Champagne Venom (Orlov Bratva, #1)(14)

It’s the skirt I can’t stop thinking about. It’s far too tight to be anything but trouble.

I spend the next twenty minutes “working,” which today means trying and failing not to think about the infuriating hellcat sitting outside my office right now. After getting nothing done, I decide to go get myself something to eat.

I tell myself that my craving for food has nothing to do with the fact that I’ll need to pass by Paige’s desk in order to satiate it.

She glances up when I walk out of my office room. “Can I get you something, Mr. Orlov?”

“No.” I don’t even glance in her direction. But I feel her eyes on me until I disappear from sight.

The lunchroom is nearly empty save for the big idiot sitting in the corner with his legs kicked up on the nearest table.

Konstantin raises his drink in greeting when he sees me. “Ahoy, cuzzo. Want a kombucha? There’s jasmine rose and green tea today. It’s all fuckin’ aces.”

I grimace and drop down at his table. “What are you doing here?”

“I was hungry,” he says with a shrug. “And since you don’t want me drinking the good stuff on the job, I’m forced to make do with this hippie-dippie bullshit. What are you doing here?”

“It’s the cafeteria. What the fuck do you think?”

“You, my friend, are a strict ‘work through lunch, dinner, and midnight snack’ kind of guy. If you’re here, something is wrong.”

“Nothing is wrong,” I snap, but it’s way too fast and angry to be plausible.

Konstantin snorts. “Do you want me to pretend I believe you? Or should I pretend I’m your therapist and get to the root of the issue?”

“The root of the issue” is the skirt sitting feet away from my office door. I decide to focus on something a little less volatile.

“Polytech should be mine already.”

“It’s a four-billion-dollar corporation and you’re acquiring it through a series of offshore shell companies,” Konstantin points out in a wry drawl. “These things take time, which I know you know. I figured you’d be happy we’re approaching the finish line.”

“I won’t be happy until the deal goes through.”

“It’s only been two weeks since you put this plan in motion. That’s a great timeline, all things considered. There haven’t been many setbacks.”

“It’s not fast enough.”

“Well, tough shit; that’s the way of the world. Speaking of setbacks,” Konstantin says with a grimace that usually precedes inconvenient news, “we have a missing money man.”

“And you’re telling me this… why?”

“You are the don,” he says simply. “One of your underlings has been stealing cash from the Bratva coffers. Now, he’s gone. I figured that’s news.”

“How much was taken?”

“About twenty thou, as far as we can tell. No hard evidence as such that it was this guy per se, but he disappeared right around the time the money did, so I’m calling a spade a spade. Did I use that expression right? I can never quite figure out what it means.”

“Small potatoes bullshit, Konstantin. Keep an eye out for him. If he turns up, then we’ll see to his punishment then. But I don’t want to waste resources trying to pinpoint a measly few thousand.”

Konstantin nods. “As you wish, Your Majesty.”

I roll my eyes and get to my feet. I thought I was hungry, but the walk here was enough to satisfy my pang. I turn and go back to my office, Konstantin shadowing my movements.

“Will you be at fam dinner this Friday?” he asks, slurping his kombucha as we go.

“No.”

He gasps. “Misha!”

“I have shit to do.”

“Try being the one who has to tell your mother that,” he gripes.

“My mother knows that my duty is to this Bratva.”

I start looking for Paige even before I turn the corner that leads to my office. When she comes into sight, she is still at her desk, nose buried in the NDA I left on her desk. The fact that she’s actually taking the time to read the damn thing is as impressive as it is irritating. She shouldn’t bother, though, seeing as how I could sum it up in a few short words: Don’t breathe anything to anyone or I’ll own your ass for life.

She glances up as we pass by her desk and her eyes flit to Konstantin. She gives him a barely-there smile. It’s friendly, nothing more, but my hackles rise nonetheless.

“Ms. Masters,” I growl, forcing her attention on me. “I told you I expected the NDA to be signed and delivered within the hour.”

She glances at the clock on the corner of her desk. “I still have thirteen minutes, sir.”

I ignore the jolt of sensation that her calling me “sir” sends to my nether regions. “Are you really reading the entire document?”

“I like to know what I’m signing before I sign it.”

“Given your history with leaping into ill-advised agreements, that seems surprising.” I run a hand through my hair. Jesus, this woman pisses me off without even trying. Without another word, I storm into my office.

I turn to shut the door behind me, but Konstantin is still standing in front of Paige’s desk. His smile is wide and blinding. Women find it charming, but I want to knock his teeth out.