Page 26 of An Arranged Virgin for the Bratva

"Fine," I finally concede, my voice tight. "But this doesn't mean I'm incapable."

Vladimir's expression softens slightly. "No one said you were, Sofia. This is about giving you every advantage."

I nod curtly, still not entirely comfortable with the arrangement. "When do we start?"

"Now," Vladimir says, a hint of a challenge in his eyes. "Unless you're not up for it?"

I narrow my eyes at him, rising to the bait despite myself. "Oh, I'm ready. Let's see what you've got, old man."

***

I stand in the center of Vladimir's study, watching him with a mixture of skepticism and curiosity. He moves with practiced ease, his hands deftly applying makeup to his face. Within minutes, his sharp features soften, age lines appear, and his skin tone changes subtly.

"The key is in the details," Vladimir explains, his voice gruff but patient. "A slight change in posture, a different way of walking. These can make you unrecognizable."

I lean against his desk, arms crossed. "And how exactly did you become an expert in disguises? Didn't realize the Bratva offered cosmetology classes."

Vladimir chuckles, holding back a laugh. “Years of infiltrating rival territories with my brothers."

My eyebrow arches. "Really? I find that hard to believe."

He turns to face me, looking decades older than he did moments ago. "It's true. We once spent three months posing as dock workers in St. Petersburg to uncover a traitor."

Despite myself, I'm intrigued. "What happened?"

"We caught him," Vladimir says simply, reaching for a wig. "But not before I learned how crucial a convincing disguise can be."

I watch as he adjusts the gray-streaked hair over his own. "And your brothers? They were as adept at this as you?"

A smile passes over Vladimir's face. "They have their strengths. Mark is our tech expert, and Abram is our strategist. I’m the chameleon."

“Chameleon, huh?” I find my heart tugging to learn more.

“I was young,” he admits, “when I learned to observe more than I speak. The more you observe, the more people confuse you to be their friend.”

I find myself absorbed in Vladimir's words, a side of him I never expected to see. It's strange to think of this man, with all his intensity and aloofness, as someone who used to lurk in shadows, transforming himself into whoever the situation demanded. There's a vulnerability in the way he speaks about himself, giving me a glimpse into his strengths, which, in the wrong hands, can become a weakness.

He trusts me, and that makes me feel weirdly warm and fuzzy. Afraid I might slip up in a moment of weakness and let him see me soft, I gesture to the array of supplies. "So, are you going to teach me or just reminisce all day?"

“Straight to business, always, aren’t you?” he says gruffly, and motions at me to join him in front of the mirror.

We work in companionable silence for a while, Vladimir guiding my hands as I attempt my own disguise. His touch is firm but gentle, and I find myself relaxing in the unexpectedcamaraderie. At last, I look at my reflection, unable to recognize myself.

"Not bad," I admit, my usual icy tone softening slightly. "I suppose you do know what you're doing."

Vladimir's eyes meet mine in the mirror, a hint of amusement in their depths. "High praise indeed, coming from you."

I roll my eyes, but there's no real bite to it. "Don't let it go to your head. I still think this whole arrangement is ridiculous."

He turns to face me, now looking like a weathered old man. "And yet, here you are."

"Here I am," I agree quietly, surprising myself with the lack of hostility in my voice.

We clean and pack up in silence. “Thank you,” I say, at last, acknowledging what must be acknowledged. After all, he has given me his precious time, all to let me run things the way I want. It’s more than anyone’s ever done for me before.

I’m about to bid goodbye when Vladimir's expression grows serious. He clears his throat. "Sofia, there's something we need to discuss."

I tense immediately, guard rising. "What is it?"

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