Page 15 of Bratva's Mercy
When I met her gaze, she didn’t look away.
Interesting. Most people tended to avoid making eye contact with me.
Around her, a few of the employees shifted uneasily, their shoulders tightening as if they anticipated what she would say.
“My name is Hazel,” she said, her voice calm. “I run the second floor.”
I nodded for her to continue.
“For months, we’ve been understaffed,” Hazel said. “Three or even two servers covering twelve VIP tables during peak hours. Security rotates guards without telling anyone, which means sometimes there’s no one watching the stairwell to the third floor, and deliveries for the bar arrive late half the time because there’s no one coordinating schedules.”
“We’ve raised these issues repeatedly.” She folded her arms loosely, though her expression remained composed. “Nothing ever changes. Why should we think anything’s going to be different under you?”
“Wasn’t the operations manager supposed to address these problems?” I asked.
Her brow lifted slightly, and I searched my memory, recalling the information Maxim’s office had compiled when they handed over Vasiliev’s territory.
“The club manager,” I said slowly. “The one overseeing bar operations and staffing…”
“Daniel Blackwell, isn’t it?” Nik offered, checking through his phone.
“Yes, Blackwell. Isn’t he here today?”
The room went silent, and everyone I looked at made a concerted effort to avoid my gaze.
Hazel rolled her eyes. “There’s no one here by that name,” she said flatly.
I blinked. For a second, I thought she had misunderstood me.
“The operations manager,” I repeated. “The one responsible for coordinating the floors.”
Hazel shook her head. “There’s never been one.”
The silence that followed stretched long enough for the realization to settle in. Of course. Vasiliev listed an operations manager on the payroll…someone who didn’t exist. Which meant the salary for that position had been going straight into his own pocket. I closed my eyes briefly and exhaled through my nose. This territory was even more of a mess than I thought.
Nik let out a low whistle beside me. “Well,” he muttered under his breath, “that explains a lot.”
It certainly did.
No operations manager meant no one coordinating staff schedules, no one overseeing deliveries, no one managing the workflow between floors. The entire place had been running on improvisation while Vasiliev skimmed the salary of an employee who wasn’t real.
I suppressed the urge to pinch the bridge of my nose.
Cleaning up Vasiliev’s mess was going to take longer than anticipated. Which meant tonight wouldn’t be the only night I’d be stuck here overseeing this place. And if I were stuck here, I would miss escorting Leo home from the hospital again.
I preferred that word—escort. It sounded far less obsessive than what Nik kept accusing me of. Still, the thought irritated me more than it should have.
I straightened and looked back at the woman in front of me. “Alright, Hazel, we have our work cut out for us. I need all floor managers and the head of security to stay behind while we sort this mess out.”
5
LEO
Ichecked the time on my phone as I pushed through the staff exit of the hospital.
11:52 p.m.
Technically, my shift had ended at eight, but I’d stayed behind to catch up on some paperwork. Mine and Brad’s lawyer had called again, leaving me a voicemail to request a meeting to discuss Brad’s will and last wishes. After the funeral, I had told him I needed some time, then I didn’t return his call.
