Page 66 of An Arranged Virgin for the Bratva

“Some machinery malfunctioned. A few men are hurt, and the morale is low. People are afraid to work.”

“Oh no.” She clutches her heart, worry crossing her eyes. “Are the men alright?”

"I’m not sure. It seems we have a busy night ahead of us. Abram’s out of town, but I should gather Denis and Mark immediately." I pause, considering my next words carefully. "You should return to the mansion. It'll be late—"

"I'm coming with you," Sofia interrupts, her green eyes flashing with determination. The icy mask she often wears slips into place, but there's a fire behind it now.

"Sofia," I begin, ready to argue, but she cuts me off again.

"No, Vlad. If I'm to be your wife, I need to understand every aspect of this life. Including the troubles we might have to deal with. After all, you might not always be around." Her chin lifts defiantly, and I feel a grudging admiration for her strength.

I weigh the risks in my mind, studying her resolute expression. The smart move would be to keep her safe, away from whatever chaos awaits us. And yet…

"You're right," I concede, surprised by my own words. "But you stay close to me at all times, understood?"

A hint of triumph flickers in Sofia's eyes. "Of course, Darling," she says, her tone dripping with sarcasm. "I wouldn't dream of wandering off in a potentially explosive situation."

I can't help but chuckle despite the gravity of the situation. "Your enthusiasm for danger is concerning, Crimson."

Sofia's lips quirk into a small smile. "One of us has to keep things interesting."

As we speed toward the factory, I find myself grateful for her presence. Sofia Orlov may be a complication in my life, but she's quickly becoming one I can't imagine being without.

***

We reach the factory and exit the car. Her face is a mask of cool determination, but I catch the slight tremble in her hands as she smooths her dress.

"First time at a crisis scene?" I ask, my voice gruff.

Sofia's green eyes flick to me, a hint of defiance in them. "I've handled my share of family emergencies, Vlad. This is just… a different scale."

I nod, impressed by her composure. "Stay close when we enter. Things might be chaotic."

"I'm not a child," she retorts swiftly.

When we walk in through the doors, the scene that greets us is one of chaos. Two men lie on the floor, clutching their injured hands, blood pooling around them. Workers in various stages of panic and distress mill around while the foreman tries to maintain some semblance of order. The screeching of machinery adds to the cacophony, creating an atmosphere of urgency and tension.

Sofia’s eyes widen at the sight, her initial composure wavering for a moment before she squares her shoulders. I see her take a deep breath, steeling herself for what lies ahead.

“Vlad, we need to help them,” she says firmly. Before I can tell her another word, she screams at the foreman. “Call the ambulance!”

I watch, impressed, as Sofia takes charge in a surprising display of leadership. Her voice cuts through the chaos like a knife as she directs workers to give the injured men some space. She asks if anyone has any experience with first aid treatment.

A man raises his hand.

“Come with me.” She curls her finger at him and rushes toward the injured men. She quickly assesses their injuries, her hands gentle but sure as she starts first aid under the guidance of the helper.

As she works, her focus is unwavering, and her movements are efficient and practiced. The injured men begin to calm under her care, their pained cries turning into soft murmurs of gratitude. The workers around us start to relax as well, reassured by Sofia's steady presence.

I move closer to Sofia, standing beside her as she finishes bandaging one of the men's hands. She looks up at me fiercely. “He doesn’t have insurance,” she tells me.

“Don’t worry,” I say, without skipping a beat. “We’ll cover it.”

She nods in gratitude and reaffirms the employee, who sighs with relief.

"Nikita!" I bark, spotting my foreman and walking in his direction. Sofia’s handling the injured men. Because of her help, I can focus on what happened here tonight. "Report."

The stocky man hurries over to meet me halfway, sweat beading on his brow. "Boss, the polishing and faceting machine malfunctioned. The automatic safety lever didn’t go off, and the machine wasn’t secured well.”

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