Page 11 of Imperfect Desires

Alina, on the other hand, looks uncomfortable. She’s sitting upright, her hands resting lightly on her lap, her eyes lowered. Quiet. Watching everything but trying not to be seen.

Her eyes lift as I step into the room.

Our gazes catch for a split second before she looks away, her cheeks coloring faintly as they always do whenever she sees me, and I hear my inner voice scream.

HELL NO!

I recognize that blush. It’s innocent, dangerous, and unmistakable. Unease curls tightly in my gut. Viktor's sister is developing feelings for me, which is an absolute no. I force my mouth into a polite smile. I’m used to women looking at me. Usually, I don’t mind. But this feels different. And for the life of me, I hope that look doesn’t mean what I think it means. There's no way I would ever want Viktor’s sister.

“Lev. Zasha.” Viktor’s voice cuts through the quiet.

We step farther into the room. Zasha moves to the side of the table, his gaze lowered, his expression cold. He doesn’t say a word.

I lean against the edge of the doorway, arms crossed over my chest. "Am I interrupting?”

Igor’s gaze sharpens. “You’re late.”

I grin. “Early, actually.”

Zasha gives me a sideways look, but he says nothing. Typical.

Viktor’s mouth tightens faintly. “Report.”

“Some scoundrels have been pushing onto our routes,” I say. “We caught one of their men at the docks last night.”

Igor’s eyes narrow. “And?”

My smile sharpens. “He’s talking.”

Zasha’s gaze darkens. “He won’t last long.”

“We don’t need him to last long,” I reply. “Just long enough to get the information.”

Igor’s gaze flicks toward Viktor. “And how do you plan to handle it?”

“Swiftly,” Viktor says.

I hum thoughtfully. “Zasha’s thinking clean. I’m thinking messy.”

Zasha’s mouth tightens.

“Messy sends a message,” I add.

Zasha’s voice is quiet. “Clean sends a stronger one.”

“Guess that’s why I’m the creative one.”

Zasha doesn’t take the bait. He just stares at me with that cold, dead expression of his.

Igor’s gaze sharpens, and he smiles as he turns to Viktor. “You’re building a presence here.”

Viktor’s mouth curves faintly. “Yes.”

“And the Colombians?” Igor asks.

“They’ve learned that we will stay in our lane if they stay in theirs.” Viktor’s tone is calm and controlled.

Igor nods slowly. “Good.” His gaze shifts toward Yelena and Alina. “We’ll be returning to Moscow this weekend.”

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