Chapter Five

Ilya

I should be doing at least one thousand other things to make sure I was starting off on the right foot, but instead I was parked in my car and watching Brooke as she strode towards the building that housed Montrose Accounting. She was more beautiful than ever in gray slacks that showed off long legs making purposeful strides towards the glass doors. The soft pink sweater was feminine and flattering and the matching pink heels made me smile for some reason.

I'd taken a liking to Brooke almost instantly back at college. She wasn't like the other girls, and not just because she was a scholarship kid from a middle-class family. Brooke was smart. No, that was not accurate, she was intelligent and did not hide it like most teenage girls did. Which only made me wonder what in the hell was she doing working for a guy like Ruben instead of a bigger firm—or even running her own accounting practice. Back then, she'd been determined to succeed and was ambitious, and now she was working so far beneath her level that it made me wonder even more about her life.

Whatever had happened, it was definitely my good fortune that she was at Montrose. It was just another perk of returning to this glorious city and this country where anyone could make something of themselves. With a wide smile, I pressed the button on my car to make a call.

"Montrose Accounting, this is Marnie speaking. How may I help you?"

"Good morning, Marnie. This is Ilya, a new client to the—"

"I know who you are, Mr. K." She laughed and continued typing. "How can I help you today?"

"I'd like to speak with Brooke, please."

"One moment," she said, and the line went silent before jazz music sounded.

A few seconds later, the music ended. "This is Brooke." Her tone was open and friendly yet professional.

I smiled. "Brooke, it's Ilya."

"Ilya." She said my name like it was a bad oyster. "What can I help you with?" She was all business, which I could respect, except it wasn't what I wanted.

"I'd like to meet with you to discuss my accounts."

Brooke didn't respond for so long I thought she might have hung up on me.

"You've had a week to set up my accounts and I'd like to make sure it's all done right." I expected the best from everyone who worked for me, and I didn't accept excuses.

"If you think I'm incapable of handling your accounts, Mr. Kuznetsov, I suggest you take it up with Mr. Montrose." With those words, she ended the call.

I couldn't help but smile. The Brooke I remember wasn't quite as feisty, but I always knew she had it in her. I called her back. Directly this time.

"This is Brooke."

"Good morning, Brooke, I think we might have gotten cut off there. What I meant to say is that we need to set up a time to meet go over my accounts."

There was a long silence that lasted well over a minute before she finally spoke, and when she did, her anger was barely concealed, but her professionalism was impressive. "I have an open slot from two until three today if that's soon enough for you to come into the office."

"And what, I wonder, is keeping you so busy that you don't have time to meet with your only client?" I was being an asshole and I knew it but riling her up was surprisingly fun.

"It's called work. You know, inputting purchases into the software and preparing for each of your business to start producing cash flow."

"Excellent. You can tell me all about it over lunch." I was eager to see her again after she ran from me the first time and ignored me the second time.

"Sorry, but I don't take confidential company information out of the office. Bad for business."

"Of course." I understood and respected her response, but that didn't mean I wouldn't get what I wanted. "Memorize what you have to so that you can explain it to me clearly. Over lunch. See you at Olivio's at noon," I responded, and ended the call before she could come up with another excuse to get out of having lunch with me.

As much as I loved verbally sparring with Brooke, there were other matters that required my attention before lunch. Club Envy was my first stop of the morning because it officially opens in just a few days. This nightclub was more high-end and exclusive than most, so it would do a steady business, but behind the club, or rather, underneath it, was the real money maker.

"These tables need to be closer." I wanted everything to be perfect, exactly the way I pictured it in my head. "It'll increase anxiety and encourage hopping to a hot table." Gamblers were ridiculous, superstitious people, which always worked in the house's favor.

The doors that lead to this part of the club were five inches thick and solid metal to make sure the players were safe from would-be thieves. The players would only be allowed down here through a personal invite and a password that changed nightly.

"Ilya, the booze isn't here yet." Dmitri's brows furrowed into a dark frown. "The shipment was supposed to arrive this morning," he said.

"I'll take care of it."

Dmitri shook his head. "I'll come with you."

"You think I can't handle myself?"

"You handled Calhoun just fine, boss. Maybe I want in on some of the fun you're having. And your safety is my top priority."

"Fine. Let's go stock this bar."

Dmitri was my oldest friend and the only person I missed other than my father when I was in America the first time. Over the years, we fought side by side, killed for each other and walked through hell together. He was my brother in every way except blood.

"Stock this bar," he repeated in an amused tone. "You sound like an American."

I laughed. "The language is like riding a bike, as they say."

"Or like shooting a gun," Dmitri joked. "It comes back to you as soon as your hand wraps around the cold steel."

"Exactly." We arrived at the depot quickly. It was conveniently located, which meant there was no good reason the first shipment hadn't arrived. My hands began to tingle as if they knew what came next.

Blood.

Lots and lots of blood.

After dealing with that particular problem, my knuckles were sore and swollen, but nothing a few painkillers won't fix. It wasn't how I wanted to meet Brooke for lunch, but business waited for no one.

Not even my first—and only—love.