Page 11 of Echoes of Sin

“I was,” I agreed with a nod. “But only because I fell for a lie. I’m sure your skills have improved immensely over the years.”

His jaw clenched in the first real sign of emotion I’d seen other than his outburst at the hostess. “I left Winter Valley thinking I would be back after the New Year because that was always the plan. However, my father was killed on New Year’s Eve and everything in my life changed.”

“I’m sorry for your loss,” I said sincerely.

“So you forgive me?”

Typical. “No, I don’t forgive you. There are phones in Moscow and even email. If you’d wanted to reach out, you would have. Instead, I never heard from you again. I understand what you were going through, but that doesn’t change how I feel.” That night had been special to me. It had been magical, and Ilya had tainted my memories with his inconsiderate behavior. It was like it meant nothing to him when it had meant everything to me.

“I wanted to call you.” His tone was low and sincere, free of the charm he gave away so freely.

I would’ve liked to believe him, to have the ability to believe, him but he was a big part of why I was so cynical about love and jaded where men were concerned. “But you didn’t. You never did, so let’s just get back to the accounts.”

Finally, Ilya gave up just like I knew he would. He was too gorgeous to have to ever work hard at anything as easy as women, so he didn’t, and I pretended that I didn’t feel rejected all over again as I focused on work, the way I had from the moment I learned I was pregnant. “Do you have any questions?”

“No,” he said sullenly.

“If you have any, feel free to email me,” I told him, and slid my card across the table.

“I want you to deliver the weekly reports in person.”

Every part of me wanted to reject that idea, except I knew it wasn’t an idea, it was a command. He was my only client, and therefore I had no credible reason to deny him a weekly meeting. “Fine. I’ll reserve the meeting room for Fridays at two o’clock.” That would give me enough time to get myself under control before I picked up Karina from school.

Ilya shook his head. “I will call you at noon to let you know where we will meet. I am a busy man, and I cannot take time away for this. You will come to me.”

I was at my limit with this man. I’d had demanding clients over the years, but none at this level of arrogance and entitlement. “Fine. See you next Friday.”

I snatched my purse from the back of my chair and stood, glaring at the man who had somehow managed to make my life miserable in one short week. I can get through this. I had to, because Ilya wasn’t going anywhere this time and I needed this job, so I was stuck with him. “Goodbye.”

My legs shook as I left Olivio’s, and my eyeballs stung with the desire to cry. Ilya had already claimed too many of my tears and he didn’t deserve any more. I bit the inside of my cheek and walked down the street with my head held high, refusing to even cry in the privacy of my own car.

By the time I returned to my office, my emotions were mostly under control, the desire to cry had dissipated to a mild urge to scream and break things.

When Ruben checked in, I told him exactly what he wanted to hear. “The meeting was fine, he just wanted a lay of the land and to let me know he expects weekly reports until he says otherwise.”

“Good, good. Keep him happy, Brooke, and I’ll pay for your last two semesters to get your degree.”

There was nothing else he could have promised that would have ensured that I would figure out a way to play nice with Ilya for as long as I had to.

It was just one day a week, how hard could it possibly be?

Chapter Seven

Ilya

For the past few days Brooke dominated my thoughts. Specifically, her response to me. The anger and her seeming hatred baffled me. Eight years had passed, and I understood a certain amount of anger after the way I’d left her, especially after that incredible night we’d spent together. But hatred didn’t make sense, and I was determined to get to the bottom of it, sure there was some misunderstanding that I was unaware of causing her wild emotions. Because surely after eight years even if she had been angry at me, then that anger would have waned.

I comforted myself with the fact that her hatred still burned intensely, which meant, beneath that, she still cared. That meant there was still a chance to get to know her again. At least once a week I would get time with her, and I would make the most of it.

No woman in all the years since Brooke had ever interested me the way she had. Sure, I’d fucked plenty of beautiful women. They were difficult to escape when you were part of the Kuznetsov bratva. The pussy came easily and willingly, which was good when I needed to get my dick wet, but they were nothing to bother with out of the bedroom. Brooke was a different woman altogether.

Even now, I was curious about her. What had she been up to for the past eight years? Why was she a bookkeeper? There were so many things I wanted to know about her, things I could have found easily by having one of my security guys look into her, but that wasn’t how I wanted to do things with Brooke. I wanted—no—I needed her to share the details of her life with me, and she would. As soon as we got to the bottom of why she hated me.

A knock sounded on the office door at Club Envy, and a second later Dmitri appeared with a wary expression on his face.

I groaned and pushed away from my desk. “What is it now?” As much as I loved having my own territory and running shit the way I liked to run it, there was a constant stream of bullshit that tested my patience. “Well?”

“Nothing bad. There’s a bro here who has a new brand of vodka he’d like to sell here.”

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