Obsessive boss, p.1
Obsessive Boss, page 1
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OBSESSIVE BOSS
BRATVA BROTHERS BOOK FOUR
WILLOW FOX
Copyright © 2022 by Willow Fox
All rights reserved.
Edited by Marla VanHoy
Cover Design by MiblArt
V2
No part of this book may be reproduced in any form or by any electronic or mechanical means, including information storage and retrieval systems, without written permission from the author, except for the use of brief quotations in a book review.
CONTENTS
About this Book
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Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Chapter 13
Chapter 14
Chapter 15
Epilogue Part 1
Epilogue Part 2
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About the Author
Also by Willow Fox
ABOUT THIS BOOK
We’ve remodeled Club Sage, and I’m just about to burn the place down to the ground.
When Savannah comes looking for a job, I hire her on the spot. We’re desperate for dancers, and she’s stunning. How could she not be perfect for the job?
Don’t mix business and pleasure—the advice I should have heeded from my mentor and boss, Nikita Krylova.
I let a federal agent into the workplace.
Savannah has access to the books and the money we launder.
I’m screwed if my boss Nikita or the head of the bratva, Mikhail, discovers my little indiscretion.
But they’re bound to find out since Mikhail’s better half, Madisyn, is former FBI. She worked with Savannah Blakely. Do I come clean and accept that I’m a dead man or bury the truth and a few bodies before anyone finds out?
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ONE
Savannah
I'm a virgin all over again, except this time, my first is being undercover. And it's not a little job. Supervisory Special Agent Barrett Kingston is sending me deep, to infiltrate the bratva.
And if that's not complicated enough, I have to make sure that I steer clear of Madisyn Carter, former FBI and a colleague of mine.
I'm a bundle of nervous energy wrapped in a neat little bow with a shy smile. I swallow down the anxiety and bury it as deep as I can because I can't screw this up.
The FBI higher-ups have demanded that we provide evidence against Mikhail Barinov and his crime organization. No easy task, but I'm not dealing with the Pakhan. My focus is on one of the men running the club. My mark is Anton Petrova.
I stroll up to Club Sage in a short black skirt and bright red top that matches my lipstick. It's not my usual attire, but I'm dressed to play the part and for my interview with Anton.
Yanking open the heavy door, I see that the club's interior is much darker than the outside, and it takes a moment for my eyes to adjust to the intense change.
"Can I help you?" a man with a thick Russian accent asks. He glances me up and down. It's not Anton. I've seen his picture enough times and memorized who I'm targeting to realize that this man is just another member of the bratva. The man at the door is nothing more than a glorified bodyguard.
"I have an interview," I say.
The place smells of fresh paint and wood. The interior is shiny, and the stage appears new. At first glance, the club has just opened, but the outside of the building shows its age. Something must have happened here to require such an extensive remodel.
There's no mention of it in the FBI or the newspapers. No report on the news signifying a remodel or the reason for one.
"Wait here," the man says. He tromps down the hall and out of view. A minute later, he returns. There's not an ounce of friendliness or warmth in his tone. "Follow me."
I oblige and accompany him down the long, dark hallway and then around the bar to the back. It's a small office, no windows and only one door.
"Hi, I'm Savannah," I say, introducing myself and handing him my resume.
"Thank you, Dmitri." The Russian who escorted me to the office shuts the door behind me on his way out. "I'm Anton." He drops the resume to the desk, uninterested in the paper and the information it contains.
I press my lips together. He hasn't gestured or told me to sit, so I stand opposite his desk, my hands folded in front of me.
"You dance?" Anton glances me over, his gaze scrutinizing every inch of my clothed skin.
"I've dabbled," I say. Agent Kingston insisted before this operation that I take a pole dancing class and train with an instructor. They weren't my finest hours, but I've improved quite a bit since the beginning. Enough that I should be able to pull off dancing. It's not like I'm fibbing that I've had years of experience.
"I need to see what you've got. Dance," Anton gestures at me and points to the small space in the room. He's not looking for a lap dance. He wants me to show him what I can do on my own.
My pulse quickens, and I place my purse on the nearby chair. I turn with my back to Anton and sway my hips, letting him stare at my ass while I w ork the top button on my red blouse free.
I spin around to face him, my shirt giving him a glimpse of my push-up bra, but I haven't shown all of it yet. I'll be wearing far less on stage, but he hasn’t asked me to strip down. However, I'll probably be expected to do so during the interview, so I may as well give him a show.
The man isn't half bad-looking. Okay, if I'm to be blunt, Anton is hot. His dark brown eyes wander down my body. His hair is thick and dark. Dare say, I want to run my fingers through it. But I refrain.
He's in a buttoned-up suit, giving no indication of what's underneath his outfit. I'd like to undress him, rip his crisp white cotton shirt open and grab him by his tie, dragging him toward me and down onto his knees.
But I doubt that he'll let me dominate him.
He's the kind of man who exudes power and revels in being in control. Just imagining what it would be like in bed with him, makes my cheeks burn and helps me get into my role as a dancer for his club.
I use the small space and own it like I belong here because this can't fall apart if I want to climb my way up the bureau ladder.
The wooden desk sits between us, and I use it as a prop while dancing. I don't bother to ask for permission before climbing atop it, my platform heels allowing me to clomp against the wood. Thankfully, the room has tall ceilings.
Anton stares at me and leans back in his leather chair with a smug grin. I'm sure he can look up my skirt and see the thong I'm wearing. I expected that he'd require me to dance as part of the interview, and I wanted to be prepared.
I have to land this job. If he doesn't give it to me, I can't go sulking back to the FBI that I failed the most basic aspect of undercover work, getting in with the bad guys.
I sway my hips, and my hands smooth over my body, undoing the rest of the buttons on my blouse. I turn my back to Anton and slowly inch the shirt over my shoulders. My best moves are teasing and seductive. There's no pole in this office. I have to use what I know.
I run my fingers through my long blonde tresses and let my hand wander down across my bra as I let the red shirt fall to the floor. I won't wear a shirt and blouse when I dance for the club. I'll be in nothing more than a G-string and bikini top.
My black skirt wraps around my waist, and I dance and unclasp the clip holding the material together before letting it glide down to the floor.
Anton shifts in his seat and bites down on his bottom lip. The tips of his ears are bright red. Does he always get aroused by the entertainment? Or is it me?
The office door swings open without so much as a knock. Am I supposed to continue? As if there is music being played, I continue swaying and dancing.
Anton clears his throat and motions for me to get down. "I've seen enough."
"I'll chat with you after you're done," the gentleman who barged into the office says.
I recognize him from the background that I was forced to memorize. He's Nikita Krylova, one of Mikhail's men and the club's manager.
He retreats from the small office and shuts the door while I climb down from the desk and retrieve my clothes off the floor. I'm still in my matching scarlet panties and bra.
"The pay is shit. My other girls get priority on the main platform. You'll have to earn your place on the stage," Anton says. "The club takes fifty percent. You have to wear the clothes we provide and no sassing the patrons or giving any of the employees attitude. Also, no taking on private clients after hours. Are you still interested?"
"When do I start?" I ask.
TWO
Anton
I'd been in my office all morning, interviewing, and only one girl showed up, a sexy blonde with the brightest blue eyes I've ever seen, Savannah Parker.
I would have hired her on the spot based on her looks and the set of tits and ass on the girl.
But I figured that I might as well make her dance, and boy, am I glad that I did. That was quite a show, and it was entirely for me.
Until my boss, Nikita, decided to burst right in without knocking. Couldn't he pretend to give a shit? The last thing I want is the new girl thinking that I'm below Nikita, even if he is my superior.
The man runs the club.
He doesn't own it. Mikhail, the head of the bratva, owns the business. But he's too busy with other matters to run every enterprise that he's involved himself in, which works out well for me. I get a portion of the proceeds brought in from the club, while Mikhail gets to launder money. It's a win-win for everyone.
I loosen my tie and stand. Savannah has already found her way out of the office. She has orders to return when we open this evening. Until then, she doesn't need to hang around. I don't need her discovering the shit we do around here.
I open the office door and head up the stairs for Nikita's private office. He's got a large office with an exceptional view that overlooks the dance floor with one-way glass. Even after the remodel, he kept the same floor plan and layout. His office is three times the size of mine. Although, in his defense, I spent quite a bit more time on the floor with the ladies and patrons.
Someone has to make sure the place is running smoothly, and although Nikita is the manager, I mingle with the guests, help when the floor is crowded with drink orders, and keep the place operating smoothly.
I ought to run the club, but I have no hard feelings for Nikita. We're brothers.
Unlike Nikita, who barges into my office, I knock before entering.
"It's open," Nikita says.
I step into his office and close the door behind myself.
He glances up from behind his desk, his pen poised in his hand, but he stops writing. "Cute girl you had in here earlier. Did you hire her?" Nikita asks.
"I did," I say and quirk a grin.
"Quite the dancer. Is that how you interview all your employees? Because I'd love to be part of the interview process."
"Shut up."
Nikita shrugs, not the least bit offended. "I'm taking off early tonight. I assume you can close for me."
He's not asking.
"You got it," I say. I shouldn't ask, but I can't stop myself from wanting to know if it's because of his new flame. "Do you have plans with Lucy?"
He's married, and while he doesn't strike me as a family man, the marriage was initially to protect Lucy and her son. But I think he's always harbored feelings for her, even when he hated her. Besides, the man can barely keep his claws off her.
"No, she's going shopping with Hannah."
"Better keep her on a tight leash," I joke.
"I'm not worried. Hannah is shopping for a wedding dress." Nikita flashes his wedding band at me. "The way I see it, I got off cheap."
"Careful, brother. Marrying her at the courthouse could come back to bite you in the ass. If she hears you talking like that, she'll be asking for a do-over wedding somewhere exotic and expensive."
While Nikita and I aren't blood brothers, we're both members of the bratva. We might as well be blood because our ties are just as strong.
"Don't go putting any ideas into her head," he warns.
"I wouldn't dream of it."
Nikita shuffles a few pages around on his desk. He glances up at me once more. "Did you run a background check on the new hire?"
"I did not." I wince at the realization that I was supposed to vet her qualifications before I offered the job. "Is that a problem? We're short two dancers." We're not down several more because Nikita paid them during renovations to ensure that when the club reopened, they would be ready to work.
Nikita glances at his watch as if that will indicate how long a background check will take.
Days.
We don't have days.
I'm down to a couple of hours and no more interviews for the afternoon. Besides, even if I had a half dozen girls lined up for the job, I wouldn't be able to run background on them, either.
