The Prototype

8. HIM

MARCELLUS POV

The cold wind blew softly against my face as I stepped out of my all-black BMW with my briefcase. I locked my doors behind me with the keypad as I stepped through the snow walking to the doors of my penthouse. During this time, Russia was plastered in snow and although February is approaching us quickly, it feels as though the year is off to a fast and crazy pace.

I rarely visit Russia unless it's for business as it is always. Russia could never be home for me. I am no good in Russia and it seems as though my darkness always gets the best of me when in Russia and around my Russian Mafia brothers.

I am a morally rounded man that normally doesn't get into the mix when in Russia. If it's not business-related or event-wise then I really don't come here. Let along the flight can seem pretty dragged some days even on my own private jet.

However I must admit, I love it in Russia. Business runs so smooth here. My connections always flourish here and we have a damn good time at the end of the night.

I made it inside my penthouse as the motion censored lights popped on every stepped I make. "Hello Mr. Gillian, dinner will be ready momentarily, is there anything I can get you until then?" my butler spoke. "A glass of wine would be fine, I'll be in my office, thank you," I informed him. He nodded his head "With pleasure sir." he expressed as I left the bottom floor of my penthouse walking up my stairs as my body begin to warm up.

I made it to my office, sitting my briefcase down and then removing my trench coat placing it on the coat rack. The fireplace was already lit as my office felt warm and cozy with the dim lighting. I walked over to my desk sitting in my huge black leather office chair. I pulled on the middle drawer where I keep the finest of Russian cigars. I grabbed one along with my lighter closing the drawer back. I got comfortable in my chair pulling the cigar to my mouth in between my lips and lighting it as I begin to lightly puff the sweet tobacco bring relaxation.

I've been here for three days and it's been much needed. I could not bare to look that damn woman in the eyes without killing her after our last meeting. Her confidence and how she demands respect and dominance are going to be the death of her. I think if I didn't leave right after, I would have kilt that woman and said to hell with everything else which I must admit wouldn't have been the smartest idea but it is and was exactly how I felt.

The fact that she is so confident in her craft and so confident in her skills and what she could do for my business and how much more successful she could make my business on one end burned a hole in me because I think we are doing extremely well and were doing extremely well without her.

The other end intrigued me that she spoke so highly of her skills to do such a thing as making my business even more successful than what it already is which is very difficult since my businesses are already extremely successful. We are extremely good.

Nonetheless, it would definitely be an incredible investment. It would be a great addition. This would expand and push open all boundaries that have blocked us or caused any concern.

I want to always be in control of my intel, my data and I want my business partners, peers, and suppliers to know that everything we discuss, all of the contracts, private details and information is beyond protected and secured and there won't ever be a chance in hell for our information to be breached or compromised.

If she can do that then maybe just maybe I would give her a bit of the respect she so desperately tries to demand.

Hearing her demands and her tones and the way she speaks, her terms and conditions really made me want to slit her face open. The way she was demanding of things and had her own terms and conditions. That snarky fucking smirk of hers and her piercing dark brown eyes staring at me without any fear and so much confidence, so much fire that ignites her to speak the way she speaks made me so badly want to put her out by killing her.