Page 25 of Ruthless Lullaby

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, recognizingthis 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?

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