Page 6 of Brutal Monster
"Mr. Zhukov," I say quietly. "I should make something clear."
"Yes?"
"If we proceed with this arrangement, it will be as equals. Partners in every sense. I won't be subordinate, not even in appearance."
He stops walking, turns to face me fully. The intensity in his eyes makes my breath catch.
"I wouldn't want you any other way." He takes my hand, raises it to his lips. "But partners share, Inez. Power. Responsibility. Pleasure."
His lips brush my knuckles, and electricity shoots up my arm.
"Professional boundaries, Mr. Zhukov," I manage to say.
"For now." He releases my hand. "But I should warn you—I'm very good at crossing boundaries when the time is right."
The lawyers descend upon us before I can respond, ushering us toward the conference room with their paperwork and agendas. But as I walk, I'm acutely aware of Vanya beside me, the lingering warmth of his touch, and the dangerous possibility that this arrangement might become more than just business.
I can't allow that. Control is survival. And Vanya Zhukov threatens my control in ways I never anticipated.
CHAPTER THREE
VANYA
"Let me be clear, Mr. Zhukov, these terms are absurdly one-sided."
I lean back in my chair, watching Anton pace the conference room like a caged bear. My lawyer's face is flushed with indignation as he jabs his finger at the contract spread across the polished table. Outside, the gala continues, the dull roar of music and conversation seeping through the closed doors.
"They're asking for full autonomy over her family's operations while gaining access to our distribution networks. She maintains separate finances. And this clause here—" Anton flips to page seven, tapping furiously, "—gives her the right to nullify the arrangement with minimal penalties if you, and I quote, 'interfere with her business decisions.'"
I take a slow sip of vodka, savoring the burn. "Is that all?"
Anton's head snaps up. "All? Mr. Zhukov, with respect, this isn't a marriage contract. It's a hostile takeover disguised as an alliance."
"Sit down, Anton."
He obeys, but his leg bounces beneath the table. Nervous energy. He's been with me for fifteen years, handlednegotiations that would make federal prosecutors weep. I've never seen him this agitated.
"What exactly troubles you about Ms. Bravo's terms?" I ask, my voice deliberately calm.
"Everything! She wants access to our shipping routes, our political connections, our muscle when needed—while offering only nominal integration of her cartel's operations." Anton loosens his tie. "And the personal terms are equally unbalanced. Separate residences when desired. No obligation for children. Freedom to travel without consultation."
I study the amber liquid in my glass. "Inez values her independence."
"She values your resources while giving up nothing of substance." Anton leans forward, lowering his voice. "Walk away. Or at minimum, counter with terms that don't make you look like a lovesick fool."
I set my glass down, the sound sharp in the quiet room. "Careful, Anton."
He doesn't flinch. Loyal men can speak the truth. It's why I keep him.
"You've spent years building this empire," he continues. "Your father?—"
"My father would have seen the strategic value."
"Your father would never have accepted such terms from a woman."
I smile thinly. "Perhaps that washislimitation."
Anton stares at me, realization dawning in his eyes. "This isn't about business for you."
