Chapter 39
Chapter
Thirty-Nine
"Everything you can imagine is real."
― Pablo Picasso
Alexsei
I glared at the ugly mugs staring back at me, fighting the urge to unleash a string of curses under my breath. Lighting my cigarette, I tried to shift my focus away from the morons in the room. I had way better things to do on a fucking Tuesday afternoon than sit in this dark, dreary place, dealing with their bullshit and incompetence.
With Igor off in Colombia, Volk and I were drowning in endless meetings. I couldn't fucking wait to get the hell out of there and back home to my little family.
"Maybe we can try importing some new shit from Europe?" Kievnor mumbled nervously .
I snorted, grinding my cigarette butt into the ashtray. "If I kept taking advice from losers like you, Kievnor, I'd still be scraping by on the streets and eating fucking rats. So do us all a favor and shut the fuck up."
Silence fell like a heavy blanket in the room, none of the men daring to break it for a full minute. My thoughts drifted back to my wife and son, their faces flashing vividly in my mind. A small smile crept onto my lips. I had only left them three hours ago, and I already fucking missed them terribly.
"I can hack into the Mayor's system and see who's been supplying him with drugs. It'll take me two seconds," Fronik declared, breaking the tense silence.
The five men exchanged wary glances, each daring the other to speak. I glared at Fronik, a scrawny 6-foot nerd barely out of his teens. Sure, he was a genius with computers and hacking, but he was a total fucking waste of space otherwise.
"We already fucking know," Volk snapped. "What we want to know now is how the hell you're gonna win back the money we lost because of your sorry asses."
The tension in the room thickened as Volk's words hung in the air, sparking an argument among the men. Accusations flew back and forth until Kievnor, in a moment of misplaced bravado, uttered something particularly foolish.
"That's fucking bullshit, Volk! We did what we could with what we had," Kievnor spat, his voice trembling with defiance.
That was the last straw for me. Fed up with their incompetence and bickering, I rose from my seat, reached for my gun, and aimed it squarely between Kievnor's eyes. The sound of the gunshot echoed through the room as I pulled the trigger, putting an end to this fucking useless meeting once and for all. Finally.
I won't have to hear his fucking annoying voice again .
"So," I said, scanning their fucking ugly faces, each wearing a mix of fear and disbelief. "Who wants to be next?"
"How's Marina?"
Volk gave me a hard look as we made our way to the elevator. "Fuck off."
I smirked. "Ah, envy doesn't suit you, Mikhail. Not everyone's lucky enough to have a knockout wife and an adorable chubby baby like mine. Maybe some plastic surgery could work wonders for you, you know?" I jabbed the fifth-floor button the moment the elevator doors sealed shut behind us. "Who knows? Maybe it'll even add a little spice to your sad existence," I added with a grin.
"Keep talking, and I'll make sure your wife becomes a widow," Volk snapped back.
I let out a laugh and followed him down the hallway to the door on the far right.
Denis Krosovar swung the door open with a grin so fake, even a hyena couldn't replicate it. The guy had just been released from jail a week ago, but you'd think he'd been on vacation in the Maldives instead of behind bars. Being a politician had its perks—so much money that nothing could touch you except death. He'd already been sentenced a couple of years ago to ten years for assaulting his secretary and her husband and for embezzling $200k from a party colleague.
But then he got out only a week later.
Now, he'd just gotten out of jail for committing homicide. Shockingly for some but not for me, he only received a two-week sentence at home with an ankle bracelet because the judge claimed there wasn't enough proof. I guess the only proof the judge needed was the $250k deposited into his bank account to judge Krosovar not guilty.
Krosovar plopped down on his couch, where two naked girls lounged on their stomachs, munching on popcorn. One was blonde, the other a redhead, both with racks so big they could double as basketballs. I winced at the thought of lugging those around; it must be painful.
"What can I do for you gentlemen?" Krosovar asked, casually fondling the blonde's ass while she giggled.
"A deal," I replied, striding over to his fridge, grabbing a beer, and tossing one to Volk.
Krosovar might have been filthy rich, but his penthouse, with its 15 million rubles price tag, looked more like a frat house than anything classy. Thongs and bras were scattered everywhere, empty bottles of champagne and beer littered the floor, cocaine and ecstasy decorated the tables, and leftover fast food cluttered the kitchen. His place reeked of a mishmash of cheap perfume, food, sweat, and sex. What a fucking mess.
"A deal?" His brow arched, his hand still groping the girl's ass.
Volk settled onto the couch opposite him, and the redhead immediately sidled up to him, planting kisses on his neck as he lit his cigarette. This bastard didn't push her away; instead, he grabbed her tit and rolled her nipple between his fingers.
"We'll erase your debt to the Silas if you stop buying Vlad's shit and start buying from us again," Volk stated bluntly, the redhead making out with his neck.
Krosovar chuckled dismissively. "Never thought I'd see the day Vlad screwed you over, but here we fucking are."
I never expected Vlad to betray us either, but the knife he plunged into Igor's back was a real fucking eye-opener.
"Don't dwell on Vlad," I cut in, taking a swig of beer. "He's already dug his own fucking grave. You, on the other hand, still have a choice, Krosovar. What's it gonna be?"
I took a few steps towards him as Volk abruptly rose, dragging the giggling redhead away. As they vanished into the hallway, a door slammed shut behind them, followed by sudden, high-pitched moans echoing through the apartment.
I rolled my eyes. Leave it to Volk to think now's the perfect time for a quick fuck session.
Krosovar smirked. "You're kidding yourself, Romaniev. Vlad's shit might be dodgy, but it's way stronger than yours."
I leaned in closer, my patience wearing thin. "I'm offering your life, Krosovar. Take it," I said, reaching for my gun, "or leave it."
Krosovar's smirk faltered. He glanced towards the hallway where the moans continued, then back at me. After a tense moment, he nodded, his voice barely above a whisper. "Fine, you've got a deal."
With that settled, I straightened up, holstering my gun. "Perfect."
Meanwhile, the blonde girl propped herself on her knees, her huge tits jiggling as she opened Krosovar's zipper and took his old, probably smelly, dick in her mouth. Fucking gross.
"Well, I'll leave you to it," I said, turning towards the door.
"Already back?" I grinned, checking my phone. It was 5:45 pm.
Volk slammed the car door and started fussing with his hair in the rearview mirror, like he was trying to salvage a lost cause.
"Well, well, Mr. Speedy Gonzalez! But seriously, a face like yours and a dick deficiency? That's just fucking tragic," I said, shaking my head in mock sympathy as I revved the engine, heading off to the office with a grin. "Looks like you might need surgery for your dick too, my friend."
Volk let out a frustrated growl from the passenger seat. "Hurry the fuck up. I'm starving," he snapped, glaring at me like I was personally responsible for his misery.
"Impatient much, princess?" I laughed.
Volk reached over, snatched my phone from the dashboard, and dialed a number with a devilish smirk. He put it on speaker.
"Who the hell are you calling?"
He didn't answer, just leaned back with a grin while I drove through the city, trying to figure out who the hell he'd dialed. Soon, Caia's voice filled the car, far too familiar.
"Hi, zolotse ," she said cheerfully, making me smirk.
"Hi–-"
"Hello, Caia," Volk cut me off. "Alexsei just confessed his dick is so tiny he can't possibly satisfy you. So, if you ever want to experience what real pleasure feels like, you know where to find me. I'll make sure you fucking come apart."
I was stunned into silence, torn between laughing or stopping the car and tearing him apart. What a fucking idiot.
Caia's laughter echoed through the car. "I assure you, Volk, my husband knows what he's doing. I won't be needing your so-called ‘services.' Thanks for the offer though," she said, her voice dripping with condescension.
"Your loss," Volk shot back before ending the call. "Let's face it, she's just pretending because she's stuck with you. No way she's actually satisfied," he added with a smirk.
I rolled my eyes, battling the urge to punch his ugly face, reminding myself that some insults were better left unanswered.
I couldn't wait to get home, eager to satisfy my wife again and again and again.