Page 11 of Tarnished Tyrant (Zhukova Bratva 1)

“What?” I snap. “What do you want me to do about it? This is the place my company booked for us to stay.”

“You mean Roger.”

“Yes, Roger. My boss. He booked the rooms and this is where we’re staying.”

Elise crosses her arms. “I don’t know why I’m being punished, too. I’m not the one who turned him down.”

“I’m not being punished.”

That’s a lie. It is entirely like Roger to make my life at work hell because I won’t sleep with him. Elise is right—I should report him to HR or something.

But fuck, I need this job. I needed it before Elise lived with me, but now, I definitely can’t be toeing the poverty line while I’m responsible for a teenager.

Elise deserves something resembling stability for once in her life. I have to be that something.

Which means I have to put up with handsy assholes in order to secure a paycheck. There are worse things in the world. I’m tough; I can survive. I’ve survived for a long time just to make it here.

Elise spins around and throws open the curtains to the only window. Immediately, we’re greeted with a stunning view of… the graffitied, soot-stained brick building next door.

“You’re right. This doesn’t look like a prison cell at all,” she drawls. “This place is great. Ten stars.”

I groan and rummage through my suitcase. “I’d love it if you could at least pretend to have a good time while we’re here.”

Elise studies the bed for a moment before changing her mind and perching on the edge of the armchair in the corner. A puff of dust rises out of the cushions, swirling around in the dingy light coming through the window.

“But I’mnothaving a good time,” she pouts.

“You’ve made that abundantly clear. That’s why I said ‘pretend.’ I have to be here for work, so let’s just get through this and then we can go home, okay?”

“To your apartment, you mean?”

I close my eyes and take a deep breath.

Teenagers are people, too. My sister has been through a hard time. It’s not her fault. I need to cut her some slack.

Did I really expect her to be excited about having her own room and thank me every day for giving her a warm bed to sleep in? Well, maybe. But I’m wiser and less idealistic now.

I release the breath in a whistle between pursed lips. “Yes. To my apartment. Where you now live. We won’t be here long. Maybe a week.”

“A week?” Elise exclaims. “I thought it was only three days!”

“Oh, you don’t listen when I ask you how your day was, but you listen when I explain our travel itinerary?”

I slip out of my jeans—the jeans that still smell like Handsome Stranger—and pull on a pair of black, high-waisted slacks. If the clock above the television is right, I have twenty minutes to get across town to the offices of Zhukova Incorporated.

“Belle!” Elise cries out. “Answer me!”

I shrug on a pale pink blouse and button it. “Anyway—yes, a week. That original three-day plan was from before Roger bailed on me. Now, I’m doing this on my own. It’s for a big company, and things might take longer.”

“Call someone to come help,” she practically begs. “Like… like Georgia. She’s your friend.”

“She’s my coworker.” The admission feels embarrassing. I really need more friends. “And no. I’m doing this alone. Can I trust you to stay here while I’m gone?”

Elise huffs, pouting her lower lip out. She looks so much like our mom when she pouts, but with her dad’s reddish blonde hair and green eyes. It makes me shiver every time.

“What am I supposed to do for food?”

I pull a twenty out of my purse and leave it on the TV stand. “You can walk to the bodega on the corner and then back again. No further.”

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