Office Hours
“No. No!” Your voice was a blade, cutting through the silence of your office as you pressed the phone tighter against your ear. Frustration burned hot in your chest, your free hand dragging down your face as if you could wipe away the growing impatience.
“I told you to find him, and you didn’t. So now…” You exhaled sharply, your fingers curling into a fist. “Now, things get bad.”
The silence on the other end was pathetic. You could hear the hesitation, the scrambling for an excuse. It made your teeth grind.
“I’m done with this.” The words left your lips like a death sentence before you ended the call with a sharp tap, tossing the phone onto your desk.
A simple request. That’s all it was. Find the bastard who thought he could cross you and walk away unscathed. But men—oh, men—never seemed to listen. It was as if they all shared some collective, rotting brain cell that failed to comprehend the concept of consequences. And now your enemies were multiplying like vermin, crawling out of their holes, thinking they were safe.
A sharp rattling against your window snapped you out of your thoughts. Instinct took over before reason could catch up. Your fingers curled around the cold metal of the gun hidden beneath your desk, heart hammering as you raised it, your index finger resting hot against the trigger. You’d never had to use it before, but the idea of it didn’t bother you. Not tonight.
“Over here, Малышка голубка,” a voice murmured from the shadows, smooth and deep, carrying that infuriating mix of amusement and control.
Your grip on the gun tightened. “I’m no little dove,” you shot back, voice low, warning. “And I don’t take kindly to uninvited guests breaking into my home.”
Slowly, you lowered the gun, but instead of tucking it away, you placed it down on the desk in front of you, fingers still resting near the handle. Just in case. You turned your gaze toward the darkened corner of the room, where a figure lingered like a specter just beyond the reach of the dim light.
“Explain yourself. Now, Hunter.”
The man stepped forward, his presence filling the space like a storm rolling in. Broad shoulders, sharp features, eyes that held just the right amount of danger. His lips curved slightly—mocking, teasing, like he enjoyed testing how close he could dance to the fire.
“It’s Kraven,” he corrected smoothly, watching you like a predator watches prey.
You tilted your head, unimpressed. “And? That’s supposed to mean something to me?”
He let out a quiet chuckle, the kind that sent a slow chill down your spine. “It will.”
And somehow, you believed him.
“I don’t take kindly to threats, Mr. Kraven.” Your voice was edged with venom, your jaw tightening as you stared him down.
Kraven lifted his hands in mock surrender, the ghost of a smirk tugging at his lips. “Threats? Малышка, if I wanted to threaten you, you’d know it.”
The laugh that followed was quiet, amused—and it set your blood on fire. It wasn’t fear that made him cautious; it was amusement, as if he found your anger entertaining. Like you were some kind of game he enjoyed playing.
Your grip on the desk tightened. “What do you want?” you asked coldly, forcing the fury in your veins into ice.
He exhaled, rolling his shoulders as he stepped toward the fireplace, the flickering light casting shadows across his sharp features. He took his time answering, dragging out the moment like he was savoring it.
“You,” he said finally, turning back to you. “Well… your help, specifically.”
You scoffed, leaning back in your chair. “That’s cute. You break into my office, piss me off, and then ask for a favor? Must be losing your touch, Hunter.”
He chuckled, shaking his head. “It’s Kraven,” he reminded you, a hint of exasperation lacing his tone.
“I heard you the first time,” you shot back. “Doesn’t mean I care.”
The smirk remained, but there was something underneath it now. Something colder.
“I’ve got a problem,” he admitted, pacing slightly. “A group of Bratva, more skilled than they should be, and way too confident for their own good. They’ve been nipping at my heels for weeks, thinking they can carve out a piece of my territory.” His voice dropped slightly, something dangerous curling around the words. “And they made the mistake of killing one of my own.”
You inhaled slowly, watching him carefully. There was real anger in his voice now, simmering beneath the smooth exterior.
“So what?” You tilted your head. “You want me to get rid of them for you? Because that’s not really my problem.”
His eyes met yours, dark and unreadable. “I don’t need a cleaner—I need a partner.”
You laughed, shaking your head. “A partner? You must be desperate.”
Kraven exhaled, running a hand through his hair before stepping closer to your desk. “They’re not your typical low-life muscle. Whoever’s backing them gave them training, resources, and a little too much confidence. If they’re this much trouble for me, it won’t be long before they start making problems for you, too.”
That gave you pause.
He saw the hesitation, the way your eyes flickered with thought. And, of course, he pounced on it.
“You do have a reputation for handling things that get… inconvenient.” His voice was silk now, smooth and tempting. “And I know you’d rather deal with them now than when they come knocking at your door.”
You tapped a finger against the desk, considering. He had a point. If these Bratva were as skilled as he claimed, it wouldn’t take long for them to overstep. And when they did, you’d rather be prepared.
Still, you weren’t about to make this easy for him.
“I don’t work for free,” you said finally, meeting his gaze. “And I don’t do favors.”
Kraven’s smirk returned, slow and knowing. “Didn’t expect you to.” He reached into his coat, pulling out a small, sleek flash drive, and placed it on your desk.
“What’s this?” you asked, arching a brow.
“Details. Names. Locations. And an offer.” He leaned in slightly. “You help me put them in the ground, and I’ll owe you one. A big one.”
You stared at him, your fingers brushing over the flash drive. You weren’t an idiot—you knew the value of having a man like Kraven in your debt. And if this group really was as much of a problem as he claimed…
After a moment, you sighed, sliding the drive toward you. “Fine. But if this turns into a mess, it’s your mess to clean up.”
Kraven grinned, the kind of grin that said he knew he’d won before he even walked into the room.
“Oh, don’t worry,” he murmured, stepping back. “I wouldn’t dream of making things messy for you, Малышка.”
You rolled your eyes.
This was going to be interesting.