiness amidst all the madness of life.

I can’t spoil her plans by telling her I need help. She’s only just found out she’s pregnant. She doesn’t need my troubles piling up on her.

Still, it’s onwards and upwards. I’ll get this job, get back on track, and forget all about Marco Gorlami, the psycho piece of shit.

The things I had to do to get away from him. I locked down my social media, changed my number, even moved apartment. I was so afraid by the end that I felt nauseated by the sound of his name, let alone the sight of him.

Still, it’s behind me now. I’ll find myself a decent future that doesn’t involve any assholes.

VERONICA

Iapproach the reception desk, where a poised young woman in a charcoal-gray blazer looks up from her screen.

The lobby is pristine, with marble floors that echo with each step and large abstract paintings adorning the walls, their bright colors a stark contrast to the otherwise minimalist design.

“Veronica Bennett,” I say, my most professional smile firmly in place.

She types my name into her computer, her manicured nails clicking softly against the keys. After a moment, she nods. “Eighth floor. Conference Room.”

I clutch my bag tighter. “Thank you,” I reply.

I head toward the elevator bank, the sound of my heels muffled by the plush carpeting. As I wait for the elevator, I glance down at my phone. A text from Elena lights up the screen:

Good luck! Last one didn’t work out, but who gives a shit? You’ll nail this one. I know it. X

Her words make me smile, even if the knot in my stomach refuses to loosen.

I step into the elevator, the mirrored walls reflecting the tension on my face as I press the button for the eighth floor.

The ride feels interminable, the soft instrumental music doing little to soothe my nerves. I glance at the polished buttons, catching a distorted version of myself staring back.

I used to be stronger than this. Marco and his love-bombing got me fooled at first, and for a while, I thought he and I had it all. Then he got nasty.Realnasty.

He doesn’t know how to find me now, and it’s been a while since I saw him last, but the trauma clings to me like cigarettes smoke, choking my confidence at every turn.

Not today.

“Get it together, Vee,” I mutter under my breath.

VERONICA

The doors slide open, revealing a hallway lined with frosted glass doors, each marked with sleek silver lettering.

The air feels colder here, the quiet oppressive. I follow the signs toward the Conference Room, each step amplifying my unease.

Standing outside the room is a middle aged man in a pale blue suit, his posture casual, but there’s something about the way he watches me that sends a chill down my spine. His gaze is sharp, assessing, as though he’s cataloging every move I make.

“Miss Bennett?” he asks, his voice calm.

I nod, fixing my smile back in place even as my instincts scream at me to turn around and leave. “That’s me.”

“This way,” he says, gesturing toward the door with a nod.

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