Page 69 of Bratva's Intern

Maxim inhaled sharply. “Fuck.” He reached into his jacket, removed a handkerchief, and swiped at his face. Another groan escaped him, and he pressed a hand to his temple.

I leaned in. “Do you need something? Maybe some water? I don’t have any experience with seizures, but?—”

“Stop saying it,” he gritted out.

“Oh, I’m sorry. What do you want me to call it?”

“Nothing. Just—just go away.”

I flinched. Not just because of what he said. Maxim said unkind things to me at times, but his words were cold, distant, like a steel wall slamming shut.

“Sorry. I’m trying to help.”

“No one asked for your help.”

“Mr. Morozov, we’re almost at your house,” Nik said. “Do you want me to alert the doctor?”

“No. I’m fine. And what are you doing, taking me home first? Take Wren home.”

“What? No!” I sat up straight. “You’re the one who’s sick and?—”

“I’m not fucking sick.”

“Maxim, why are you?—”

“If you don’t keep your mouth shut, Wren, I’ll fire you.”

Heat swelled inside me, his words the match that lit the fueled end of my rope. “Then fire me, but nothing’s going to change. Nik, you get him home. I don’t mind waiting.”

“Are you disobeying me?”

“Yes. What are you going to do about it?”

Redness crept into Maxim’s face as if I had slapped him. He clenched his hand into a fist, shaking slightly against his lap. A vein in his temple pounded; his jaw was set in a rigid line. And for a fleeting moment, pain flickered in his eyes,masked quickly by the hardness that had become his default setting.

“You can fire me in the morning,” I muttered, arms crossed. “I’m done talking to you when you obviously need to rest. How much longer to get to his house, Nik?”

“A few minutes.”

We rode those few minutes in silence, Maxim staring out the window and refusing to look at me. He clenched his knee so tight I worried he might crack it. Maybe I shouldn’t be concerned about him. He obviously had enough money to hire the best doctors and staff to take care of him. What did he need me for? Even my work at the office was laughable.

But the way he rubbed his temples bothered me. He was still not himself. Given how easily he’d backed down, the seizure had taken a toll on him.

Nik pulled up to a sleek, blacked-out gate. The gate swung open, revealing a softly lit, winding driveway leading up to a modern mansion—all glass and steel. Motion sensor lights flared to life, bathing the car in a gentle glow and revealing the expanse of neatly manicured lawns.

The car eased along the driveway, flanked by pine-shaped trees. Usually, Maxim waited for someone to open his door, but as soon as the car stopped, he opened the door.

I reached out. “Wait?—”

He ignored me, stepping out on his own. But the second he got to his feet, he staggered, shooting his hand out to grip the top of the car door.

“Maxim.” I climbed out behind him. “Lean on me.”

“Consider yourself fired,” he snapped.

I clenched my jaw. “Fine. Now lean on me.”

His nostrils flared, his frustration clear, but he was still too unsteady to shut me down completely.

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