Secret Bratva Daddy

Chapter 4Avros

4

Avros

I stand at the window of my study, my eyes fixed on the figure moving gracefully through the gardens below. Sydney's flame-red hair catches the early morning light, a beacon drawing my gaze inexorably to her. She pauses to admire the rose bushes, her slender fingers brushing the delicate petals with a reverence that stirs something deep within me.

Those were my mother's favorites. The thought comes unbidden, a memory I usually keep locked away. I have the sudden, irrational urge to join Sydney, to share that piece of history with her. To see her eyes light up with interest, to watch her drink in every detail of my past.

I shake my head, trying to dislodge these dangerous thoughts. What the hell is wrong with me? Sydney isn't here for some romantic stroll through memory lane. She's here because I need to keep her close, to ensure my family's secrets stay buried. Nothing more.

And yet...

My mind drifts back to last night, to the moment I showed her to her new room. The blue room, with its panoramic view of the grounds and the best vantage point for watching the sunrise. I'd ordered it prepared without a second thought, wanting her to have the finest accommodations my home had to offer.

"If you need anything," I'd told her, lingering in her doorway, "my room is just down the hall."

I'd seen the flash of understanding in those emerald eyes, the slight parting of her full lips. The air between us had crackled with tension, heavy with unspoken possibilities. It had taken every ounce of self-control to step back, to remember why she was really here.

But now, in the harsh light of day, I find myself questioning my own motives. Why did I choose that particular room for her? Why did I spend hours personally selecting a wardrobe of designer clothes in her size, adding a note that she was to spare no expense if she needed anything else?

I'm not a man given to indulgence or unnecessary luxury. Everything I do serves a purpose, advances my goals in some way. So, what purpose does spoiling Sydney serve?

A knock at the door interrupts my brooding. "Enter," I call out, not taking my eyes off Sydney's form below.

"Boss?" It's Alexei, my head of security. "The package you requested has arrived."

I turn, raising an eyebrow at the large, unmarked box in Alexei's arms. "Excellent. Set it on the desk."

As Alexei complies, I catch the flicker of curiosity in his usually impassive gaze. He's wondering about the contents, about why I've taken such a personal interest in our new... guest.

"Is there something else?" I ask, my tone a warning.

Alexei hesitates, then shakes his head. "No, sir. Will that be all?"

I dismiss him with a wave, turning my attention to the box. Inside is a state-of-the-art laptop, loaded with all the software Sydney will need to perform her duties as my assistant. And a few extra features to ensure I can monitor her activities closely.

It's a necessary precaution, I tell myself. Nothing more.

But as I set up the computer on the antique desk I've had moved into Sydney's room, I can't shake the feeling that I'm trying to convince myself of something. That there's more to this situation—to my interest in Sydney—than mere practicality. More to it than just protecting the family, protecting my brother, from harm.

I'm still mulling over these unsettling thoughts when a soft knock sounds at the study door. "Come in," I call out, straightening to my full height.

Sydney enters, looking like she stepped out of the pages of a high-fashion magazine in one of the dresses I selected for her. The emerald green silk clings to her curves in a way that makes my mouth go dry. Her fiery hair cascades over one shoulder in loose waves, and I'm struck by the urge to bury my hands in those silken tresses.

"Good morning, Mr. Petrov," she says, her voice soft but steady. "I hope I'm not interrupting?"

"Avros," I correct her automatically. "And no, you're not interrupting. I was just about to send for you."

Sydney nods, taking a hesitant step into the room. Her eyes dart around, taking in every detail with obvious curiosity. When her gaze lands on the laptop, her brow furrows slightly.

"Is that...?" she trails off, uncertainty coloring her tone.

"Your new work computer," I confirm, gesturing for her to come closer. "Come, I'll show you how to use it."

As Sydney approaches, I'm acutely aware of her presence. The subtle floral scent of her perfume teases my senses, making it difficult to focus on the task at hand. I find myself standing closer than strictly necessary as I walk her through the computer's features, my chest nearly brushing her back.

"This all seems very... advanced," Sydney comments, her fingers hovering over the keyboard. "I'm not sure I'm qualified?—"

"Nonsense," I interrupt, placing a hand on her shoulder. She tenses slightly at the contact, but doesn't pull away. "You're more than capable, krasotka . I wouldn't have chosen you otherwise."

Sydney turns her head, meeting my gaze. This close, I can see the flecks of gold in her green eyes, the light dusting of freckles across the bridge of her nose. My thumb traces small circles on her shoulder of its own accord, the heat of her skin addictive.

"Why did you choose me?" she asks, her voice barely above a whisper. “You could’ve just bought me off with money, instead of hiring me to be your assistant. There must be dozens of more qualified candidates."

"I told you," I murmur, leaning in closer. "I like your spirit. Your intelligence. Your... adaptability. I want to keep you close to me, and this is the best way to do that.”

Sydney's breath hitches, her lips parting slightly. For a moment, I'm tempted to close the distance between us, to claim that pretty mouth with my own. To hell with resisting when I crave her so deeply.

But then reality reasserts itself. I step back, dropping my hand from her shoulder. "Now," I say, my voice rough with suppressed lust, "let's begin your training."

The next few hours pass in a blur of explanations and demonstrations. Sydney proves to be a quick study, absorbing information at an impressive rate. I find myself impressed by her sharp mind, the insightful questions she asks.

"So, this encrypted messaging system," Sydney says, her brow furrowed in concentration, "it's for communicating with your associates?"

I nod, leaning over her shoulder to point at the screen. "Exactly. Every message is coded and self-destructs after reading. It's essential for sensitive information."

She turns her head slightly, those green eyes meeting mine. "What kind of sensitive information?"

I can't help but smirk. "The kind you don't need to worry about, krasotka . At least not yet."

As we work, I can't help but notice the little things about her. The way she bites her lower lip when concentrating on a particularly complex task. The delicate curve of her neck as she bends over the keyboard, a stray curl falling forward to brush her collarbone. The flash of leg revealed by the slit in her dress when she crosses and uncrosses her legs, a tantalizing glimpse of smooth skin that makes my mouth go dry.

"What about this folder?" Sydney asks, gesturing to an icon on the desktop. "It's locked."

I place my hand over hers on the mouse, guiding it away. "That's not for you. Some secrets are best left undiscovered."

She shivers at my touch, a light blush coloring her cheeks. "I understand," she whispers, but I can see the curiosity burning in her eyes.

It's maddening, this constant awareness of her. I've never been so distracted by a woman before. Never felt this overwhelming urge to possess, to claim. Every accidental brush of her arm against mine, every soft intake of breath, it all sets my nerves on fire.

"Avros?" Sydney's voice cuts through my thoughts. "Did you hear me?"

I blink, realizing I've been staring. "My apologies. What were you saying?"

She gives me a quizzical look. "I was asking about the schedule for tomorrow. There's a meeting marked 'M. situation'. What does that mean?"

For a moment, I'm tempted to tell her everything. About Miron, about the charges, about the lengths I'm going to in order to protect him. But I hold back. She's not ready for that level of involvement. Not yet.

"Nothing you need to concern yourself with," I say instead, my tone brooking no argument. "Just make sure the conference room is prepared and refreshments are available."

Sydney nods, but I can see the wheels turning behind those captivating eyes. She's piecing things together, faster than I anticipated. It's both impressive and dangerous.

I need to be more careful around her. But with every passing minute, I'm finding that easier said than done.

"I think that's enough for now," I say abruptly, needing to put some distance between us before I do something rash. "Take a break, familiarize yourself with the grounds. We'll continue this afternoon."

Sydney looks up, surprise evident on her face. "Oh, alright. Thank you, mister… I mean, Avros."

The sound of my name on her lips sends a jolt of electricity through me. I clench my fists at my sides, fighting the urge to pull her into my arms.

"You're welcome," I manage, my voice gruffer than intended. "And Sydney?"

She pauses at the door, looking back at me with those mesmerizing green eyes. "Yes?"

"Remember what I said. You're mine now. Don't forget it."

A shiver runs through her, visible even from across the room. Fear? Excitement? Both? I can't be sure. But the sight of it stokes the fire burning in my veins.

As Sydney leaves, closing the door softly behind her, I sink into my chair with a groan. What the hell am I doing? This woman is a complication I can't afford, not with Miron's trial looming and my enemies circling like vultures.

And yet, I can't bring myself to regret bringing her into my world. The thought of letting her go, of never seeing those green eyes flash with defiance or watching that lush mouth curve into a smile... it's unthinkable.

I'm playing a dangerous game, one with stakes higher than I've ever encountered. But as I replay every moment of our interaction, every fleeting touch and loaded glance, I can't help but think:

Some games are worth the risk.