Page 24 of An Arranged Virgin for the Bratva

While all I want is to get close to her, it’s going to be impossible if she keeps me at arm’s length. Her deal comes backto mind. If I let her proceed as per her plan, she’d give me anything in return.

What if I asked to be involved in every step? What if I made her promise to come to me at the first sign of trouble? Could that help us get closer?

Or am I sending her into the viper’s nest all because I want to get closer to her?

"Damn it," I mutter under my breath, striding toward my office. I need to give her an answer, and I need to do it now—before she moves from dismissing me to ignoring me entirely.

Once inside, I shut the door firmly behind me and head straight for my computer. My fingers fly over the keyboard as I delve into the murky world of street gangs. The gangsters Sofia mentioned—I need to know everything about them.

Hours pass as I sift through information, cross-referencing names and dates. My eyes sting from staring at the screen, but I push on. Finally, a picture emerges.

The Crimson Crew isn't just some small-time thugs—they're players with connections that run deep. And they're gunning for the Orlovs.

My eyes narrow as I piece together the implications. These gangsters aren't just after money or influence—they want territory. Orlov territory. Fights over running the streets? They’re the worst kind. And Sofia's walking right into their crosshairs.

"Damn it," I growl, slamming my fist on the desk. The urge to protect her surges through me, primal and fierce. But I can't just lock her away. She'd never forgive me, and worse, I'd lose any chance of earning her trust.

I lean back, fingers steepled under my chin. "Think, Vladimir. There has to be a way."

The risks of letting her continue are high, but the potential payoff… If she succeeds, it could cripple our enemies and strengthen both our positions.

And if I support her, maybe she'll finally see me as an ally, not just another obstacle.

My head pounds from the endless circling of thoughts. I need coffee.

The rich aroma hits me as soon as I enter the kitchen, momentarily grounding me. I inhale deeply, feeling some of the tension leave my shoulders.

As I pour the steaming liquid into my mug, the familiar routine gives me a moment of clarity. I can't stop Sofia, but I can prepare. Gather intel, set up contingencies, and be ready to step in if things go south.

I take a sip, the bitter warmth spreading through me. It's a risk, but one worth taking. For Sofia. For us.

I turn, coffee in hand, and there she is. Sofia glides into the kitchen, her pin-straight blonde hair cascading over her shoulders like liquid gold. Her green eyes flick to me, then away, dismissive as ever. The chill in her gaze could freeze hell itself.

"Good afternoon, Sofia," I say, my voice gruff from not having spoken for a while.

She barely acknowledges me with a curt nod, reaching for her own mug. The silence stretches between us, taut as a wire.

Little does she know, I’ve reached my decision.

Chapter 10 - Sofia

My steps falter as I stride into the kitchen, frustration simmering beneath my skin. There he is, Vladimir Zolotov, the bane of my existence, casually leaning against the counter as if he’s got nothing to worry about. His broad shoulders fill out his crisp white shirt, and he sips his coffee with infuriating nonchalance. My jaw clenches. How dare he act so calm, given he’s keeping me hanging for an answer?

I force myself to move, each step deliberate as I approach the coffee pot. The rich aroma fills my nostrils, but it does little to soothe my frayed nerves. My hands tremble slightly as I pour, and I silently curse my body's betrayal. I won't give him the satisfaction of seeing how he affects me.

The silence stretches between us, thick and oppressive. I can feel his dark eyes on me, observing, always observing. It makes my skin prickle, and I resist the urge to fidget with my hair or smooth down my blouse.

Just as I'm about to retreat with my coffee, his deep voice cuts through the quiet. "Good afternoon, Sofia."

I freeze, my back still turned to him. My mind races, debating whether to acknowledge him or maintain my icy facade. In the end, I opt for cool indifference, taking a sip of my coffee before turning to face him.

"Is it?" I reply, my tone dripping with sarcasm. "I hadn't noticed."

He smiles, catching me off guard.

"I've made a decision," he states, his voice low and steady.

Despite my best efforts, curiosity piques within me. I raise an eyebrow, silently prompting him to continue. My heart, traitor that it is, begins to quicken its pace.

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