Page 81

Blyat’.This is a fucking disaster, and I just made it a verypublicone.

I paid five million dollars for a woman half my age. A virgin who works for me.

I’m a sick, sick man.

I turn back toward the building. The cigarette hangs from my lips, half-finished. But it seems my night of mistakes isn’t over…

because Kir is waiting for me at the side entrance.

He’s slouching against the doorframe, arms crossed. His tuxedo is rumpled now and his hair has fallen out of its careful styling, like he’s been running his hands through it obsessively.

“Father.” No son alive has ever said that word with more disdain.

I take another drag as I resume my saunter toward the door he’s blocking. “Move, son.”

He doesn’t. “We need to talk.”

“No, we don’t.”

“You just paid five million dollars to buy my employee out from under me.” An air of reckless danger simmers underneath his tone. “I think that warrants a fucking conversation.”

“She’s not your employee anymore.” I drop the cigarette and crush it under my heel. “She’s mine.”

“She’s a human fucking being.”

“Since when do you care about that?”

The tendons in his neck stand out in sharp relief as he glares at me. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

“It means I watched you corner her in your office two weeks ago, and she looked a lot more like ‘prey’ than ‘human being’ to you then.” I step closer, but he doesn’t back down. “Don’t pretend you give a damn about her well-being.”

He thrusts his chin proudly in the air. “I apologized for that.”

I snort. “How noble of you.”

“It was a mistake. I was drunk, and fucked up in the head, and I didn’t—” He stops himself and draws a shaky breath. “That’s not the point.”

“Then what is?”

“The point is you’re obsessed with her.” He jabs a finger at my chest. “I’ve seen the way you look at her. Like she’s?—”

“Careful, son.”

“Like she’s?—”

“I’m warning you?—”

“Like she’sMom.”

I feel rage different than most men. Every story I’ve ever read describes rage as a white-hot flame that rips through you and burns everything it touches. Maybe that’s why I’ve always smoked: to try to feel some of that for myself.

Because the rageI’vealways experienced is much, much different.

Outwardly, my face goes blank and every inch of my body remains perfectly still. But beneath the surface, it’s like winter. Cold, so fucking cold. Not a preserving cold or a pleasant cold, but the nastiest cold there ever was, a violent cold one degree away from annihilating all the life in its path. It’s a cold that snuffs out soul and breath. It’s adeathcold.

It’s strange, then, that the boy who shares my DNA is pure fire. I can see it in his eyes. Twin flames.

“It’s true, isn’t it?” Kir’s glare is bright and furious now. “Blonde hair, brown eyes, same build. She’s even right about the same age Mom was when you met her.”