Ruthless: A Mafia Step-Brother Romance - Ruthless: A Mafia Step-Brother Romance Part 2
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Ruthless: A Mafia Step-Brother Romance Part 2

And now?

"Mr. Brokov is not to be disturbed." The brown haired woman is staring daggers at me like I just kicked her puppy rather than simply asked to see Dimitri. She apparently takes issue with me using his first name, too, what with the emphasis on his last name.

I'm mildly surprised he went back to Rebecca's maiden name, given how she still has my father's - and my - last name. Fairfax.

"Well, it's my first day," I protest, a heavy box under my arm. I don't know what I'm going to do, not really, but I wanted to come prepared. My books, and my camera, both weigh a ton, and these heels are already killing my feet. Why did I decide that I wanted to look my best?

Why did I care so much about impressing him?

Because you have to, I remind myself, but I know it's a lie. I'm past doing things just because I have to, or just because Rebecca dangles a carrot in front of my face.

This is about me and Dimitri, and about finding out why and how he left me so casually.

The rest is just... extra.

"I know," the brunette behind the reception desk says, but her tone says she doesn't care.

"Where am I to sit?"

She ignores me, and my cheeks begin to burn. My skirt is too tight, my stockings are itchy as hell, my heels are too high, my blouse is stuck to my chest, and I feel like a hot mess.

And I'm two seconds away from throwing my box at her head when Dimitri walks in the door and it's like all the breath is just stolen from my lungs.

I've never seen him look like this. It's not just business attire, oh no. It's that the suit clings to his body, accentuating his shoulders and arms, making him seem even more filled out. His tattoos hidden away, his hair brushed and styled, and his brown eyes warm as they see me.

"Sarah," he says as he walks to me, touching his hand on my lower back and sending a shiver through me. I know it's silly but that touch seems so... significant. I can't imagine him touching his other employees in such an intimate and familiar way.

"Has Joyce seen to your paperwork yet?"

I assume that he's talking about the secretary, and I shake my head no, and she shrinks behind the desk. Great, day one and I'm already making enemies, and I have no idea what I even did to her.

"Joyce, get Sarah set up in the system right away." His tone is hard and borderline threatening. "I'll show her to her desk myself," he says and doesn't spare her another glance.

The office isn't huge, but it's still a lot to take in. I guess around fifty people must work here, most in the cubicles that litter the inner office. I expect to be led to one of the empty ones I note, but he walks beyond all of those to a door that proudly proclaims: Mr. Dimitri Brokov, C.E.O..

He takes me to the smaller office just off his, pushing open the door. I almost have this feeling that it used to be for his personal secretary or something, as there's a door linking my new office right to his, but he's beaming down at me like it's a secret I'm in on.

That scares me, I'm not going to lie. I suddenly feel like it's all too fast, too soon, and way too close for comfort. Especially if I really am going to backstab him.

And why shouldn't I? He doesn't seem apologetic in the slightest at how much he hurt me. He hasn't apologized, hasn't even pretended like he's done anything wrong, and it's eating me up inside.

I feel that well of anger begin to bubble up and I have to suppress it.

"Nice view, huh?" he asks casually, and truthfully I hadn't noticed, but he's right. It's overlooking a park, and even though we're up on the fourteenth floor, I can still hear some of the birds chirping through the glass. Ever so faintly.

"Yea, it's fine," I say, and he only looks amused at how unimpressed I'm acting. He knows what type of shitty places I've been living and working in, surely, but he lets me go with it.

"I'm just on the other side of that door, Sarah. Anytime I'm not in meetings, at least. So if you ever need help..."

I'm more aware now that his hand is still on my back, and beginning to trail lower, and all that anger dissipates like smoke and is replaced with a heat of a different kind.

We're in public, in our workplace, for heaven's sake! So why does that thought arouse me rather than repulse me? Is this really the type of reputation I want? That I'm only getting the job because of who I am to the boss?

The thought occurs to me, unwanted. They might not even know you're siblings. Different last names, different accents...

Another shiver travels my spine and I push into the office, plunking the heavy box down on my desk.

"Thanks, Mr. Brokov," I say, and when I turn to face him again, he has an excited and mischievous twinkle in his eyes. I don't even want to know what put it there. I smooth out the front of my blouse and look at him, trying to make my voice stop trembling, "If you could just have someone brief me on the status of your books..."

"After how Joyce treated you back there, I doubt she's going to tell you anything accurate," he grins, and it falls into place.

Did I just steal her job?

No wonder she hates me already...

"I see," I say with a frown, licking my lips thoughtfully.

He motions his head towards the computer.

"The user login information is on the notepad, and all the programs you need are installed. The hardcopies are all kept in the filing cabinet in the back corner of my office, the keys are on your desk. Only you and I have copies, so don't lose them."

He walks in, and suddenly the office feels so much smaller and more claustrophobic, his body taking up so much space. His heat sucking up all my air.

It was one thing to see him rugged and casual at coffee, but when he's dressed like this, he looks stronger. Powerful. Like he can say anything and I'd do it, and that's a scary feeling for someone trying to resist his charms - and forget what we came so close to doing.

"If you need me," he growls, his eyes burning into mine, "you know where to find me."

And then he disappears through the door leading to his office, leaving my panties soaked, and my heart absolutely stopped.

Chapter 4.

It's only been a week. I have to keep reminding myself of that, because honestly, I'm getting nowhere. His books are clean, though I remember what Rebecca said about him having another set. It makes sense if he's doing something shady, he'll need a clean set of books for the auditors.

Though I honestly have no idea what type of business he can be in. His company seems to be doing really well, year over year growth, and no real shady stuff. His workers seem mostly content and well paid, and there's nothing that sets off any red flags.

Though I know Dimitri is smart. Much smarter than most people give him credit for.

But what angle is he working at? And what is Rebecca hoping I'll find?

I'm taken from my thoughts by the sound of clapping and cheering, and I rise from my desk, peeking out at the cubicles.

It isn't just Joyce that's unhappy with me, I've quickly found. Everyone acts like I'm invisible, and some part of me is hurt, but another hopes it's for the better. After all, I'm not going to be here long. Six months of work, and then I'm half a million richer, I get my revenge on Dimitri, and I can do whatever I want.

Unfortunately, when I see Dimitri standing on a desk, belting out a happy birthday song to one of the employees, I'm reminded what I really want. I can't help but smile, even as I disappear back into my office and shut the door.

If they don't want me to take part in their celebrations, then I have better things to do.

Like sneak into Dimitri's office and see if he has anything else hidden that I haven't yet found.

Every other time I've come in, he's either been in the office, or the door has been open. But this time I noticed he's actually shut his door, and I know he's going to be out there for a few minutes at least. He has to eat cake if he wants to be the type of boss he projects himself to be, right?

I slip into his office, the daylight illuminating his desk just off to the side. The filing cabinet I'm familiar with is in the nearest corner of the room, opposite his desk, but there's another cabinet near the door I haven't had a chance to peek into.

There's also a shelf, though I can't imagine anything interesting being on that.

I move to the cabinet, trying to open one of the drawers, only to find it locked.

I frown, though it isn't unexpected. Anything that's going to be shady is, at the very least, going to be under lock and key.

I take out my key-ring, curious, and try with each key though none slip in. Unfortunately for my big brother, though, I learned a few things when I was desperate and scrounging for food. I pull out a bobby-pin from the side of my platinum hair, my bang instantly falling into my eyes as I remove the bits of plastic on the edges.

I move the makeshift lock-pick into the keyhole and carefully begin to shift it. I haven't picked a lock in a year or more, but all it takes is nerves of steel, and when I'm alone with no one else around? Honestly, I feel invincible. Powerful.

It's always other people's presence that brings me back to reality.

Though when I tug the cabinet and find it glides easily open, I wonder why I bother putting so much faith in their opinions anyways. I smile proudly at myself, but when I see the clutter of files, my smile is stolen.

How am I going to find anything in this mess? There are folders that are halfway open, others thrown on top of each other, and it looks like chaos. Loose paper litters everything, and I let out a sigh.

All this work picking a lock and this is what I find?

I reach in, flicking through some of the pages when I can hear a knock on my door.

"Crap," I curse, grabbing a few pieces of paper before sliding the drawer shut and going over towards the filing cabinet that contains my work. Though then there's simply silence. Nothing.

Maybe it wasn't him after all?

I start heading back to the previous cabinet when I hear a soft vibration coming from his desk. I stop, and the sound repeats, so I walk towards it. I don't know what I'm expecting to find, and it feels weird being in his personal space without him near.

It's one thing to break into his cabinet, but his desk is more personal.

Especially when I find my hand wrapping around his phone and looking at the illuminated screen.

Incoming call: Slava Romonov I drop the phone back to the desk and fear creeps into me.

He's involved with Slava again?

My blood grows cold and I step away, all of my thoughts of espionage fading as I walk back into my office in a stupor.

What's he doing involved with him again? Especially after the hell he went through last time?

My mouth is filled with cotton as I sit at my desk. There's another four hours left of the work day, but I have no idea how I'm going to make it through.

Not now. Not knowing the information I just found.

I was just a kid when Dimitri and Slava first started hanging out, and everyone tried to protect me from it, I guess. They didn't want me to know about the trouble they were in, but I could hear Rebecca shouting in Russian all the time at Dimitri.

I didn't know what they were into, not really. I just figured they were being boys, running around and just teasing girls or something. Not until I fell asleep in the back of my dad's truck one night and woke up to them pounding a guy's face into the pavement.

I was so naive.

Knock, knock, knock.

I startle, looking up at the door as if whoever was on the other side could see my private thoughts. I clear my throat and try to regain my composure as I shove the stolen papers into my drawer.

"Come in," I say clearly, and then there's Dimitri, his huge frame filling the doorway as he holds out a piece of vanilla cake with extra icing smeared on the side.

The dichotomy of Dimitri.

Getting calls from a thug like Slava.

Bringing me cake, just as I like it.

I wish I had more self-control than to smile at him so excitedly.

"Dimitri, you shouldn't have."

"I shouldn't have had to. Where were you? You should've come and celebrated Carl's birthday with us. I saw you there, watching me perform," he says, his brows raising and his grin growing. "You should've stuck around."

"They don't care for me," I say, trying to be nonchalant.

"Don't be silly," he says, putting the plate on my desk as he smiles down upon me. Reaching out, he touches his fingers to my forehead, pushing some of my messy, platinum waves away from my face, tucking it behind my ear. "You lose your bobby-pin?" he asks, and I'm suddenly defensive.

He can't know.

"I didn't feel like wearing one today," I say, and he simply nods his head, but I can see there's suspicion lurking beneath his brown eyes. Or maybe that's just my imagination running away with itself.

"Well, you should come out with us for drinks tonight. We're just going to kick back, and it'll be a chance for you to get to really know everyone," he says, and I am so damned tempted I could lose my mind.

But I know better than to be in the dark with him, watching as he drinks.

"I'm not twenty one yet," I remind him, and he grins.

"I know that, Sarah. But I also know a place where that doesn't matter."

I roll my eyes at him, but it's only to hide my temptation.

"I know what types of places you like to hang out in, Dimitri, and I'm not interested."

"Ah, but you don't know the types of places I like to take my employees after a long week of work, and I bet yours was a long one. Familiarizing yourself with all my accounts," he says, and his hand is still touching my hair, caressing it in a way that's so inappropriate for work.