Page 41 of Bratva's Vow
Damn, she remembered me from one visit?
“That’s me. You remember all your clients by name?”
She chuckled. “Well, Mr. Morozov is an important man.”
Ah, the engraving.
“Come this way, please.”
She led me toward the back to a long class showcase and retrieved a matte black box. “Here you go. We took extra care with the engraving.”
“Thank you.” I took the box from her and flipped it open. The air punched out of my lungs.
The bracelet was sleek, brushed titanium with a matte finish, subtle in design but quietly luxurious. No medical symbol stamped on top, no flashy red text. Just a simple, masculine band that wouldn’t look out of place next to Maxim’s Rolex. I turned it over and ran a thumb across the engraving. It was perfect.
My chest squeezed a little. It wasn’t flashy or romantic, but it was real. Practical. A tiny piece of peace of mind. Something he could wear without feeling exposed. Because I knew Maxim hated the idea of fragility. And maybe he didn’t like talking about his epilepsy, but if something ever happened and I wasn’t there, this might help someone help him.
And that thought helped me too.
“It’s perfect.” I snapped the box shut with a quiet click.
“I’m happy you’re pleased. Anything else I can interest you in?”
Not likely. I’d already blown over a grand on the bracelet. More money than I’d ever spent on any kind of apparel or jewelry. But if not for Maxim, I wouldn’t have that kind of money to spend in the first place. Nothing was too expensive to buy for him.
Well, that I could afford anyway.
Viktor was waiting right where I left him, leaning against the hood of the SUV, arms crossed, sunglasses hiding his eyes.The second I approached, he straightened and opened the door.
“You got what you needed?”
“Yup. Thanks for the ride. I really appreciate it.”
He nodded. “Let’s get back before anyone notices.”
“Good idea.”
CHAPTER ELEVEN
WREN
Traffic was a nightmare on the way back to the office. Sirens, flashing lights, and a tangled mess of bumper-to-bumper cars turned a fifteen-minute ride into a near-hour-long crawl through gridlock hell. I sat fidgeting in the back seat of the SUV, staring at the time on the dashboard and silently begging the accident up ahead to clear faster. Viktor didn’t say much, just grunted now and then, eyes flicking constantly to his mirrors like a predator tracking shadows.
By the time we finally pulled into the parking lot, my stomach was tight with nerves. The meeting should’ve ended ten minutes ago. Maybe Maxim got held up. Maybe I could still slide in, pretend like I’d been taking a long bathroom break.
The elevator pinged open, and I stepped out, keeping my head down as I tiptoed toward my desk, praying the universe would cut me a damn break for once.
Maxim’s door yanked open like it had been waiting for me.
“Wren!” His voice cracked through the air like a gunshot. “Get in here. Now.”
I flinched, my whole body reacting before my brain could catch up. I turned, forcing a weak smile at the sight of Marjorie from accounting, who’d startled at Maxim’s bellow.
“Oops.” I half laughed. “Probably shredded the wrong file again.”
“Wren!”
Shit. On a scale of one to five on the official Morozov Rage Scale, he was for sure clocking in at a six. When I stepped inside his office, the vein in his forehead popped wildly.
