Claimed By The Biker Kings

Svetlana's POV "You are not embarrassing me at that engagement, do you understand?" My father’s voice stays in my head long after the call ends, repeating itself like it refuses to leave. It has been almost ten minutes, but it still sounds like he is right next to me, speaking in that same controlled, sharp tone that always makes my chest feel tight. I sit at my desk, staring at my computer screen, but I am not actually seeing anything on it. The words in front of me blur together, and no matter how hard I try to focus, my mind keeps drifting back to the call. My fingers rest on the keyboard without moving, and after a while, I let out a slow breath and lean back in my chair. "I wasn’t planning to embarrass you," I had told him, trying to keep my voice steady. "You never plan anything," he replied without hesitation. "That is your problem." That is how he talks to me. Not like a father speaking to his daughter, but like someone dealing with a responsibility he never wanted. Like I am something he has to manage carefully so I do not cause problems for him. I press my lips together and shake my head slightly, trying to push his voice out of my thoughts. I do not want to think about him today. I really do not. Not when things are finally starting to look good for me, and not when I am only two days away from getting engaged. I sit up straight again and force myself to look at the email in front of me. I try to read it properly this time, but I end up going over the same sentence again and again without understanding a single word. "You are doing it again." I blink and look up. My boss is standing in front of my desk, watching me closely with a knowing expression on her face. "Doing what?" I ask, even though I already have a feeling she knows exactly what is wrong. "Thinking too much," she says simply. "And pretending you are working when you are clearly not." I let out a small, tired laugh. "I am working." She raises one eyebrow, clearly not convinced. "You have been staring at that screen for at least five minutes without typing anything." I sigh and drop my shoulders, giving up on pretending. "Okay, maybe I am not working." She walks around my desk and leans against it, folding her arms as she looks at me more seriously now. "Talk to me," she says. "What is going on in that head of yours?" I hesitate for a moment. She does not rush me. She never does. She just stands there and waits, giving me the space to speak when I am ready. That is one of the reasons I trust her. She is my boss, but she is also the closest thing I have to a real friend. Over the years, she has become the one person I can actually talk to without feeling like I have to hold something back. "I just got off the phone with my father," I say quietly. Her expression changes immediately, and I can see the annoyance flash across her face. "That man," she mutters under her breath. "What did he say this time?" I shrug, trying to make it seem like it does not matter as much as it actually does. "The usual," I say. "He wants everything to be perfect at the engagement." "And by perfect, he means controlled and organized exactly the way he wants it," she says. I nod slowly. She exhales, shaking her head slightly, and then straightens up. "Which is exactly why you should not be here right now," she says. I frown. "What do you mean?" "You are getting engaged tomorrow days," she says, looking at me like I have forgotten something obvious. "Why are you sitting here stressing over emails when you should be at home preparing for one of the biggest moments of your life?" "I am fine," I say quickly. "I just wanted to keep busy." She looks at me in a way that makes it clear she does not believe that for a second. "Keeping busy is not the same thing as being okay," she says gently. I do not answer her this time. Because she is right. I am not okay. I have just gotten very good at acting like I am. She softens a little and places her hand lightly on my desk, her voice becoming calmer. "You deserve to be happy about this," she says. "This is supposed to be a good thing." I nod slowly. "It is a good thing," I say. And I mean it. I really do. My boyfriend is good to me, and he has always been good to me in a way that still surprises me sometimes. He takes care of me, and he makes me feel safe, and that is something I have never taken for granted. He saved me. That is not something I say lightly. She studies my face for a moment longer, as if she is trying to see whether I truly believe what I am saying, and then she sighs. "Go home," she says. I blink in surprise and look up at her. "What?" "Go home," she repeats firmly. "Right now." "I still have work to finish—" "No, you do not," she cuts in, her tone leaving no room for argument. "You have a life, and that life is about to change in two days. So go home and prepare for it properly." I hesitate for a moment, unsure whether to argue or just listen to her. She leans closer slightly, lowering her voice in a way that feels more personal. "Do not make me drag you out of here myself," she says. That makes me smile despite everything. "You are very bossy," I say. "I am your boss," she replies without missing a beat. I shake my head, but I stand up anyway, knowing she is not going to let this go. "Fine," I say. "I am going." "Good," she says with a small nod, looking satisfied. I grab my bag and walk around my desk, adjusting it on my shoulder as I prepare to leave. As I pass her, she reaches out and gently squeezes my arm, stopping me for just a second. "If anything goes wrong," she says softly, her eyes searching mine, "call me." I pause, feeling something shift slightly in my chest at the seriousness in her voice. Then I nod. "I will," I say. “And don't forget to give your boyfriend a good hot s*x tonight” She adds and my face heats up, I almost turn to talk back but she slams the door shut in my face with a hard bang! Damn her!