Plus-Size Bratva Bride (Vadim Bratva #9)

Chapter 3 - Pippa

"No, Dmitri, you need to stack the chips this way," I explained, demonstrating the proper technique. "It's more efficient and-—”

"Actually," a deep voice cut in from behind me, "you should be stacking them like this."

I gritted my teeth as Abrahim Ustinov's tattooed arm reached around me, his large hand deftly rearranging the poker chips. The scent of his cologne—spicy and masculine—invaded my senses. I forced myself not to react.

"Abrahim," I said, injecting sweetness into my voice. "I appreciate your input, but I've been training our staff on this method for weeks. It's the casino standard."

His steel blue eyes met mine, amusement dancing in their depths. "And I'm telling you there's a better way, Sweetheart. Trust me on this."

I bristled at the patronizing endearment. Who did he think he was calling me sweetheart? Sure, he was looking over the casino, but this was my job.

"Right," I said tightly. "Well, thank you for your suggestion. Dmitri, please continue as I showed you."

I turned on my heel, my skirt swishing around my thighs as I strode away. My cheeks burned with a mix of anger and embarrassment. This wasn't the first time Abrahim had undermined me, and I doubted it would be the last.

Later, I stood in a quiet corner of the casino floor, sipping water and observing the bustling room. My eyes were drawn, as if magnetically, to a certain dark-haired figure making his way through the crowd.

Abrahim moved with easy confidence, his tailored suit accentuating his broad shoulders. He stopped to chat with a group of women at the bar, flashing that trademark grin of his. One of them—a statuesque blonde—laughed at something he said, touching his arm flirtatiously.

I rolled my eyes so hard I nearly strained something. Of course the women were fawning over him. With his chiseled features and bad-boy charm, Abrahim Ustinov was catnip to half the female population of Chicago.

"Need anything, Pippa?" a passing waitress asked me.

I tore my gaze away from the nauseating display at the bar. "No, thanks, Jess. I'm good."

As Jess walked away, I caught sight of Abrahim again. This time, he was leaning close to whisper something into a brunette’s ear. She giggled, batting her eyelashes.

I took an angry swig of water, nearly choking as it went down the wrong pipe. What was wrong with me? Why did watching his flirtations bother me so much?

It wasn't like I was interested in him. The man was infuriating—arrogant, cocky, and apparently determined to make my job harder at every turn. So what if he was unfairly attractive? I had more important things to focus on than Abrahim Ustinov and his womanizing ways.

Squaring my shoulders, I headed back toward my office. I had work to do, dammit, and I wasn't about to let Abrahim distract me any further.

***

The next morning, as I rounded a corner, I overheard Abrahim's deep voice. "Great job with those new slot machines, Marissa. You're really nailing it."

I froze, my heart sinking. Marissa beamed at the praise, practically glowing. "Thanks, Mr. Ustinov! I'm so glad you like the setup."

I ducked behind a pillar, my cheeks burning. Why couldn't he ever say anything like that to me? It was always criticism, always pointing out what I could do better. I smoothed my blouse self-consciously, acutely aware of how it clung to my curves. Maybe if I looked more like Marissa—tall, willowy, perfect—he'd treat me differently.

No. I shook my head, banishing the thought. I refused to let Abrahim’s opinions dictate my self-worth. I was damn good at my job, and I didn't need his approval.

With renewed determination, I strode toward my office, focusing on the tasks ahead. I had reports to finish and a security upgrade to plan. Abrahim Ustinov and his infuriating charm could go to hell.

I'd barely settled at my desk when I sensed a presence in my doorway. My fingers froze over the keyboard as I caught a whiff of expensive cologne. Dammit. I kept my eyes glued to the screen, pretending to be engrossed in an email.

"Pippa." Abrahim's voice was smooth as silk. "Got a minute?"

I bit back a groan. So much for ignoring him.

I swiveled in my chair, plastering on a polite smile. "What can I do for you?"

He sauntered in, his blue-gray eyes gleaming with amusement. "I was looking over the security plans for the VIP lounge. Have you considered adding biometric scanners?"

My jaw clenched. Of course he had more opinions on my work. "We've discussed it, but the cost-benefit analysis didn't justify the expense."

He waved a hand dismissively. "Money's no object when it comes to security. Trust me, it'll be worth it."

I bit my tongue, reminding myself to stay professional. "I appreciate your input, but I assure you, we've thoroughly evaluated all options."

Abrahim leaned against my desk, his tattooed forearms on full display as he crossed them over his chest. "Come on, Pippa. You know I have experience with this stuff. Why not hear me out?"

My heart raced, a mix of irritation and something else I refused to acknowledge. His cologne enveloped me, making it hard to concentrate. I took a deep breath, trying to ignore how his presence seemed to fill the entire room.

"Abrahim," I began, proud of how steady my voice sounded. "While I value your opinion, this is my department. I've been entrusted with these decisions for a reason."

He smirked, and I felt my composure slipping. "Stubborn as always, aren't you? It's almost admirable."

I gripped the arms of my chair, fighting the urge to snap at him. Why did he have to be so infuriatingly arrogant? And why did part of me find it so damn attractive?

His smirk widened as he leaned closer, his blue-gray eyes glinting with amusement. "You know, Sweetheart, sometimes it's okay to admit when someone else might know better. No need to get your panties in a twist."

That was it. The condescension in his tone, the patronizing pet name—it all pushed me over the edge. I felt my cheeks flush with anger as I stood up abruptly, my chair rolling back with a sharp screech.

"Listen here," I snarled, jabbing a finger at his chest. "I don't give a damn how much 'experience' you think you have. This is my job, and I do it well. Your unsolicited advice isn't welcome, and neither is your caveman attitude."

Abrahim's eyebrows shot up, surprise flickering across his face before settling into an intrigued expression. He straightened up, towering over me, but I refused to back down. My heart pounded in my chest, a mix of adrenaline and defiance coursing through me.

"Well, well," he drawled, a hint of respect creeping into his voice. "Looks like the kitten's got claws after all."

I glared up at him, my eyes meeting his steel-blue gaze. "I'm not some timid little girl you can intimidate or charm, Abe. I've worked damn hard to get where I am, and I won't let you or anyone else undermine that."

A slow smile spread across his face, transforming his features from merely handsome to devastatingly attractive. "I can see that," he murmured, his eyes roaming over my face with newfound interest. "You're full of surprises, aren't you, Pippa?"

The tension between us crackled like electricity, and I suddenly became acutely aware of how close we were standing. I could feel the heat radiating from his body.

"I'm not here to surprise you," I retorted, struggling to keep my voice steady. "I'm here to do my job, which I'd appreciate if you'd let me get back to."

He leaned in slightly, his voice dropping to a low rumble. "And what if I'm not ready to let you go just yet?"

My breath caught in my throat. The look in his eyes had shifted from amusement to something darker, more intense. I felt my pulse quicken, a flush creeping up my neck.

Abrahim’s gaze dropped to my lips, and I found myself frozen in place. He inched closer, close enough that I could feel his breath on my skin. My mind raced, a jumble of conflicting thoughts and desires.

I stood perfectly still, my heart hammering so loudly I was sure he could hear it. Part of me wanted to push him away, to maintain the professional distance I'd always insisted on. But another part, a part I'd been trying to ignore, wanted to close that final gap between us.

His lips parted into the smallest smile.

Suddenly, a cold realization washed over me. This was Abrahim Ustinov, and from what I’ve seen, clearly a notorious playboy. The man who flirted with every woman in sight, who treated the casino like his personal hunting ground. He wasn't interested in me; he was just playing another one of his games.

I planted my hands firmly on his chest and shoved him back. "Nice try, Ustinov," I snapped, my voice laced with venom. "But I'm not one of your simpering fangirls. Keep your games for someone who cares."

His eyebrows shot up, surprise flashing across his face. "Pippa, I—”

"Save it," I cut him off, straightening my blouse. "I don't know what you think you're doing, but I'm not interested in being another notch on your bedpost. This is my workplace, and I expect to be treated with respect."

I grabbed my tablet from the desk, clutching it to my chest like a shield. "Now, if you'll excuse me, I have actual work to do. Unlike some people."

Without waiting for a response, I turned and strode away, my heels clicking against the polished floor, I couldn't help but steal a glance over my shoulder. Abrahim stood in the doorway of my office, his imposing figure filling the frame. His blue-gray eyes, usually dancing with arrogance, now held a look I'd never seen before.

Surprise. Admiration, even.

For a split second, our gazes locked. The corner of his mouth twitched, almost like he was fighting back a smile. Not his usual smirk, but something… different. It sent an unexpected shiver down my spine.

I quickly turned away, focusing on the path ahead. But I could feel his eyes on me, following my every step. My mind raced, trying to make sense of what I'd just seen.

My cheeks burned with a mixture of anger and embarrassment, but I held my head high as I strode down the hallway. My mind raced, replaying the scene over and over.

How dare he? Did he think I was that easily manipulated? That desperate for attention? I may not be one of the slim, giggling women he usually pursued, but that didn't mean I was going to fall at his feet just because he deigned to show interest.

As I rounded the corner, I took a deep breath, trying to calm my racing heart. This wasn't over, I knew. Abrahim Ustinov wasn't the type to back down easily. But neither was I. Whatever game he was playing, I refused to be a pawn in it.