Page 13 of Echoes of Sin

With a triumphant grin, Bradley rushed from the club and returned with a case of Brotherhood Vodka. “We can offer up bottle girls for opening weekend if you’d like.”

The idea of employees I hadn’t vetted coming in didn’t sit well with me. I couldn’t have strangers wandering around my club. I inspected the bottles and their seals to ensure nothing had been tampered with. “I don’t think that will be necessary.”

After more niceties, Bradley Newlander was gone.

“Fuck,” Dmitri groaned. “That vodka is delicious.”

I laughed. “Isn’t it?”

“Fucking bro,” he mumbled.

“Also true. But it is good, and people will pay a premium for it, so let’s focus on opening night. Okay?”

“Whatever you say,” he replied with a grunt before he poured another shot of the open bottle Bradley left behind. “Let’s do this.”

Chapter Eight

Brooke

I don’t care what Ilya thinks. I repeated that sentence to myself at least one hundred times from the moment I woke up on Friday morning. I repeated the words when I decided to curl my hair rather than fasten it into my usual bun, and again when I dressed carefully in a dress that highlighted all the shades of green in my eyes. I told myself I was wearing my nude stilettos because I needed the confidence to face him without succumbing to anger—or tears—and no other reason.

As I approached Club Envy, I felt a sense of foreboding when I looked at the darkened club, as a venue for our meeting it didn’t look very promising or open. The front door was locked, but I heard noises on the other side. I knocked with the side of my fist, impatient and annoyed because it was Ilya’s idea to meet here, probably to screw with my head, and he was nowhere to be found.

The door opened abruptly and a man with black hair and pale blue eyes appeared, dark brows pulled into a steep frown. “What is it?”

“I’m Brooke Watts, from Montrose Accounting. Mr. Kuznetsov asked me to meet him here,” I looked down at my phone, “ten minutes ago.” I didn’t bother to hide my annoyance.

The man nodded and pressed his back against the door as he waved me inside. “Things are busy today,” he said, as if that was an explanation.

“That is the nature of business,” I snapped, and looked around at the newest nightclub taking the city by storm. It was black and red, leather and velvet all around, tacky but high-end exclusive club tacky. There were men and women dressed in all black rushing around like the club would open in an hour rather than eight hours from now.

If the buzz was anything to go by, Ilya had a success on his hands. Not that I cared, but the more money he made, the better it would be for Montrose. And as long as I kept him happy, Ruben would pay for my last year of college, and I’d have my degree.

Everybody was a winner.

The darkness of the nightclub gave way to a dimly lit hall that opened up into an office that was bright and airy. In the middle of the room behind a large, imposing desk sat the man I was here to see and the reason for my poor, battered heart.

“Brooke.” He flashed a wide and welcoming smile as he stood and motioned me inside. “I’m glad you made it, though I would be happier if you were on time, this is getting to be a habit of yours.”

I glared at him, shooting daggers at his handsome face and expensive suit. “I was here on time, early in fact. Too bad I was left waiting outside because you didn’t bother to tell anyone you had a meeting.”

His smile faded. “Brooke, I’m sorry.”

I brushed off his attempt at an apology. “Let’s just get this over with.” This particular apology wouldn’t help, and if anything, it would only remind me of other things he should be sorry for, but didn’t know enough about to actually be sorry.

“If you insist.”

“I do.” I pulled out a few notes I jotted down and kept my gaze fixated on those scribbled words. “So far, everything looks good with your books. Be more conscientious about receipts and business expenses. In fact, feel free to send them to me at the moment of purchase so even if you lose them, they’re recorded on your books.”

“So, contact you anytime, then?”

I rolled my eyes. “Feel free to email me at any time and I will make sure that your expenses are reflected accurately in your ledger.” My spine was ramrod straight, my lips pinched into a thin line, and my gaze anywhere but on Ilya.

“You hate me,” he stated matter of factly. “Why?”

“I don’t know what you mean, Mr. Kuznetsov. I am just here to keep you updated on your financial accounts.” That sounded believable. Right?

“Stop with the Mr. Kuznetsov bullshit, Brooke.”

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