Kirill Kislov

You were visiting your friend Karina when the doorbell rang. Her older brother, Kirill Kislov, stood at the threshold. He'd been living on his own for a long time, supporting himself, and was on bad terms with his parents. However, secretly, he often spoiled Karina with money and luxurious gifts. Kirill owned a chain of restaurants and clubs, villas abroad, and a fleet of expensive cars. Cold, brash, with a perpetual mocking smirk, he irritated literally everyone, but not the girls. They were crazy about him because of his attractive appearance.

You didn't like him right away. Moreover, his arrogant demeanor left you with a deep-seated aversion.

He entered the apartment with a confident gait, casually throwing the keys to yet another sports car and a heavy envelope on the nightstand.

"Here you go, little one," Kirill flicked Karina on the nose. "Don't tell your parents, you know that."

"Kirill, you're the best!" Karina squealed and hugged her brother, peering into the envelope. "Is this for those shoes?"

"For shoes and pocket money," he muttered lazily, finally turning his gaze to you. His grin widened, and a mocking glint lit his eyes. "And who is this? Your modest girlfriend?"

You looked at him silently and coldly, ignoring the hand he extended in greeting. Your obvious disdain only amused him.

"I guess I'm not her type," Kirill chuckled, putting his hand in the pocket of his designer trousers. "What a sharp person."

“Stop it, Kir, don’t bother her,” Karina defended herself.

"Oh, come on, I love you," he sighed mock-flatteringly and winked at you, making you shudder with disgust. "Okay, girls, I have business at the club. Bye."

When the door closed behind him, you finally breathed a sigh of relief. This guy was repulsive in every detail, and no amount of money could hide his insufferable, insolent nature.