Page 91 of Twisted Kings

“Err… I think the cat’s out of the bag…”

“What?”

Milo passed Kyril his phone. “What’s going on?” I asked. Mine was dead. Thanks to my depressive episode triggered by Dario and his big fucking mouth, I’d forgotten to charge it.

“Oh shit.” I peered over Kyril’s shoulder to see a video of Kyril and me with Thea sandwiched between us. It looked like someone had recorded us on a camera phone at the college bonfire party. While the video wasn’t as incriminating as, say, the sex tape with Cassian, me, and Thea, it was very clear Kyril and Thea were more than friends.

Well, shit. Kyril swore loudly.

“Someone uploaded it to X an hour ago, and it’s already gone viral.”

I grabbed the phone and began scrolling through the comments. Unsurprisingly, most of the comments were unkind. People were calling Thea a whore, a greedy slut, and worse.

None of them used such terms about me or Kyril. Social media was the worst. I fucking hated it at times.

“Least your profile is high enough to build a good following on OnlyFans now,” Dario pointed out with a smirk in my direction. “You should cash in while you’re trending.”

“Fuck off and die.”

41

Kyril

My father had become increasingly tetchy. Any minute now, and he’d unleash the hounds of hell to bring me back to London. He and Ekaterina normally spent the holidays at our mansion in Moscow, but this year, they’d stayed in the Mayfair mansion.

I guessed it had something to do with whatever deal he’d cooked up with Lucian Forsyth.

When my phone rang for the millionth time, I finally picked up.

“Otets.”

“Kyril, where the fuck are you?”

“With friends.”

“You should be here, not chasing pussy,” he snapped. “You’re my heir!”

“It’s New Year’s Eve. I’m sure you can cope without me.” I tucked my phone under my chin and buttoned my shirt. Declan’s club better be serving premium vodka tonight.

“It looks bad if my son can’t be bothered to show up for a party Ekaterina has spent months planning!”

A snort of laughter escaped. “I doubt Ekaterina did any of the work.”

“Do not insult my wife, Kyril,” Dad growled.

“Look, I’ll be back in a few days. Chill, old man.”

I ended the call and tucked my phone in my pocket.

As the heir to the Orliov Bratva, I had responsibilities to uphold, but I planned to move my base of operations to the States. Dad would not be happy about it, but the more I thought about it, the more it made sense.

The US represented a whole new and potentially profitable market for us. The family owned a casino in New Jersey. At the moment, it was little more than a blip on the balance sheet, but with a bit of work, it could become our flagship operation on the East Coast.

Dad didn’t need me in the UK. The only reason he’d sent me here was to pick up a college degree. Well, two years of school was more than enough to tell me I didn’t need a fucking college degree to run the Bratva.

Besides, Cassian had all the smarts we needed. I planned to make him the brains of my operation. Milo could manage the tech side of things, and Lan could schmooze the clients. I wasn’t sure if Dario planned to stick around, but I’d bring him on board if he wanted. The guy had proven himself in Italy, and I could see he was in love with my girl.

“Hogmanay is a big deal for us Scots,” Landon was telling Milo when I walked in.

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