Page 19 of Echoes of Sin

But before I could get to Brooke, I had to deal with business first, and the top priority today was the person on the other end of my ringing cellphone. The sooner I answered, the sooner the call would be over. “Uncle Oleg. Hello.”

“Ilya, I was beginning to think you were ignoring me,” he answered in stiff, formal English. There was static on the line reminding me that he was still in Russia, sometimes the connection sounded as though he was in the next room, other times as though he was on the moon.

“Of course not. Things have been busy, as I’m sure you understand.”

“I have to admit that I had my doubts this was the right move, but you have made it a success. Just six weeks in and the profits are above what I anticipated.”

My shoulders relaxed slightly, but there was no relaxing when you were in the bratva. There was always someone looking to take you down a peg, replace you, or worse, end you and take over your territory. “It is going well.”

“I am proud of you, Ilya. Your father would be proud of you as well.”

He knew how much those particular words meant to me. “Thank you, Oleg.” My primary goal in coming to America was to implement my father’s plans for me and to make him proud. My father was the reason why I’d done all of this, not my uncle. Oleg was simply a means to an end. As my pakhan, I needed his permission to move forward with my plan. But now that it was a success, there was little he could do to stop me.

“As the Americans say, keep up the good work.” Oleg laughed and I rolled my eyes.

“Thank you for believing in me, Oleg.” I said what was expected of me while Oleg continued laughing.

“Thank you for lining my pockets and making me look good, Ilya. But be careful, nephew, there are many who are unhappy with your arrival in the States and your success.”

“I am always careful,” I assured him. Oleg was family, but he was also the head of our legitimate business, and he wouldn’t hesitate to feed me to the wolves to save himself or the Kuznetsov Group. “Goodbye.”

I rubbed my temples when the call was over and shook off the memories that never failed to crop up when I spoke to my uncle. Inevitably, his existence made me think of my father, Oleg’s brother, and his premature death at the hand of an unknown gunman. I spent years in search of the person who took my father away from me and came up empty, but now, with distance, I had discreetly resumed the hunt. When I found the person responsible, I would make them pay. I made the vow at my father’s gravesite, and I would not, under any circumstances, forget it.

My phone buzzed, a reminder that I was due at Adonis in fifteen minutes for my Friday meeting with Brooke. I was far more excited about it than I should be, but since she’d cancelled last week, I hadn’t seen her in far too fucking long.

When I arrived at the Greek cafe, Brooke was already there. She sat at a small table that didn’t offer room for privacy or intimacy, looking completely comfortable in her skin. She was so fucking beautiful, sitting there, completely unaware that every male gaze feasted on her beauty.

She crossed her legs, drawing attention to fitted slacks that clung to her thighs and calves, and probably her ass too. The gauzy pink blouse she wore highlighted her breasts and showed off just a hint of cleavage.

I stepped inside the restaurant, ignoring the smiling hostess in my hurry to get to Brooke. “Ah, I see you have decided to show up this week.” I knew taunting her wouldn’t get me what I wanted, but I also found that I couldn’t help myself. Fighting with Brooke was almost as fun as fucking her.

She didn’t show any indication that she was surprised by my arrival as she looked up at me with a bored expression. “As we agreed to last week.”

“We agreed on every week,” I reminded her, and took my seat across from her.

“It was unavoidable,” she said, as if that were explanation enough. “I’m here now.” Brooke was ice cold today and it should have annoyed me, but it didn’t. “Things are looking good,” she said, jumping into business without preamble.

I wasn’t ready for business talk yet, and I was the client, so instead of replying, I flagged down a waitress. “I’ll have the grilled octopus, couscous, and veggie grill, and she will have the grilled lamb and a Greek salad. Two shots of ouzo as well.”

Immediately, Brooke shook her head. “That’s not necessary. I’m not hungry and I am working.”

“I am working as well,” I said. “I forget how stiff you Americans can be about alcohol.”

“Yes,” she rolled her eyes, “wouldn’t want the person in charge of your money to be clear headed, would we?”

I laughed. “You are funny, Brooke.” I turned back to the waitress who seemed to be confused about what to do. “Bring both, please.”

“You’re ordering for me?” Brooke protested.

God, I loved how fiery she was. As a teen she was such a meek little thing, but now I realized I enjoyed her spirit, more than her acquiescence. “So, what do you want to order?”

“I said I was fine.”

I shrugged off her plea. “Humor me.”

She glared at me for a long time before she finally realized that I would not change my mind. “Fine. I’ll have the grilled lamb and a Greek salad, no ouzo though, sparkling water will do,” she said to the waitress. “Consider yourself humored.”

“Thank you.” I flashed a triumphant smile at guessing correctly what she would choose, and then gave her a moment to get her anger worked out so we could enjoy this little reprieve from our regular lives. “Tell me, Brooke, what have you been up to since we last saw each other?”

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