Cruel Paradise (Oryolov Bratva Book 1)

“What’s our budget look like?”

Kirill consults the columned paper lying on the table between us. “We’re within our targets. Looks like everything’s right on track. Financially speaking, at least.”

I nod in approval. “Sergey’s running the last few trials as we speak. It shouldn’t be long now.”

“Well, I’ll be damned. I thought we’d never reach the top of this mountain.”

I’ve had my moments of doubt, too, not that I’d ever admit to them. It’s been a hell of a long road to get here. Sleepless nights. Endless days.

It’ll be worth it in the end.

He punches me in the shoulder playfully. “I should have known, though. You’ve got the Midas touch.”

Except when it comes to family… The unwelcome thought takes me off guard. I almost never go there. Luckily, my phone starts ringing.

“Isay?”

“It’s done.”

That’s all I need. Hanging up, I use the intercom button to summon Emma into my office. Kirill’s expression is a carefully curated mask. But I’ve known him too long to be fooled by the indifference he’s trying to pull off.

“You called me, Mr. Oryolov?”

“Come in, Ms. Carson.”

She click-clacks towards my desk in her standard black peek-a-boo heels. The woman is in desperate need of a wardrobe overhaul. There are a few boutiques I could call to—

No. Not my fucking problem.

“I wanted to let you know that, as of right now, your debts are paid.”

There’s pin-drop silence. Emma’s gaze flickers to Kirill for a moment and then back to me. She rolls her bottom lip, which is coated in a natural nude gloss today.

“I’m not sure I understand, sir.”

Kirill adjusts his position just enough to be able to see Emma properly. It’s the first time today that I’ve been glad she’s wearing a conservative flared skirt instead of the hip-hugging pencil style she usually opts for.

“You are debt-free,” I repeat.

She opens her mouth. Then closes it. Another lip roll. Another short glance towards Kirill. “Is this… a joke?”

My hackles rise instantly. “Do I strike you as the joking type, Ms. Carson?”

She shifts from her right leg to her left. “Um…”

My teeth grind together impatiently. “Why don’t you make a call to your bank? That may help you process this. I’m not in the mood to repeat myself a third time.”

She twists around, hesitates, glances at me, and then heads for the door. For once, Kirill’s eyes aren’t fixed on her as she walks away. They’re fixed on me.

Which is only marginally better, really.

“What?” I snap.

He shrugs. “Just in awe of your genius. A contracted sexual partner. I never would have gone there, not in a million years.”

“That’s why I’m the brains of this operation.”

He smirks. “I’m the—”

BANG. Emma doesn’t even seem to hear the sound of the door slamming into the wall as she flies back into the office, her face a mask of shock and disbelief.

“Oh my God,” she gasps. “You weren’t kidding.”

Then she does the very last thing I expected. She thanks me, with actual fucking tears in her eyes.

“Rus—I mean, Mr. Oryolov, I-I can’t thank you enough. You have no idea how much this means to me. I just… I can’t believe it…”

She keeps up a steady stream of chatter that I’m only half-getting because I’m so distracted by the way her tears are making her irises go from dark cerulean to pale turquoise.

It doesn’t help that Kirill is still lurking off to the side, grinning like the fucking Cheshire cat.

“This is going to make a world of difference. I’m actually gonna be able to save now. I’ll have to make sure he never knows. That’ll take some work, but I can—”

“He?”

The snap of my voice has her dropping off mid-sentence. Color rushes to her cheeks, turning them pinker than her lips. “Oh, never mind. I shouldn’t have—It’s nothing. I can handle it.”

I could make her tell me, but I see no point when Kirill will supply me with all the answers I want with just a little digging.

What I want right now, however, is to get Emma back to her desk as fast as possible. I was expecting gratitude. I was not expecting the blubbering mess that stands before me, looking at me as though I’m the second coming.

I’m not interested in being her hero, and yet somehow, that is exactly what I’ve managed to do.

The warmth of pride in my chest can go fuck right off, too. I’m not in this to be sentimental.

And she’s still fucking going. “Seriously, this means the world to me. I can’t believe how gener—”

“Fucking hell, woman. Do you have an off button?”

She freezes, her mouth a perfect oval of surprise. Then her lips come together and hurt pools in those light blue eyes. “I’m just trying to thank you.”

“I don’t need your thanks. What I need is a presentable secretary who’s got her shit together. And currently, you’re not ticking either one of those boxes.”

The brightness in her eyes snuffs out instantly. Good. It’s too much. She needs to remember that I’m no knight in shining armor—I’m the fucking dragon.

“Go back to your desk and pull yourself together.”

She doesn’t move. “What is wrong with you?” The fight in her eyes is much preferable to the hurt. It’s oddly titillating, too. “I was only trying to thank you. There’s no need to be such a… such a colossal asshole.”

Kirill snorts, but I doubt Emma hears it because she’s preoccupied with lighting up bright red in embarrassment, then storming out, her heels clacking like gunfire as she goes.

The door slams again, in the other direction this time.

“Well,” Kirill chuckles, “that was… interesting.”

I unclench my jaw. “I want another background check done on her. This time, dig into her personal life. I want to know who the fuck this ‘he’ is that she’s hiding shit from.”

“On it.” Kirill fixes me with a curious glance. “Gotta be honest: I’m surprised you let her talk to you like that. Most people would never get away with that sort of disrespect.”

I raise an eyebrow. “Oh, she hasn’t gotten away with anything. I plan on punishing her for it tonight.”

My cock is already throbbing with anticipation.

Only a couple more hours and I will remind her exactly who I am.