Page 100 of Bratva's Intern

I don’t want Maxim to look at anyone else the way he looks at me.

Maybe getting my guts rearranged wouldn’t be so bad after all.

“Fine, let’s go shopping.”

“Great. Nik, sweetie, take us to that boutique on HalstonStreet. We’re going to make Wren the best present Maxim has ever unwrapped.”

“Yes, ma’am.”

I slumped back, my face burning all the way down to my chest.

God help me.

Tonight was going to bea lot.

CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVE

MAXIM

Ialmost hit Archie.

That was the first thought I had as I stepped into the house and locked the door behind me, shutting out the world. The click echoed in the silence.

I’d never raised a hand to him. Not even when he was being sassy and deserved it. It was my fault for giving him too much power.

This evening when Calloway tricked us by sending a hitman to do his dirty work instead of coughing up my crypto wallets, Archie had lost it. Not because we didn’t get the millions, but because instead of retaliating, I’d decided to return home.

He’d accused me of throwing away our business for aboy toy, and I’d come within seconds of losing control. Of reminding him he worked for me. He had no business questioning my decisions. No business looking down his nose at Wren.

The mess in Chicago was Archie’s doing. He didn’t needme to clean it up personally, not when I’d provided resources and manpower for him to bring Chicago to its knees.

What the hell did I pay him for?

Sure as hell not for his unsolicited opinion about my sex life.

“You left unfinished business for a fling, Maxim. You’re getting soft. Sloppy.”

I’d summoned every ounce of restraint not to drive my fist into his face. Not because I didn’t want to but because it would’ve proven him right.

I wasnotsloppy. I’d tied up what I could. I stuck around for far longer than I’d meant to. Darius had even stayed behind to ensure everything ran smoothly in my absence. But I had to get out before things got bloodier. A bullet with my name on it had grazed me. The magnitude of my reprisal would lead to fingers pointing at me if I was still in Chicago when everything crashed and burned.

And I’d needed to return simply because I promised Wren I’d be home tonight.

I dropped my bag by the door and shrugged off my coat, wincing as my arm throbbed.

The house felt… too still. Too quiet.

I knew he was still there because I’d checked the security footage during my flight. Nik had dropped him off around six, and he hadn’t left since.

I walked to the kitchen, the overhead lights low and golden. I opened the fridge to grab some water. What the…?

Inside, dishes were stacked neatly on the shelves. Covered trays. Labeled containers. Bowls of salad, something that looked like pasta, and cake. All made up for tonight.

Fuck.

I closed the fridge and twisted the cap off a bottle of water, heart suddenly heavier than it had been when I’d boarded the jet.

When I turned toward the dining room, the rest of the story revealed itself.

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