Page 34 of Imperfect Desires

I inhale slowly, savoring the burn of tobacco, then exhale smoothly toward the cracked window, my lips curling upward into a lazy smile. "I promise I won’t linger for tea then.”

He mutters something under his breath, but I’m already stepping out into the cool night air, stretching casually. This isn’t his call—it’s mine. A message needs to be sent, loud and clear. I cross the street, deliberately slow, savoring the anticipation.

Inside the warehouse, the air smells of rust and stale cigarettes. Roman sits behind a battered metal table, flanked by two burly guards who tense at my approach. Roman’s sneer curls up as he meets my gaze.

“Viktor sent his little shadow?” he scoffs, leaning forward arrogantly. “You don't scare me.”

I tilt my head, amused. “Funny, I'm not here to scare you. I'm here to have a conversation."

His confidence flickers as I sit across from him, placing my gun on the table with exaggerated care. Roman’s eyes dart to the weapon and back to me. “You won’t shoot me. Viktor wouldn’t—”

My smile turns sharp. Dangerous. “Who said anything about shooting?”

I rise slowly, pulling a blade from my pocket. Roman’s bodyguards stiffen, hands reaching toward their jackets.

I wink at them, almost friendly. “Relax, gentlemen. This is just a conversation.”

Circling behind Roman, I press the cold tip of my knife gently against the base of his neck. He freezes, breath hitching audibly.

“See, Roman, here’s your mistake,” I murmur softly into his ear, enjoying his trembling beneath the blade. “You stole from Viktor—which means you stole from the Bratva, and that also means you stole from me. And I really don’t appreciate people touching my shit.”

“It was a misunderstanding—” Roman stammers desperately.

My laughter is smooth, easy, but edged with ice. “Even misunderstandings have consequences.”

Roman jolts upward, desperate to escape, but I slam his head against the table, pinning him effortlessly. “Did you honestly think you could fuck with us?”

A guard lunges forward, but my pistol’s already in my hand, firing a clean shot straight through his kneecap without so much as a glance. His screams echo off the walls, and I chuckle softly, shaking my head in mock regret.

“Oops.” I lean close to Roman’s pale, sweaty face. “Now I’m just having fun.”

Before he can respond, I drive the blade through his hand, pinning it to the table. His scream is raw, and music to my ears. Straightening up, I leave the knife lodged there, patting his cheek gently.

“You’re lucky Viktor sent me,” I whisper lightly. “Don’t make him come for you himself.”

Stepping over the writhing guard on my way out, I emerge back into the night, savoring the lingering adrenaline rush. Zasha waits by the SUV, jaw tight, arms folded.

“What the hell was that?”

“A conversation,” I reply smoothly, climbing back inside and sliding the gun into its holster.

“You were supposed to keep it quiet,” Zasha growls.

“It was quiet,” I counter. “For me.”

I lean back, shutting my eyes as the SUV pulls away, adrenaline still humming in my veins. But it’s not the business I just took care of that I’m thinking about—it’s her. Alina. Consuming me from inside out. My hands are steady, but my heart pounds painfully. I know I shouldn’t want her. But damn it, I do. Even in the middle of a job, I keep seeing her come apart in my arms. Her essence is lodged in my memory like a fatal bullet.

Viktor’s voice carries through the half-open door just before Zasha and I step in.

He’s sitting at his desk, sleeves rolled up, a steaming mug of black coffee in hand. Alina is across from him, her legs crossed, a thick folder balanced on her knee. Her head is bent, dark hair falling like a curtain as she pores over the contents. She doesn’t look up when we enter, but I feel her tense. She always does when I’m nearby.

“Lev. Zasha.” Viktor nods toward the seats in front of his desk. “Glad you’re here.”

Zasha and I sit. Viktor looks tired but sharp as ever. The only sign he’s been pulling double shifts is the loosened collar at his throat.

He glances at me. “I heard you paid Roman the visit last night.”

Zasha tries not to sigh. “Tried to keep it quiet. But you know Lev.”

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