Page 50 of Bratva's Intern

I scrambled to my feet, nearly knocking over my chair. “On it!” I called, already halfway to the breakroom.

I’d prepared something different this morning. Not coffee. Something better. He would probably throw it in my face, but at least it wasn’t hot coffee. At worst, I would get a chill.

His drink sat in the fridge. A tall, sleek bottle of iced hibiscus tea with lemon and ginger. Tart. Refreshing. Healthy. I’d read about its benefits late last night. It reduced blood pressure and was good for the heart. Something about taking care of him felt… important.

And coffee left him too wired.

I grabbed the bottle, wiped the condensation from the sides with a napkin, and brought it to his office, knocking lightly before stepping inside.

Maxim didn’t look up from his computer.

I placed the drink carefully in front of him. “Thought you could use something a bit different today.”

He stared at the bottle like I’d just handed him rat poison. “What the hell is this?”

“Hibiscus tea. With lemon and ginger. It’s good for the heart.”

His jaw tensed. “I didn’t ask for this.”

“I know. I made an executive decision. You told me I could make those when you weren’t around, so I did.”

He finally looked up at me. “I drink the same thing every day. Why would you change that?”

His voice was ice. I stood my ground, swallowing the tightness in my throat.

“I just thought—” Nope. I wasn’t going to apologize. “It’s good for you. Better. Healthier. Before you knock it, at least give it a go.”

We stared at each other. The silence stretched. I hated that he could make me feel so small with just a look. But even more, I hated the confusion buzzing under my skin.

Because the last time we were this close, I’d ended up on his lap.

His hands on my hips. The hard press of his erection beneath me. His breath hot against my neck.

At the time, I’d thought maybe…

But looking at him now, all scowl and distance, I didn’t know what the hell to think. Had I imagined it? Did I just want it to mean something it didn’t?

And then there was that damn folder. The one on his computer labeled like it was nothing, just another work document, but filled with picture after picture of beautiful boys.So manyof them. All prettier than me. Sleek, polished,wanted.

I didn’t know why that stung the way it did. But it did.

I bet he never snaps at them.

“You’d do well to stay away from Bradley,” Maxim said, his voice dropping low.

I blinked at the change in topic. He hadn’t taken a sip ofthe drink, but at least he didn’t berate me again for not bringing his usual coffee. “What?”

“You heard me.” He leaned back, his fingers steepled under his chin. “If you know what’s good for you, keep your distance.”

“He was just helping me to figure out something.”

“If you need his help as often as he’s been stopping by your desk, then maybe you were right and you’re not quite suitable for the job.”

So much for his confidence growing in me. My cheeks heated up and, with it, a bit of defiance. “Do you want me to quit?”

“No, I want you to stay away from Bradley. Don’t let me see him at your desk again, Wren.”

“That’s absurd. He’s a coworker.”

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