Page 7 of Ruthless Lullaby

I finish the call. This time, I pour myself a double shot of vodka and down it in one burning gulp. This is far from over. I will find that ship, even if I have to tear apart every fucking port from here to Moscow. And when I do, there will be hell to pay for whoever's responsible for this fuckup.

I glance at the clock. It’s only seven in the evening, which is relatively early. It’s not uncommon for me to stay at the office and catch some shut-eye on the couch if things get busy. Maurice, my wayward half-brother, is due to arrive soon, and I need to tie up some loose ends before his unwelcome presence darkens my doorstep.

Fucking Maurice. We were once close, a long time ago. But then, the death of our father drove a wedge between us. Many years have gone by and we only spoke a few times since.

With our inheritance, I chose the path of the wise, investing in legitimate businesses to mask the true nature of my power. Global Media, my crown jewel, grew so vast that I had to claim a skyscraper in the heart of New York to house it. It's the perfect facade for my true calling – the Tramoxine business. While the world sees me as a media mogul, they have no idea that Global Media's complex financial structure allows me to funnel money and resources into developing and distributingTramoxine under the radar. As my father always said, "In the Bratva, you have to have a legal business that covers up your illegal one."

Maurice, the fool, squandered his wealth on fleeting pleasures - whores and extravagant escapades - until he found himself destitute. Our conflicts over his reckless behavior have left us estranged, and I can only imagine the desperate circumstances that bring him crawling back to me now.

There’s a small ray of hope, though. In our last phone conversation, Maurice told me he'd pulled his shit together and found himself a steady girlfriend. They are even planning to start a family. Amen. Fingers crossed for the girl.

After making a few phone calls, I decide to call it quits for the day; it's Friday and I could use a break. Checking the clock again, I see that it's almost 8 pm. Maurice should have arrived by now, but my half-brother is notorious for being late.

I stretch my arms and let out a loud yawn. I’m fucking tired. My company, Global Media, has been gaining new contracts left and right, but it also brings along other concerns. Like the fact that Ms. Mindy Williams, my chief accountant, seems to have something else on her mind whenever I see her. It also doesn’t help that every time I see her, my cock gets hard. “No, Maron, you don’t fuck your chief accountant,because you will suck cock with your finances afterwards,” -I remind myself every single time she appears.

If she wasn't so fucking gorgeous, I'd fire her. Or maybe not. Mindy Williams is a valuable asset to Global Media. She knows our finances in and out, when she is not fucking distracted that is. Like she was just a couple of hours ago. She made me mad and I wanted to punish her right there and then,by tearing off all her clothes, and taking her naked body against the wall.

Yes.

Maybe a little punishment would teach her a lesson.

A ping interrupts my thoughts, and I glance over to my phone, just to see another email arrive. To hell with it. I can't handle any more emails today. All I want is to go home, unwind, and fuck some girl before I commit myself to a stupid, old-school Bratva thing: an arranged marriage.

I've only met Elena Kubikova two or three times. Sure, she’s a nice girl, but she didn't initiate anything earth-shattering in me. Elena will be a nice warm body to fuck. That's pretty much it.

The main advantage is that Elena is the daughter of Grigory Kubikov, the head of the Kubikov Bratva. With the marriage, the two families will merge, which will solidify my position in the Bratva and give protection from other families, especially Leonid Shirkov. Who, by the way, is waiting for that fucking kidney to save his daughter’s life.

I puff air out of my face.

How on earth am I going to fix this shit I'm in?

Chapter Four

Maron

What a lousy fucking day.

As I rise from my leather chair, the vodka hits me hard. My head is buzzing but in a good way. My mind is cloudy and my body is relaxed, except for one part- my cock is half-hard. I'll either hit up a club and find some easy broad to fuck, or I'll call Elena, my fiancé. Give her a good pounding and send her home. There’s no way I’m letting her stay over - I'll have enough of that bullshit once we're married. Right now, all I need is a release from this shitstorm of a day.

I glance at my phone. The email notification is still flashing on the screen. I really don't want to deal with one single email now, especially with my mind being one big motherfucking mass of confusion. But to my surprise, the subject line shows a heart emoji.And the sender is Mindy Williams.

Hm.

And again: hm.

It’s way past working hours, but I decide to open the email. I tap on the email and my jaw instantly drops. And then it drops even more. Not only that. My cock goes from half-hard to rock-hard in under a second.

Holy fucking shit!

Is this…?

I lean closer to the screen. This is definitely not something you get to see every day.

My chief accountant, Ms. Mindy Williams' gorgeous, naked body fills my phone screen. It’s definitely her. And she looks fucking flawless. Even more so than I imagined. And if that’s not enough, there are more photos of her attached to email.

No, you definitely don’t get to see an email with your hot chief accountant’s nudes every day.Tenof them.

All naked.

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