His bratva princess

Untitled Episode

The silence in the sleek, minimalist hallway of Volkov Industries stretched so thin it felt like it might snap.

Milana couldn’t breathe. Her heart hammered against her ribs, a frantic, trapped bird, as her eyes locked onto the man standing just a few feet away. It was him. The man from the crash. The man from her nightmares. And right beside him stood the giant who, only moments ago, had drawn a lethal, black firearm right here in this very hallway when she accidentally overheard them.

She had only been wandering around trying to find Elena again, and that simple search had landed her in this absolute trap.

Rodion didn’t look angry; he looked utterly amused. A slow, dark smirk curved the corner of his lips—a silent acknowledgment that the universe had just handed him a very interesting hand to play. He didn’t say a word, merely tracking the frantic rise and fall of her chest, waiting. The silence grew heavy, suffocating, as if he were deliberately letting the weight of his presence crush whatever excuses she was trying to form.

But Milana’s mind was an absolute blank. The fierce defiance she had flashed at him on the asphalt yesterday had completely evaporated, replaced by a cold, paralyzing shock.

Releasing a short, impatient breath, Rodion closed the distance between them. His movements were fluid, predatory, and entirely devoid of hesitation. As he stopped just a foot away, his towering frame completely cut off the light in the corridor. He raised a broad hand and waved it directly in front of her frozen face.

"Are you there?" his deep, gravelly voice vibrated through the quiet corridor.

The proximity snapped the spell. Milana gasped, her instinct kicking in as she took a sharp, clumsy step backward, her heels clicking loudly against the polished floor. "I—I’m sorry," she stammered, her voice a fragile whisper. "I didn't mean to—"

"Are you stalking me?" Rodion interrupted, tilting his head. His piercing gaze narrowed, locking onto hers with terrifying intensity. "Because I have to wonder what exactly you would be doing here of all places."

Milana’s jaw dropped slightly. The absurdity of the accusation sparked a tiny, desperate flame of indignation through her panic. She opened her mouth, her vocal cords straining to defend herself, when the heavy doors at the end of the hall burst open.

"Milana!"

Elena hurried into the corridor, her face a mask of worry and sheer frustration. Her sharp eyes darted between Rodion, the imposing man standing next to him, and Milana’s pale face. Elena had been looking for her ever since they parted ways, and the stress of the hunt was written in the tight line of her mouth.

As soon as Elena realized who Milana was standing with, the color drained from her cheeks, and she immediately dropped into a polite, apologetic stance.

"Mr. Volkov," Elena breathed out, her tone laced with deep respect and an underlying current of anxiety. "I am so incredibly sorry. I’ve been looking for her everywhere. She was just here to drop off some documents, and she must have gotten turned around looking for the exit." Elena stepped slightly in front of Milana, trying to shield her. "I apologize to you and your associate. I promise you, this will absolutely not happen again."

Rodion didn’t acknowledge Elena’s frantic apologies. His eyes never left Milana’s face. The smirk returned, sharper this time, carrying a dangerous edge.

"So..." Rodion murmured, the syllables dragging out slowly. "Your name is Milana?"

Hearing her name on his lips sent a shiver straight down her spine. Flustered, her cheeks burning with a sudden, unwanted heat, Milana could only offer a rigid, terrified nod.

"Why so quiet all of a sudden?" he asked, taking a half-step closer, his presence completely overwhelming. "You sure had a lot to say to me yesterday."

Standing just a step behind Rodion, Lev shifted his weight. His sharp, calculating eyes traveled from Rodion to the trembling girl, a look of sudden intrigue crossing his features. "Wait," Lev intervened, his voice smoother than Rodion’s but no less intimidating. "Where exactly did you two meet?"

Rodion didn't answer his friend. Instead, he finally flicked his gaze over to the trembling HR manager. "You're dismissed," he told Elena, his tone clipped and leaving zero room for argument. "Go."

Elena hesitated for a fraction of a second, looking back at Milana with a flash of profound pity and fear, but she knew better than to cross the man who held the keys to the entire empire. "Thank you, Mr. Volkov," Elena whispered, quickly turning on her heel.

Milana watched in absolute despair as Elena’s retreating figure vanished behind the heavy doors. Her last safety net was gone. She was entirely alone in a secluded hallway with a man who looked like he could crush her throat without blinking, and his equally terrifying companion.

"Please let me go," Milana pleaded, turning back to Rodion, her hands clasping together in front of her chest. The desperation in her voice was palpable, her heart hammering violently against her ribs. "I promise I didn’t hear anything. And it’s not like I’d even say anything to anyone, anyway. I swear."

Rodion completely ignored her frantic pleas. The two men effortlessly brushed the whole thing aside, completely devoid of any suspicion toward her—her sheer, unadulterated terror made it obvious she was out of depth. Instead, his brow furrowed slightly as he studied the delicate lines of her face.

"Are you Russian?" he asked abruptly.

Milana blinked, completely thrown off by the bizarre pivot. The sheer confusion temporarily blunted her terror. "What?" she asked, giving him a deeply bewildered look. "Why would I be Russian?"

"Because your name is Russian," Rodion stated matter-of-factly, his dark eyes searching hers.

"It is not," Milana argued, her natural stubbornness leaking out before she could stop herself. "It’s purely English."

Rodion slowly turned his head to look at Lev.

Lev met Rodion's gaze, subtly raising his eyebrows as he gave Rodion a look that clearly communicated: She has absolutely no idea what she’s talking about.

"Alright then," Rodion said, turning his attention back to the fragile girl standing before him. He gestured casually toward his imposing friend. "Lev here will escort you out."

Milana’s eyes darted over to Lev, the memory of the black metal barrel he had pointed at her right here in this hallway flashing vividly in her mind.

Hell na. There was absolutely no way she was walking down a secluded hallway or getting into an elevator with him.

Steeling her nerve, she forced her lips into a tight, incredibly strained smile and took another step back. "Thank you, but that won't be necessary," she politely refused, her voice trembling slightly. "I drove myself here. I know the way to the exit."

Rodion stared at her for a long, agonizing moment. Then, a low, rumbling noise escaped his throat.

"Hmmm," he hummed, his expression turning completely unreadable. He stepped back, dismissing her from his immediate space, and turned toward his office doors. Just before he pushed them open, he paused, looking back over his shoulder with a cold, mocking glint in his eyes. "Try not to get yourself killed today," he said softly.

Without waiting for her reaction, Rodion walked back into his office, leaving Milana standing in the corridor. Her limbs shaking, she practically bolted toward the elevators, desperate to get back to the safety of her car.

---

Inside the quiet sanctuary of the executive office, Rodion walked over to his desk. He didn't touch the crystal decanters lined up on the sideboard; his sobriety was absolute, a rigid discipline that kept his mind razor-sharp.

Before Lev could speak, the sleek smartphone on Rodion’s desk began to vibrate, its buzz echoing in the quiet room. Rodion picked it up, pressing it to his ear.

"Speak," Rodion commanded.

"Mr. Volkov," the voice of his head mechanic came through the line. "The repairs on the young lady's vehicle from yesterday's incident are officially complete. The bodywork is flawless. We are preparing to have it driven directly to her house now. Should we proceed with the delivery?"

Rodion’s eyes narrowed slightly as he looked out the floor-to-ceiling window. "No," Rodion ordered, his voice smooth and calculated. "Delay it."

"Understood, sir," the mechanic replied, and the line went dead.

Rodion tossed the phone back onto the desk and turned his gaze to Lev, who was watching him with a curious expression.

"Run a background check on her," Rodion said flatly. "I want to get to know her."

Lev blinked, his heavy brow furrowing in genuine confusion. He stepped closer to the desk, crossing his massive arms. "What do you mean, get to know her? Rodion, look at what we're dealing with right now with the rival syndicates. You think you have time for this?"

Rodion leaned back against his desk, a dangerous, unyielding glint in his dark eyes. He didn't raise his voice, but the absolute authority in his tone was undeniable.

"I think I have time to do whatever the f**k I want."

Lev stared at his friend for a beat, recognizing the tone that meant further argument was entirely useless. He let out a low sigh, shaking his head with a grim, reluctant smile.

"Alright," Lev said, pulling out his own device to initiate the sweep. "I’ll get it done. But it better be worth it."