Chapter 50
PETYR
By the time the clock strikes midnight, I’m still in my office.
I’m at my desk, sleeves rolled up, a half-empty glass of whiskey beside me. Dinnertime has come and gone, but I couldn’t risk tearing myself from this. I need all of my attention if I’m going to make sense of it.
The books spread out before me look fine at first glance. Numbers neatly aligned, expenses logged.
But they’re not right. I can feel it in my gut.
Money’s missing.
I drag a hand through my hair, lean back in the chair, and squint at the ledger like it might confess if I glare hard enough. Which of course it doesn’t. People are easier to draw answers from, at least how I do it.
Truth is, I’m not built for this kind of work. Dimitri was always the one with the head for numbers. He could read a balance sheet like other people read faces. Me? I’m the kind of man who prefers a simpler method. You lie? I hit you until you stop lying.
But since Dimitri’s still recovering and the accountants are all conveniently too scared to be honest with me, it falls on my shoulders to find out who’s skimming off the top.
It’s the club that’s the problem. Always the fucking club. Easy to move money through, easy to make it disappear. Cash comes in by the truckload—drinks, tips, VIP tables—and half of it never reaches the books.
I flip another page. My eyes narrow on the column of the liquor sales.
There.
Someone’s been shaving profits off that part, too. Not enough to trip alarms, but over time, it adds up. A few thousand here, a few thousand there. Nice and subtle. Too subtle for most of my men.
Which means whoever’s doing it isn’t some grunt. It’s someone who knows the system. Someone I trusted.
Someone like Lev.
My jaw tightens. Lev is gone, but clearly, he didn’t take all the rot with him.
So it falls to me to clean house. Again.
I close the ledger and stare out the window instead. The night air presses against the glass. Somewhere upstairs, I can hear the faint sound of movement. Soft footsteps, then silence again.
Sima.
She’s supposed to be asleep. Or at least pretending to be. But even when she’s quiet, I can still feel her in this house, a low current under my skin.
I rub the back of my neck and go back to the papers. Work first. The rest will have to wait.
I’ve been staring at the same two columns for an hour, chasing a culprit I can feel but can’t see.
Even when I catch the discrepancies, it’s hard to connect them to someone specific, and I keep having second thoughts about the numbers.
Which means checking and re-checking, over and over again, until my eyes are crossing.
I drag a hand down my face and look at the ledger again. Dimitri would have caught it by now. Hell, he probably would have fixed it before I even noticed. He had patience for this kind of shit.
It’s moments like this that I badly wish he were here. Back home, where he belongs.
The guilt twists deeper the longer I sit here. Lilia’s bedtime came and went hours ago. I told myself I’d finish one last page before going up, but the pages just keep stacking, too connected to each other to cut off the work midway.
I picture her tiny hands on the crib rail. Her wide eyes searching for me. I should be with my family right now.
But every time I think about closing this book, I see my father’s face. His disappointment.
Every second I let this go on, I’m letting someone disrespect our Bratva. The Gubarev name depends on me now. If I want to show Dimitri he can take a step back without worrying, I need to prove our Bratva will be in good hands with me.
The soft click of the door cuts through my thoughts. “Hey. Mind if I come in?”
It’s Sima. Instinctively, my muscles relax. “Of course not. You’re a sight for sore eyes.”
She smiles, a cheeky little grin that says, Yeah, I know.
Dirty little fox. She’s provoking me on purpose. She knows I’d love nothing more than to put her in her place now.
But these numbers won’t fix themselves.
She moves quietly, careful not to wake the house. The faint scent of soap and baby powder clings to her. Her hair’s down, a little messy.
“I just got Lilia down,” she says softly. “She’s finally out.”
“It’s late.” I glance up from the ledger. “She give you trouble?”
“A little.” She leans against the frame, arms crossed loosely over her chest. “She kept looking for you.”
I nod, jaw tight. “I’ll come up soon. Just need to finish a few things.”
“You’ve been down here a while.” She doesn’t make it sound like an accusation. Just concern.
“I know.”
“Can’t whatever it is wait until tomorrow?”
I shake my head. “I fucking wish.”
She crosses the room until she’s standing beside my chair. Her hand brushes my shoulder. Light, warm. “Then maybe I can help you relax.” She winks. “Just for a little while.”
That gets my attention.
I tilt my head up to look at her. There’s something in her voice, a teasing edge. The kind of thing I don’t know how to refuse. “Yeah? And what did you have in mind?”
In lieu of answering, she reaches for the hem of her sweater and pulls it over her head.
Her jeans follow, peeled down her legs in one unhurried motion. Then her underthings.
I forget how to breathe.
My pen slips from my hand and hits the desk. The numbers disappear from my mind. The guilt, the frustration, all of it burns away until there’s nothing left but her: bare skin, soft curves, and that cheeky, knowing look in her eyes.
I push my chair back from the desk, ready to see where this is going.
She squeezes between my desk and my chair and drops to her knees. Her tongue peeks out to wet her lips, already parted.
I’m hard before she even pulls me out.
Then her mouth is on me.
“Fuck.” I fist my hand in her hair. “You dirty lisichka.”
I watch her pretty pink lips part around the head of my cock. She’s fucking gorgeous, all flushed and eager to please. Her tongue darts out in kitten licks, gets me all nice and wet along the shaft.
Slowly, her mouth envelops half my cock.
I grip her hair a little harder. Push her down ever-so-slightly. “You can take more than that.”
She hums around my length. A little desperate, a little lost. She wants to be good for me so bad, but I can feel her gagging when she takes me too fast.
“Easy now.” I guide her down, firm but measured. “Don’t finish it all at once. Savor it, little fox.”
Her throat bobs. I can see myself peek from her cheek, and it drives me fucking insane. Without thinking, I press down on the spot, feel the touch of my own fingers through her skin.
She moans at that. Takes me deeper and deeper.
“Blyat’. You were made for this, weren’t you?” My thumb traces her lower lip, feeling the fullness behind it. “To take my cock.”
She tries to nod, but she’s too full to move her head much. Only up and down, down and up again.
I hold her still and start fucking her face.
I go slow at first. Nice and easy. Let her adjust to the rhythm of my thrusts inside her throat. There’s still resistance there, but it melts quickly, because she wants me to do it, too. Wants to feel herself being useful.
“Good girl,” I groan.
That nearly undoes her. I can tell by how hard her throat vibrates around me, how high-pitched her moans get.
I quicken the pace, shove myself in faster, deeper. Sima takes me beautifully. Never gags again. Just swallows as much of her spit and my precum as she can. The rest dribbles out of her full cheeks, down her shiny lips, and the sight—fuck. It’s almost too much.
She starts sucking, hard. Trying to stop that embarrassing display, only it’s far from embarrassing to me. It’s hot as sin, and I want more.
“I’m gonna come inside your mouth,” I tell her. “When I do, you’re going to swallow all of it. Understood?”
She can’t answer, but the enthusiasm with which she starts sucking me off harder tells me everything I need to know. She wants it—badly.
But then I realize there’s something else I want, too.
Abruptly, I pull her off. My cock is pulsing already, a couple of licks away from orgasm, but I breathe in deeply and hold back.
“Petyr?” she asks, disoriented. “What—?”
Without a word, I yank her into my lap.
“Change of plans,” I murmur as I spread her thighs.
I don’t give her explanations. Luckily, Sima knows me too well to demand any. She knows what I want from her.
When the tip of my cock presses into her, I find her slick, ready. I haven’t even touched her, but that’s the effect I have on her. She’s this far gone just from sucking me off. The thought drives me insane.
“Perfect,” I croon in her ear. “You’re fucking perfect, Sima.”
One smooth thrust, and I’m all the way inside.
I fuck her hard and fast. Give her no time to catch her breath.
“Petyr,” Sima gasps, hands tight in my hair. “I-I’m gonna—”
It’s the fastest I’ve ever made her come.. “Come,” I order. “Let me feel that pretty pussy clench for me.”
And she does.
She breaks apart as I fuck her, but I don’t stop. I keep going, one merciless thrust after the other, while she pulses desperately around me. I feel her muscles tighten, her whole body convulse.
That’s what finally rips my orgasm out of me. Her pleasure.
I come with a low grunt deep inside Sima. She moans again when she feels me, pressed so flush against me that not a drop can escape. If I didn’t know better, I’d say she’s trying to get pregnant again already.
One day. I savor the idea of that moment. When she’ll feel ready, I’ll fill her up all she likes. Make her swell with my child all over again.
For now, I do what she came here to make me do.
I hold her close, kiss her slow and deep, and finally relax.