Page 79 of Cashmere Cruelty
The pocket square.
He lingers at the doorway, long enough for me to risk a look up. “Goodnight, April,” he says, a bit quicker, raspier, more throttled than usual.
“Goodnight, Matvey.”
He doesn’t kiss my hand this time.
For a second, I wonder if he ever will again.
24
MATVEY
The Jupiter Hotels office building is on the other side of Manhattan. This is intentional: I don’t mix business with pleasure. What I do mix business with ismorebusiness, the kind that can’t be conducted in the light of day.
Unless you’re me, that is.
I stride into the conference room on the uppermost floor of the office building. As I walk by, secretaries scramble to pick up documents, make themselves look busy. I make a mental note to let one go by the end of the day, so they won’t need to pretend any longer.
Yuri and Grisha flank me as I enter, always one step behind. They sit at my sides near the head of the long table.
Around us, thevoryhave already gathered.
Vor.That title is the greatest honor, second only to mine:pakhan.Being avormeans being one of the heads of the Bratva hydra, with the power to command legions. And, of course, serve thepakhandirectly.
“Gentlemen,” I greet curtly. None of us has time to waste on pleasantries, least of all me. “Let’s begin.”
It’s the usual signal. Around me, everybody straightens. Once I push down the first chip, the others will fall accordingly.
“Araes Inc. has shown a 43.25% quarterly growth,” the first voice says. It’s Ivan, the highest ranking among them. He’s the one who opens the dance: the subsidiary company he’s in charge of, Araes, is a leading force in the firearms industry, and as such, brings in the big bucks. All perfectly legal and above board—unless you stumble by the warehouse on the third Friday night of the month, when our friends from the African coast come pay us a visit with presents aplenty.
I like letting Ivan go first. Rank aside, he always knows how to put the fear of God in the others: Araes is the North Star. And everyone, with no exception, will stew with envy at yet another incomparable report.
Competition—that’s the key. If you want anything out of these savages other than the bare minimum, there’s only one way to get it.
Pit them against each other.
Predictably, the room fills with awkward coughs. A few murmured words of congratulations, a few respectful nods. On the inside, however, everyone’s seething.
Good. Stoke that fire. Use it.
Next up, Gora makes his report. To him, I entrusted Ceresial Green: a whole foods and supplements producer that makes us millions. The environment isn’t particularly happy with us, but the vegans sure are.
12% growth, as expected.
It goes on like this for a while: M-Nerv, academic publishing, 9%. Hestiana Hosts, real estate, 11.5%. P.L.U.T.O., funeral services franchise, 14%.
After that, I zone out.
It’s not that I’m uninterested. This is my empire, my creations. Of course I want to know how much money they’re making me. If any heads need to roll, and which ones.
But today, I can’t make myself focus.
“Boring,” Stanislav says—or at least that’s what I hear. “Boring, boring, boring.” He’s probably talking numbers about Venus Lounges, but I can’t make myself give a shit.
There’s only one person on my mind.
I look at the long conference room table and I can see her, spread out over the papers, dress undone and legs parted to beckon me in. Her gorgeous belly jutting out, filled with me and only me. A claim for everyone to see—and oh, how I’d claim her again in an instant. Right here, right now, in front of the whole world.