Page 43 of Bratva's Intern

“I am fine standing, Vova. Keep working.”

As Vova worked, massaging my scalp with surprising gentleness, he and Maxim spoke over me. I strained to listen, catching only snippets as I fought to stay awake. His hands really were magic. All the tension that had settled into my shoulder blades melted away.

“You trust this one with your business?” Vova asked, his voice quieter than before.

“He is learning. He needs time.” Maxim’s reply was equally soft.

A hum of consideration from Vova. “Hmm. You always pick interesting ones.”

“This one is different.”

What did he meandifferent? They switched to Russian, and I gave up trying to understand them. After a luxurious treatment of washing, conditioning, and a warm towel wrap, Vova led me to the chair in front of the mirror. “Now, we make you look even better. Maxim, what we do with his hair?”

I straightened in my seat, still reeling from how amazing my scalp felt. “Excuse me, but it’s my hair. Shouldn’t you be asking me?”

Maxim’s lips twitched, and Vova barked out a laugh. “I like this one! He has spunk! Maxim, you should keep him, or I'll steal him from you.”

“I’m only his intern for the summer,” I said with a chuckle. “Which doesn’t make sense why he’s going through all this trouble.”

“Yes, why go through all this trouble, Maxim?”

“Since when is it frowned upon to do an act of charity?”

I sucked in a deep breath. Was this how Maxim saw me? As a charity case he was obliged to help? Just how had his company come across my name to offer me the internship? Through the college I attended?

“I’d like it much shorter,” I said quickly. “More suitable for the office.”

“No.”

I blinked at Maxim’s waspish tone. “What do you mean, no?”

Maxim turned to Vova as if I hadn’t spoken. “Just a trim. Clean it up.”

“You can’t tell him what to do to my hair. It’s mine.”

“That energy you reserve for arguing with me is the energy I want to see in the office.” He turned his full attention to his cousin as if they weren’t talking about me. “Do exactly what I say.”

Vova nodded. “Sorry, Wren, but I listen to your boss, da?”

I straightened my spine in defiance. I didn’t have to sit and take this. I could walk out, show Maxim he paid me a salary but that he wasn’t the boss of how I dressed and how I wore my hair.

Who the hell was I kidding? I wasn’t going anywhere.

I slumped in the chair, and Vova went to work on my hair. He was nimble and swift, clipping the ends with focused precision. His every move was dictated by Maxim, who watched from behind with an eagle’s gaze.

Vova finished with a light spritz of some sweet-smelling product, giving my hair one last sweeping look, then stepping back. “There we go. All done!”

He turned my chair toward the mirror, and I surveyed my reflection. I barely recognized myself. My hair shone under the salon lights, smooth and healthier than I’d ever seen it. The loose curls framed my face perfectly, making me look… and feel expensive.

Dammit, Maxim was right not to have Vova cut it. My hair looked amazing.

Maxim studied my new appearance, and a flicker of approval crossed his stern face before it quickly dissolved back into his usual mask of indifference.

“It looks amazing, Vova.” I brushed my fingers through the soft waves. I couldn’t resist shooting Maxim a glance. “Happy? Do I look pretty enough now?”

He grunted and turned back to Vova, murmuring a few words in Russian. The men clasped each other’s hands, their grip on each other causing a deep longing inside me. A longing for family and blood ties.

Jess was the only one I had left.

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