Chapter Eleven
Maron
"So, Elena just run off, huh boss?" Pavel asks furrowing his brows. He slumps down on the chair and stares at me. "Why the fuck would she do that?"
I stretch myself and suppress a yawn. "Found herself another guy, apparently."
I slept in my office on the couch, which I do sometimes when things get busy and I'm simply not in the mood to go home.Like last night.
But last night, I didn't bother with the usual website to order a girl for a casual fuck. The days I brought random women into my office, fucked them on the couch, and dismissed them with a wad of cash, are gone. It's been a while since I've indulged in that kind of pleasure. Life has been too chaotic and demanding, and somehow, fucking random chicks hasn't crossed my mind in some time.
The problem is, ever since I stumbled upon my head accountant's unexpected nudes, my libido has gone through the roof, raging like a fucking beast. Speaking of my head accountant, Mindy has been away from the office since Friday. I can't help but wonder if there's a connection between her absence and those photos.
I'll find out.
I shrug nonchalantly. "I’m done with Elena anyway," I tell Pavel. "If she wants to be with her new boyfriend, so be it. Suits me fine."
Pavel shakes his head in disapproval. "Still, this is highly disrespectful to you and the entire Bratva. For an arranged bride to simply run off with some side piece..."
"Her loss," I interject coolly. "Elena was nothing more than a means to an end - solidifying ties with the Kubikovs through marriage. I barely knew the woman. Only met her a few times and none of those times did she move anything in me. And it was pretty clear that she felt the same about me."
Pavel lets out a scoff and looks away. "You and I both know that a leader without a spouse or children is seen as vulnerable. It makes people question your ability to lead us."
"You know well why I don't want children, Pavel," I growl. "I've lost a kid once. Never again."
He nods, his eyes flickering with understanding. "I know, boss. But you can't keep living in the past, grieving over Cordelia. She was a special kid, sure. But we both know that the Bratva doesn't give a fuck about your losses. A childless leader? To them, that means you're weak and a perfect target. Fucking wolves like Leonid Shrikov are constantly sniffing for opportunities to make moves against our territory."
I clench my jaw. "I know that, Pavel. You don't need to give me a fucking lecture."
"Listen to me, boss," he persists. "Cordelia will always hold a place in your heart and I get that. But you gotta move on. Find yourself a good woman. Fuck her senseless and put some babies in her. They'll love you and you'll love them. They'll help you forget about your loss. And it'll only strengthen your position in the Bratva."
I lean back, steepled fingers pressed against my lips as I consider his words. As much as Elena's abrupt departure means little to me personally, Pavel isn't wrong about the optics.
"I'm not as stupid as you think I am, Pavel. I know I’ll need an heir sooner or later. But right now, this is the last thing on my mind. I have a lot going on."
"Like what?" he asks.
I shoot him a look. "Like my mother's illness. Then there's Global Media with all the new contracts coming in. And we need to get new Tramoxine samples to replace the ones that sank to the bottom of the fucking ocean. Not to mention the Shirkov-kidney."
"Yeah, the fucking kidney.” Pavel scoffs. “Shirkov is getting impatient. Her daughter is running out of time. But once this kidney shit is sorted, we need to get you a wife. Top priority, boss."
"Sort out the cargo first, then worry about finding me a wife,” I say, slightly annoyed.
"Fine," Pavel says. “I will get that new cargo shipped. In the meantime, maybe take a look around the wife market." He gives me a sidelong look. "Maybe you already have some prospects in mind, boss?"
I don't miss his carefully weighted tone. I don't answer right away. Instead, my mind races, conjuring up images of Mindy's seductive photos and her video. I just can't seem to get her out of my fucking mind.
That slick pussy is begging to be licked. I want to devour her, to make her scream my name while she cums on my cock. I want to make her mine. Fucking mine. Speaking of which, I must find out why the fuck she didn’t turn up in the office today.
Maybe she believes she got fired because of those photos, but that's not the case. Her role within the company changed. I just need to have a conversation with her, in person.
"Nope, not yet," I quickly lie to Pavel, shutting down any further thoughts. "But this time, I will take matters into my own hands and find someone myself instead of relying on an arranged match."
Pavel nods, understanding that I don't want to be pushed about my plans any further. "Alright, boss. I'll drop it for now," he says, but then adds with a knowing smirk, "But don't think I haven't noticed you've been distracted these last few days. Whoever she is, she must be something special."
His words hit closer to home than he realizes. The fucker knows me too well. That’s what happens when you work together every day. I maintain my poker face, but my mind immediately drifts back to the video of Mindy pleasuring herself.
"Focus on replacing our cargo, not my fucking private life, bratan . I reply, trying not to sound too irritated.
Pavel doesn’t need to know the truth, at least not yet. The truth that I've already made up my mind about Mindy Williams. I will make her my wife and the mother of my future heir. She doesn't know it yet, but her life is about to take a major turn. I'll personally make sure of that.
Sure, the decision might seem sudden, but it's been brewing in my mind ever since I saw those goddamn nudes. My hot chief accountant isn't just a pretty face with a gorgeous body - though she's got both for sure. She's also smart, capable, and has proven that time and again in the cutthroat world of finance. She's got the brains to keep up with me and the backbone to stand her ground. That’s a rare and valuable combination in my world.
My train of thought is abruptly broken as Pavel rises. "Shall we head to the New York High event then, boss? Kevin says he arranged some special entertainment just for our unit this evening." Pavel grins, his eyes glinting in the dim light. "Who knows? You just might find Elena’s replacement at the bar?"
I already have. The more I think about it, the more I want Mindy as Elena’s replacement. I want her by my side, in my bed, carrying my children. It's more than lust – somehow, it feels like a bone-deep certainty that she's meant to be mine.
The thought of Mindy being pregnant with my child sends yet another jolt of possessive desire through me. But then I remember Maurice's words about her fertility issues. The IVF treatment that didn't happen because Maurice gambled the money away. For a moment, I feel a flicker of concern, but I push it aside. In today's world, there are solutions to fertility struggles - IVF, surrogacy, you name it. I have the means to make it happen and ensure top-of-the-line care for her. Money is meant for these situations after all.
I rise from my chair as well, smoothing out the wrinkles on my suit. Pavel's right. These last few days were fucking long. We both deserve to let loose for a night.
"Let's go," I tell my second-in-command. "And we better get some special entertainment for the money I paid Kevin.”
Pavel's eyebrows shoot up. “How much you pay him?”
“Fifty grand.”
Pavel stops and looks at me. "Fifty grand? Damn, boss. You ordered the New York Philharmonics to play for us?"
“Just one singer. Kevin said he’s got someone who’s worth that kind of cash.” I reply, feeling a spark of anticipation. Fucking Kevin better stay true to his word. Whatever he’s got lined up, it better be worth my money. After the week I've had, I need something spectacular to take my mind off things.
***
Less than twenty minutes later, we’re on the way to the New York High event in SoHo Manhattan, with Pavel driving. Like a sailboat, my Bentley glides smoothly across the busy streets of New York City. We’re both quiet until Pavel breaks the silence.
"How’s your mother doing, boss?" he asks.
I let out a weary sigh, rubbing at my temples as unwanted feelings of her deteriorating state resurface.
"Not well, Pavel. Vascular dementia is a bitch. Some days she seems like her old self, and on others..." I trail off, shaking my head. My mother's condition is an extremely sensitive topic to me.
Sensing the tension in my tone, Pavel shoots me a glance, then pulls the car over to the side of the road, bringing it to a halt. He turns to face me directly. He waits patiently, recognizing this is an extremely rare moment of vulnerability I'm allowing him to witness.
"I'm a grown ass-man, bratok ," I mutter gruffly. "I’m not going to go all emotional over this shit. People get sick all the time, and eventually, we all die. It’s called life." My voice cracks, but I push the feelings down. Maron Korolev never fucking cries and he’s not about to start now.The last time I allowed myself to cry was when Cordelia died.
Pavel is definitely sensing my emotional battle because he just sits there, looking at me with empathy in his eyes, waiting for me to continue. He almost looks like a fucking therapist. The only thing missing is a pair of round-shaped glasses, sitting on the tip of his nose. I wonder what the fuck he’s been spending his free time with, lately; binge-watching Doctor Phil or what the fuck?
Whatever it is that he’s doing, it seems to be working, because I suddenly feel like speaking up. I clear my throat and start talking, without allowing my surfacing emotions to control me. "My mother isn’t getting better, Pavel. Every day, she keeps losing her grip on reality. She'll get up in the middle of the night, wandering around the house, looking for Cordelia. Or she'll sleep through the afternoon and then be wide awake at 3 AM, insisting it's time for breakfast." I squeeze my eyes shut briefly. "And she never fucking stops asking about Cordelia. Calling out for her all the fucking time, like she's forgotten she's dead."
" Blyad ." Pavel says, "I'm sorry, boss. That fucking sucks."
I scoff. "It is what it is, bratok . You think you’re tough and prepared to face anything, but man…" I shake my head. "Never let yourself go demented like that. It will drive your entire family up the fucking wall and turn the people around you into nervous wrecks." I let out a harsh exhale, running a hand over my face roughly. "Fuck… you satisfied with my answer to your question about my mother?"
Pavel's hand lands on my shoulder, giving it a comforting squeeze. It’s strange to think how much the camaraderie we formed through Bratva wars and bloodshed is in contrast with him listening to me pouring my fucking heart out.
"I’m here for you, boss,” is all he says.
"You know I know," I nod, steadying my breath. "Enough family shit for now." I shoot him a sidelong glance. "Let's go hit that club and have a good time."