"I didn't expect the Bratva's tech queen to be quite so... captivating," Lorenzo's voice dripped with irony as he observed Galina, who was absorbed in deciphering a web of encrypted data.
Galina's gaze remained fixed on her screens, her expression a...
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As I step into the Pakhan's meeting room, my attire makes a statement. The crisp, white dress shirt clings to my torso, neatly tucked into tight leather pants that hug my form. My dark brown leather boots, reaching just below my knees, lend an air of confidence and sophistication. The polished sheen of the boots catches the light with each step, adding a subtle but undeniable elegance to my look.
The room itself is a reflection of the Bratva's power and influence-a space where shadows and light play across dark, polished wood and heavy leather. The table, a grand piece of furniture that dominates the room, is designed to assert authority. It features five imposing seats arranged with one central position flanked by two pairs across from each other. The ambiance is one of stark efficiency, with only the soft glow of strategically placed lamps breaking the otherwise dim illumination.
As I approach, my entrance disrupts the low murmur of conversation between two familiar figures. Damian and Mikhail, stalwarts of the organization, look up from their seats. Their expressions, initially stern, soften into rare, approving smiles that suggest a genuine warmth-a small but significant gesture in a world where emotions are often kept at bay.
"Good evening, boys," I greet them with a bright smile, my voice ringing with a casual ease that contrasts with the formality of the surroundings. I move to my designated seat directly across from Damian and to the left of the Pakhan's central chair. The chair is situated at the heart of the table, a symbol of the Pakhan's central role in our deliberations.
As I settle into my seat, I cast a glance around the room, noting the anticipation that seems to hang in the air. "Where's Viktor?" I ask, my tone laced with curiosity.
Damian's response is as sharp as ever, but there's a trace of familiarity in his voice now. "I'm surprised you even asked, knowing and working with us for four years."
I frown slightly, my unease evident. "I thought maybe he would be here considering he had work just a few blocks away."
Mikhail, always the epitome of calm, offers his insight with a nonchalant air. "He'll come along soon. Viktor has a penchant for making us wait-almost as if it's his way of showing affection. And just a reminder: don't take his twisted sweet nothings for granted."
I nod in agreement, though the tone of his words does little to fully alleviate the curiosity I feel. The way the two men look at me, with their intense gazes and inscrutable expressions, is something I'm still adapting to. It's a mix of respect and something more complex, and despite my familiarity with them, it still takes some getting used to.
We sit in a silence that is both expectant and heavy, the quiet only broken by the occasional shuffle of papers or the soft creak of leather. The atmosphere in the room is charged, as if the air itself is waiting for the arrival of the Bear-sized man and the Pakhan.
A few moments later, the room's atmosphere shifts as Viktor strides in with the confident swagger of someone who knows he's the center of attention. Clutched in his hand is a file, a casual accessory to his otherwise impeccable appearance. His entrance is marked by a twisted grin that plays across his striking features.
