Sinful Blaze (Chekhov Bratva Book 1)

“The hell you will.” Mak glares at Conrad’s little consort, his fingers twitching over the piece tucked in his hidden side holster.

We don’t kill civilians as a rule, but we don’t tolerate anyone who torments our family, either. And to him, Daphne is his new sister.

He just might do it.

Brittany all but ignores him. “Per the contract Chekhov International holds with Cleary Consulting, every department is assigned a liaison and general representative. It has come to our attention that the C-Suite was overlooked in recent restructuring. I’m here to resolve that.”

Sofi arches a brow. “So resolve it, and get the fuck out. Send someone else.”

“Unfortunately, I can’t do that.” The way she says it is so patronizing, like Sofi is some naive child. “There’s no one as qualified as me to handle the rigorous demands of the corporate level. It would be a gross disservice to leave you with someone less than adequate.”

Brittany eyes me like I’m something on the menu she’s about to order.

But if she thinks she’s going to unseat Daphne from my life, this woman is sorely mistaken.

“Ms. Cleary, I am going to give you the benefit of doubt and assume there’s simply been a serious miscommunication between departments.” I snap the open folder shut and rise from my desk. The intention is to intimidate her into fear, but to my ever-increasing annoyance, it seems to have the exact opposite effect.

She shivers.

With excitement.

It quickly becomes clear that the job she dressed for isn’t one that involves paperwork. Her nipples tighten until they strain against the cropped sweater, revealing that she conveniently forgot a bra today. Even standing, it’s a miracle none of us can see up her skirt with how short it is. Lacy garters frame her thighs and hold up silk stockings I have zero urge to touch.

I’m a man. I’m hot-blooded. If Daphne came in here dressed like that, I’d be chucking my siblings out the door just to get my hands on her. Fuck, what I’d give to see and feel her swallow my cock, on her knees at my desk, wearing one of these barely-there office getups…

But I’m getting distracted.

It’s not Daphne here to tempt me into several HR violations. It’s a sick, inadequate imitation.

And I want nothing less than the real thing.

Sofiya springs into action first. She shoves past Brittany and grabs the doorknob. “I’m calling security. And a few other people. So if you know what’s good for you… run.”

I hold up a hand to stop her. “Hang on, Sofi. I’ve got this. I want you and Mak here to make sure everything is on the up and up.”

I grab the desk phone and pound out a direct extension. “Gus. It’s Chekhov. Get Bert on the line. Yeah, Bert? Grab our files and meet me in my office. Immediately. I have something of yours I need you to pick up. No, this cannot wait. Immediately.”

The confident grin on Brittany’s face flickers with uncertainty.

Oh, just you wait.

I stand there, hands in my pockets, exchanging glances with Mak and Sofi. They know what I’m up to. Brittany, however, doesn’t, and it’s clearly eating at her.

“Did… did I say something?” she nervously asks.

“Oh, you said a lot of things, glupaya suka.”

When Bert arrives, Sofi pulls the door open for him and dramatically gestures him inside.

His eyes damn near fly out of his head when he sees his daughter. “Brittany? What on… Why the hell are you dressed like that? What were you thinking?!”

“That’s exactly the problem, Bert.” I hold out my hand for the file in his. “It seems like no one in your firm has been thinking, long- or short-term. Did you send your daughter to my office?”

Herbert Cleary sputters, somewhere between apoplectic at his wayward daughter and humiliated in my presence. “I-I… I did, yes. With the understanding that she would be working with the CFO.”

Brittany giggles. It’s a sad, forced attempt to lighten the situation. “Oh! Silly me. The CFO! I must have misread those pesky letters.”

“Shut up,” the founder and head of Cleary Consulting hisses under his breath. “Shut the hell up, Brittany!”

“Here’s what’s going to happen.” I find the papers I wanted, the contract with Cleary Consulting, and hold them up. Then I tear them in half, and half again. “You are going to pack up your things. You are going to have every representative who works for you pack up your things. And then you will follow security out the front door and never look back.”

“But—”

“I wasn’t finished, Mr. Cleary. I need to make something exceptionally clear to you before you go and blame the impending downfall of your business on your one and only daughter.” Now, that his mouth is snapped shut, I level my glare at him and make sure he feels every syllable down to his bones. “You have multiple responsibilities, Herbert Cleary. As a businessman, as an administrator—but most importantly, as a father. Not only has my team been tracking several cracks in the facade of what you claim to be an airtight system of competence, it’s clear that you’ve neglected your duties to your children.”

“How dare you⁠—”

“How dare you!”

Both Clearys jump.

I’m damn near close to punching my fist through my desk. “How dare you turn a blind eye to your daughter’s misconduct? Where is the accountability for her actions? Is this how you want your family name represented: by a loose woman so desperate for her daddy’s attention, she’ll throw herself at any man who might fuck her?” I take a breath before I go too far with the insults. It’s too easy to dive too deep. More and more lately, as I watch my daughter grow inside her beautiful mother, I’m increasingly aware of how someone, anyone, could lob the same insults at her. Which I will not tolerate.

I need to hold myself to the same standards.

“Ms. Cleary’s failures are yours, Bert. Her desperation indicates your shortcomings. And if you can’t pay attention to your own house, how the hell am I supposed to trust you to pay attention to mine?” I toss the torn paper like confetti. “This is what your negligence as a father cost you. If you need better visuals, I’ll be more than happy to rescind your last payment and burn the cash with gasoline right in front of you.”

Herbert Cleary is beet red. “You… you wouldn’t!”

“No? Never forget, Mr. Cleary, I am the same man who lit up five million dollars without a second thought. That investment landed me a stunning wife and beautiful baby daughter who, I promise you, will not turn out like this disgrace.”

He does not have an answer. How could he? There is none to give.

“Security will oversee your packing and escort you and your team to your vehicles. Count yourself fortunate, Bert. I’ve done worse for less.”

Brittany sputters and stammers, but her father yanks on her elbow.

“Shut up, you stupid girl!” Cleary drags her to the door. “You and that mouth of yours will get us killed.”

He has no idea how close they came.

My daughter, so innocent and perfect and yet unborn, has no idea how many lives her existence has saved.