Page 98 of Inked Adonis

This time, however, Ilya insisted we needed to meet in the boardroom. Today. Bright and early.

Because the fucker is up to something.

Almost as if he can read my mind, Ilya cranes in my direction. A smile curls over his lips as he drums his fingers again. Then he turns to our father, whose eyes are fixed on the projector screen showing the quarterly report.

Nova was being too kind when she described him last night. “Psychotic asshole” doesn’t even begin to cover it.

“This is more of the same,” our father grumbles, circling his finger to speed through the last few slides of the report. “The numbers are fine. Why do I need to be here?”

That makes me frown. My father can find endless material to complain about where I’m concerned, but the man has never seen a profit he didn’t like, no matter where it comes from. And my quarterly figures are through the fucking roof.

Which means Ilya didn’t bring Leonid here to bust my balls about the finances.

“I’ve seen enough,” Leonid declares a moment later. “Myles, turn this shit off. If that’s all, we can wrap things up here.”

“Wait.” Ilya stops him. “I have something more to show you, Otets.”

Our father’s lip curls under his salt-and-pepper mustache as his gaze bounces between us. An outsider would never know that he has a favorite son. But I’ve spent thirty-four years reading the lines in his face.

I know which way his favor blows.

“Very well,” he sighs. “Make it quick.”

Ilya hustles around the long table with the remote in hand as he changes screens. “I need to preface this by saying that thisinformation has been verified by multiple sources. I reviewed the?—”

“Get on with it, Ilyoshka,” our father snaps. “This isn’t a board meeting, so spare me the fucking foreplay. Just say your piece so we can move on.”

“You’re right: this isn’t a board meeting, Otets. Good thing, too.” Ilya turns to me, his eyes thinning out into accusatory slits. “I’d hate for the board members to know that their CEO is fucking an Andropov spy.”

The tone, the implicit violence, the mic drop melodramatics—Ilya thought he came here with my signed death warrant. There’s only one thing I can do to react.

Laugh.

I kick back in my chair with an uproarious cackle. Myles is frozen on the edge of the room, his hands fisted at his side as he waits to see what my father will do, but I can’t help but enjoy this.

My brother was deep inside the Andropovs’ newest employee—who also happens to be my ex-wife—on a Chicago rooftop within the last month, but he’s going to point the finger atme?

God, what can’t be accomplished with audacity like that? Hats off to him. He’s surprised even me by how fucking stupid he is—and I already had the bar for that placed somewhere around the seventh circle of hell.

Ilya sneers. “You’re laughing now, but I have proof. I have evidence that you are sleeping with the mole who is trying to bring down the Litvinov Group.”

“By all means, enlighten us.” I wave him on, crossing my feet on the conference table. “This meeting was dull. Let’s liven it up a little.”

Ilya looks to our father for support, but the man hasn’t moved. His hands are pressed together, his fingertips resting against the graying hair of his mustache.

He’s waiting.

“Play the damn tape already,” I bark, making my half-brother jump.

The flush in his cheeks makes it clear Ilya is annoyed to take an order from me, but it’s time to put up or shut up, so he truly has no choice. He presses a key on his laptop and the projector screen flares to life in brilliant resolution.

Immediately, I recognize both women sharing the big screen.

Katerina is tall and willowy on the right, in a barely-there pink dress and towering heels.

Next to her, wearing sweats, a t-shirt, and no accessories unless you count the four dog leashes strapped to her waist… is Nova.

“If it isn’t Sam’s two favorite women.” Ilya gloats. “The Ghosts of Mistakes Past and Present.”

---