Page 78 of Ruthless Lullaby

I raise my eyebrow, intrigued by her idea. A possessive part of me flares up at the thought of sharing her singing with my party guests, especially since we have some pretty prominent Bratva people present tonight. The idea of those fuckers’ eyes leering at my Mindy makes my jaw tense.

But I also like that Mindy is letting loose. She smiles at me with a mischievous glint in her eye. She's clearly tipsy, and that makes her even more attractive. Maybe I should allow it. It would make it even more satisfying to have her in my bed afterwards, knowing that I’m the only one who can have her.

"I handpicked the tune just for you," she encourages, trailing her fingers down my chest.

“Fine.” I nod in approval, giving her an appreciative grin. Only a few minutes later, she’s walking up to the small stage in the rear of the room, her hips swaying seductively with every step. As soon as the crowd notices her on stage, they fall silent, their eyes glued to her every move.

Mindy stands behind the microphone with confidence in her posture. "Good evening, ladies and gentlemen," she says, scanning the room before her gaze lands on me. She winks at me playfully. "I have prepared a few songs for our host, who also happens to be the man of the hour." She sweeps an arm out, keeping her eyes on me.

Then, she begins to sing. Music also comes through the speakers, following her low, smoky voice. It comes out as if she’s trying to caress the microphone, filled with a raw sensuality that sets my blood on fire. She closes her eyes and lets the music wash over her, her body gently swaying to the rhythm.

Holy mother of God.

She is beyond special.

I can't take my eyes off her. She looks almost as if she’s becoming one with the song, melting into its rhythm. Her face is a portrait of pure passion, dragging me along with her into the moment.

I saw her perform before, but I still can’t believe her talent. How is it that my former chief accountant is capable ofsomething like this? She should have pursued a career in music instead of fucking around with boring numbers.

Beside me, Timofey leans in, his breath tickling my ear. "You're one lucky motherfucker, you know that Maron?" he murmurs, his voice laced with equal parts envy and admiration. "Elena was a keeper but this girl... she's next level."

I nod, my eyes never leaving Mindy. "I know," I murmur. My voice comes out low and rough with desire. "She's in a league of her own."

As the song builds to a crescendo, Mindy's voice soars. The emotion in her is palpable. At that moment, I know with a bone-deep certainty that I would do anything just to keep her by my side. My cock is painfully hard as I anticipate the sex we'll have once all the guests leave.

When the final note hangs in the air and her set comes to a close, the room erupts into applause. Mindy opens her eyes, a slow, sensual smile curving her lips. She takes a bow, and as she straightens, she briefly glances at me.

"Thank you, ladies and gentlemen," she says with a sweet tone. "I hope you enjoyed the music." She turns towards me with a smile and adds, "And once again, happy birthday to our wonderful host, Mr. Maron Korolev."

But as the applause dies down, I notice a sudden shift in the atmosphere.

Mindy's still standing on stage, basking in the afterglow of her performance. But she must also feel the shift because her expression changes. Her eyes are wide open and her smile disappears, replaced by a look of shock and disbelief. She’s looking towards the entrance of the hall we’re in.

I turn around to see what caught her attention. When I finally see it, my blood runs cold in a mix of shock and anger.

Blyad.

Behind the crowd of people, stands a man. Scratch that, a manchild. A swaying manchild. And the very last fucking person I want to see tonight.

My wayward brother, aka. Mindy’s ex, aka. the new COO of my organ trade business.

My half-brother, Maurice.

Chapter Thirty

Maron

Maurice bursts into the room.

His bloodshot eyes are wild and his clothes are in disarray. His shirt hangs open, revealing his hairy chest and beer gut. Even his hair is in a goddamn mess.

It’s clear he drank his ass off.

With an unsteady sway, he makes his way through the crowd, his sneer oozing with spite as he takes in the scenery before him. A mix of irritation and pity surges in me. I want to punch him square in the nose, grab him by the balls, and toss him out of my mansion. But I can’t. I can’t fuck up my reputation in front of my guests. Not to mention that Mindy is also here. She still stands on stage, visibly shocked and confused at what Maurice is doing here.

Blyad.

This is not how I wanted Mindy to find out that her fucked-up ex-boyfriend is my own flesh and blood. A disturbing memory flashes through my mind - the naked photos she had willingly sent to Maurice. Well, she was going to. She ended up sending them to me, instead. Were those photos really meant to a screwup like my brother? How the fuck did she even put up with him for so long?

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