Page 118 of Sinful Games

"The doctor told Valeria she probably only has a few days left..." I whispered, arms crossed, trying to hold back the tears.

The room fell into a hush as he lowered his glass.

"Come here."

I got up and made my way over to him as he made space for me to sit on his lap. His hand gently caressed my cheek while the other wrapped around my waist, holding me close.

"She's been through so much these past few years," I said, tears welling up. "But now, she needs peace. She deserves to find peace."

He nodded silently, pulling me even closer until I could bury my face in his neck, hugging him tight. His hand continued to stroke my back reassuringly.

"She's been a fighter, but even the bravest souls must eventually find their rest,” he said softly.

Then, suddenly, the cries of our son echoed through the hallway. With a chuckle, he kissed my shoulder and reluctantly let me go, urging me to finish my dinner while he tended to put our little one to sleep.

Yep, no doubt about it, he's the besthubbyin the world.

Chapter

Thirty-Nine

“Everything you can imagine is real.”

?Pablo Picasso

Alexsei

I glared at the ugly mugs staring back at me, fighting the urge to unleash a string of curses under my breath. Lighting my cigarette, I tried to shift my focus away from the morons in the room. I had way better things to do on a fucking Tuesday afternoon than sit in this dark, dreary place, dealing with their bullshit and incompetence.

With Igor off in Colombia, Volk and I were drowning in endless meetings. I couldn’t fucking wait to get the hell out of there and back home to my little family.

"Maybe we can try importing some new shit from Europe?" Kievnor mumbled nervously.

I snorted, grinding my cigarette butt into the ashtray. "If I kept taking advice from losers like you, Kievnor, I’d still be scraping by on the streets and eating fucking rats. So do us all a favor and shut the fuck up."

Silence fell like a heavy blanket in the room, none of the men daring to break it for a full minute. My thoughts drifted back to my wife and son, their faces flashing vividly in my mind. A small smile crept onto my lips. I had only left them three hours ago, and I already fucking missed them terribly.

"I can hack into the Mayor’s system and see who’s been supplying him with drugs. It’ll take me two seconds," Fronik declared, breaking the tense silence.

The five men exchanged wary glances, each daring the other to speak. I glared at Fronik, a scrawny 6-foot nerd barely out of his teens. Sure, he was a genius with computers and hacking, but he was a total fucking waste of space otherwise.

“We already fucking know,” Volk snapped. "What we want to know now is how the hell you’re gonna win back the money we lost because of your sorry asses."

The tension in the room thickened as Volk’s words hung in the air, sparking an argument among the men. Accusations flew back and forth until Kievnor, in a moment of misplaced bravado, uttered something particularly foolish.

"That’s fucking bullshit, Volk! We did what we could with what we had," Kievnor spat, his voice trembling with defiance.

That was the last straw for me. Fed up with their incompetence and bickering, I rose from my seat, reached for my gun, and aimed it squarely between Kievnor’s eyes. The sound of the gunshot echoed through the room as I pulled the trigger, putting an end to this fucking useless meeting once and for all.Finally.

I won’t have to hear his fucking annoying voice again.

"So," I said, scanning their fucking ugly faces, each wearing a mix of fear and disbelief. "Who wants to be next?"

“How’s Marina?”

Volk gave me a hard look as we made our way to the elevator. “Fuck off.”

I smirked. “Ah, envy doesn’t suit you, Mikhail. Not everyone’s lucky enough to have a knockout wife and an adorable chubby baby like mine. Maybe some plastic surgery could work wonders for you, you know?” I jabbed the fifth-floor button the moment the elevator doors sealed shut behind us. “Who knows? Maybe it’ll even add a little spice to your sad existence,” I added with a grin.

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