Page 6 of Plus-Size Bratva Bride

I turned on my heel, my skirt swishing around my thighs as I strode away. My cheeks burned with a mix of anger and embarrassment. This wasn't the first time Abrahim had undermined me, and I doubted it would be the last.

Later, I stood in a quiet corner of the casino floor, sipping water and observing the bustling room. My eyes were drawn, as if magnetically, to a certain dark-haired figure making his way through the crowd.

Abrahim moved with easy confidence, his tailored suit accentuating his broad shoulders. He stopped to chat with a group of women at the bar, flashing that trademark grin of his. One of them—a statuesque blonde—laughed at something he said, touching his arm flirtatiously.

I rolled my eyes so hard I nearly strained something. Of course the women were fawning over him. With his chiseled features and bad-boy charm, Abrahim Ustinov was catnip to half the female population of Chicago.

"Need anything, Pippa?" a passing waitress asked me.

I tore my gaze away from the nauseating display at the bar. "No, thanks, Jess. I'm good."

As Jess walked away, I caught sight of Abrahim again. This time, he was leaning close to whisper something into a brunette’s ear. She giggled, batting her eyelashes.

I took an angry swig of water, nearly choking as it went down the wrong pipe. What was wrong with me? Why did watching his flirtations bother me so much?

It wasn't like I was interested in him. The man was infuriating—arrogant, cocky, and apparently determined to make my job harder at every turn. So what if he was unfairly attractive? I had more important things to focus on than Abrahim Ustinov and his womanizing ways.

Squaring my shoulders, I headed back toward my office. I had work to do, dammit, and I wasn't about to let Abrahim distract me any further.

***

The next morning, as I rounded a corner, I overheard Abrahim's deep voice. "Great job with those new slot machines, Marissa. You're really nailing it."

I froze, my heart sinking. Marissa beamed at the praise, practically glowing. "Thanks, Mr. Ustinov! I'm so glad you like the setup."

I ducked behind a pillar, my cheeks burning. Why couldn't he ever say anything like that to me? It was always criticism, always pointing out what I could do better. I smoothed my blouse self-consciously, acutely aware of how it clung to my curves. Maybe if I looked more like Marissa—tall, willowy, perfect—he'd treat me differently.

No. I shook my head, banishing the thought. I refused to let Abrahim’s opinions dictate my self-worth. I was damn good at my job, and I didn't need his approval.

With renewed determination, I strode toward my office, focusing on the tasks ahead. I had reports to finish and a security upgrade to plan. Abrahim Ustinov and his infuriating charm could go to hell.

I'd barely settled at my desk when I sensed a presence in my doorway. My fingers froze over the keyboard as I caught a whiff of expensive cologne. Dammit. I kept my eyes glued to the screen, pretending to be engrossed in an email.

"Pippa." Abrahim's voice was smooth as silk. "Got a minute?"

I bit back a groan. So much for ignoring him.

I swiveled in my chair, plastering on a polite smile. "What can I do for you?"

He sauntered in, his blue-gray eyes gleaming with amusement. "I was looking over the security plans for the VIP lounge. Have you considered adding biometric scanners?"

My jaw clenched. Of course he hadmoreopinions on my work. "We've discussed it, but the cost-benefit analysis didn't justify the expense."

He waved a hand dismissively. "Money's no object when it comes to security. Trust me, it'll be worth it."

I bit my tongue, reminding myself to stay professional. "I appreciate your input, but I assure you, we've thoroughly evaluated all options."

Abrahim leaned against my desk, his tattooed forearms on full display as he crossed them over his chest. "Come on, Pippa. You know I have experience with this stuff. Why not hear me out?"

My heart raced, a mix of irritation and something else I refused to acknowledge. His cologne enveloped me, making it hard to concentrate. I took a deep breath, trying to ignore how his presence seemed to fill the entire room.

"Abrahim," I began, proud of how steady my voice sounded. "While I value your opinion, this is my department. I've been entrusted with these decisions for a reason."

He smirked, and I felt my composure slipping. "Stubborn as always, aren't you? It's almost admirable."

I gripped the arms of my chair, fighting the urge to snap at him. Why did he have to be so infuriatingly arrogant? And why did part of me find it so damn attractive?

His smirk widened as he leaned closer, his blue-gray eyes glinting with amusement. "You know, Sweetheart, sometimesit's okay to admit when someone else might know better. No need to get your panties in a twist."

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