One of my mother’s clients taught me how to drive when I was eleven. He was high as fuck when he put a gun to my thigh and told me to keep it at sixty kmph. Longest drive of my life.
I had a meeting with Alfonso in an hour. The Colombian drug lord’s latest shipment of cocaine was cut with laundry detergent, and I made it a priority to make sure what I put out was pure. A chemist in Rublyovka tested all my product in his basement. It was an interesting meeting in front of me, but all I could think about was the girl tied to my guest room bed.
I ran a thumb over my split bottom lip wondering how I was going to work her over. Diamonds and furs wouldn’t do it, unfortunately. She responded to a little seduction a moment ago, but I didn’t want to push her to a point of simply needing to get off. I wanted her to need me; to beg, live, and breathe just for me.
On second thought, I probably wouldn’t have time for all that, so I’d settle for a hard and willing fuck.
Unsure of the angle to take with this girl, the thrill of the chase mixed with the pent-up frustration tightening in my groin. I had multiple women I could call, Nadia included, but somehow, I knew I wouldn’t. The only lips I wanted on my dick right now tasted like strawberries.
The longer Mila made me wait, the more she’d regret it.
Her phone rang in my pocket. I turned it back on this morning, having the urge to gloat a little. When I saw Ivan’s name onscreen, a smile pulled on my lips. I answered the call and brought it to my ear.
“Ronan’s Steakhouse. Home of the largest sausage in Moscow.”
“Ty sukin syn.” You son of a bitch.
I chuckled. “Bitch is appropriate, but ‘cunt’ would be a better description of my mother.”
“You touched her,” he gritted through clenched teeth.
“My mother?” I parried with amusement. “No. Even I find incest unappealing.” Then I added, “Not to mention, not a huge fan of STDs.”
He made a bitter sound. “I’m sure you have a history with them. You’ve fucked half the city.”
“Nah. I always wrap it up.” And then I drawled a popular health provider’s slogan. “Prevention is the key to health and happiness.”
“You’re a dead man walking, you know that?”
“Living on the edge always did make my cock feel a little tingly.”
Pavel blew a stop sign, narrowly missing a T-bone collision with a farm truck.
“Jesus, kid,” I snapped.
He white-knuckled the wheel. “Fuck, I’m sorry!”
“How did you coerce her to make that video?” Ivan growled.
This was all fun and games until now. My blood heated at the idea he’d watched it; that he’d seen Mila’s body in person before; that he’d fucked her. My chest twisted with aversion, but from years of training, I managed to keep my voice indifferent. “Good show, huh?”
“I’d rather fuck your mother’s corpse than watch that.”
Good.
That was good.
Although, I now regretted sending that video to her papa. I didn’t think he would show it to others, but if he did, they were dead men. She was mine for the time being, every goddamn inch of her, whether she liked it or not. I refused to analyze the feeling. I had enough shit to do.
“She wouldn’t have done it unless you blackmailed her.”
Interesting he was so concerned about whether she was willing or not, rather than if I’d harmed her since. Maybe he knew a hard shell of viciousness encased her soft heart.
“You know her so well, do you?” I asked.
“Better than anyone.”
My grip tightened on the ridiculous sparkly phone. “Obviously not as well as you believe.” The innuendo was clear: there was no blackmail necessary.