Obsessive Boss (Bratva Brothers 4)

SEVEN

Savannah

"Nothing, I mean—"

Oh shit, I am fucked.

I don't have a reasonable excuse for why I was snooping through his office, examining the ledger for evidence.

He slams the door behind himself, and I swear the room shakes. The few pictures on the walls rattle, and it's not from the music pulsating through the club.

"It's not what you think," I say and exhale a calm breath. I need him to believe I'm not betraying him because he'll kill me if he learns the truth.

"Tell me what it is I think," Anton says, and he steps closer, within my grasp. He towers above me and glances briefly to confirm his suspicions that I was examining the ledger.

And it's not just any ledger. It's the one that ties him to money laundering hundreds of thousands through the club. A club of this magnitude, even in New York City, isn't bringing in a solid six figures a week.

Or maybe they are, but they're doing it legally.

Club Sage is dirty, and I can take Anton down.

But my stomach knots at the thought of him discovering who I am and my betrayal. It won't be easy, but I never expected it.

"Remember when I told you I went to college for accounting?"

"Where you dropped out in your first year."

Damn, he remembers. Whoever said that men don't listen? Why couldn't Anton have been one of those men?

"I have a thing for numbers. I like looking at them, examining them, and trying to make sense of them. It's like one of my kinks," I say and wrinkle my nose like I'm telling him a secret.

Anton's face doesn't flinch. There's no smile. "You have a kink for numbers?"

I'm not sure that he believes me.

Hell, I barely believe it myself.

"Spreadsheets, ledgers, they all get me riled up," I say, trying to alleviate his suspicions. "And there's a lot of wealthy men out there tonight. I was trying to get in the mood, and when you weren't in your office—"

"Which you broke into, I might add."

"That's not true." I hold up the key. "You gave me a spare key a couple of nights ago so that I could grab your overnight bag while you handled something downstairs."

He nods briskly, seeming to believe my lie.

"I'm glad I found you. Nikita informed me that we have a group of special guests, VIPs, coming to the club this evening. I want you on hand to make them feel right at home." Anton glances at his watch. "They should be here shortly."

I smile, unsure who he wants me to entertain. "Of course," I say. "I'll be right out."

He waits by the door, and I close the ledger, pretending not to be as interested in the contents as I truly am. It's not as though I have my phone on me. There's nowhere to hide it in my outfit to snap pictures for the FBI.

But at least glancing at it gave me some intel.

If only I hadn't gotten caught.

Anton brushes past me, opens his desk drawer, and shoves the ledger inside rather abruptly. He holds out his hand for his spare key, snatching it from my grip. "I didn't intend for you to keep it forever," he remarks.

"Right, sorry about that," I say quickly to apologize, not that I mean it. But he doesn't have to know that I'm not sincere.

He locks the drawer and secures the key onto his keyring with the others. Stalking toward the door, he opens it for me, gesturing for me to step out into the darkened hallway.

I exhale a nervous breath. He hasn't shown any indication that he's aware of my betrayal. Maybe I've dodged a bullet this round, but I must be more careful. I can't afford to get caught twice.

Anton laughs under his breath. "Looks like Mikhail is joining us with the ladies," he says.

Mikhail.

He's the head of the Pakhan, the man I'd love to take down and have that accomplishment to boast, but he's also entangled with Madisyn, and they've got a kid together.

Madisyn Carter was previously undercover with the Russian Bratva as Madisyn Taylor. I don't know whether she married Mikhail or not. I haven't been in touch with her since she left the bureau.

But she's the one person who can recognize me and ruin the operation.

We'd been staking the club for months leading up to the undercover operation, and she hadn't come anywhere near the place.

I glimpse her in a gold and black dress, hugging her curves. I'd never known her to wear dresses, maybe a black skirt with her blazer, but she'd always been in FBI attire when I'd seen her. On occasion, back in her bureau days, we'd grab drinks and share a win after a case.

But she has the power to destroy everything and get me killed.

I pull away from Anton. "I have to use the restroom," I say, quick to excuse myself from his grasp as I bolt toward the single-stall restroom and slam the door shut.

I ignore Anton's peculiar glare as I sneak away and leave him on his own.

He says something in response, but it's muffled over the loud music and the thick wooden bathroom door that's shut.

I breathe a sigh of relief.

But I can't hide in here forever or even the entire night. I could fake being sick or, worse, make myself vomit. There's liquid hand soap I could ingest, but that doesn't seem the best course of action.

I just need to avoid Madisyn.

It was always possible that she could show up at the club, but Anton is low level compared to Mikhail. Finding dirt on the Pakhan would make me a legend at the bureau—and a traitor to Madisyn. But she burned that bridge when she got knocked up by Mikhail.

I grimace.

The same could easily happen to me. I've been screwing Anton practically every night, and while I'm on the pill and he's been using a condom, I don't want to think about the implications if I were to get pregnant.

But I'm not Madisyn.

I wouldn't stick around. Anton isn't a good guy. He's not the type of man I want to raise my child.

And that's where we differ.