Page 11 of Auctioned to the Bratva

His thin lips pulled into a tight smile across his scrawny face. “No sir, sorry, I haven’t. Enjoy the coffee, sir,” he replied and headed out the door.

I watched him leave and closed the door behind him before pouring a cup of perfectly brewed darkness. I added sugar and some cream as I needed sweetness this morning.

With my cup in hand, I strolled to the large window and opened the blinds. The sun shone bright, and I knew it was going to be a sunny day.

The world outside was in full swing as people scurried along the sidewalks and cars moved up and down the street. As I sipped at my cup absorbing the sweet aroma of the coffee inside, I wondered what time Irina had left.

Turning to face the room again, I realized that she had left. She didn’t intend on returning. I realized I had no idea who she was. No surname, no address, nothing, my mind topped over her reaction to Roman.

Standing there with the sun shining over my shoulders, I felt my temper flare up. “How dare she just walk out and disappear.” I spat at the empty room. Why was this upsetting me so? After all, it was supposed to be a one-night stand. But then again, we didn’t even make it that far. “Is that why I feel so upset?” I asked the walls.

Hearing my voice echo through the emptiness, I realized my anger was taking over. I paced up and down the length of the window calming my mind. I was the one who decided when things ended. I should have insisted she tell me about her connection to Roman and Bratva last night.

She can go to hell, I thought to myself. Why should I care who she is or isn’t? If she didn’t even have the decency to faceme the next day, I didn’t give her any cause to run. I treated her gently and with respect. Was this how she did things?

I could ask Roman if he knew since she was a Russian in Miami and he was bound to know her. But maybe I should leave it at what it was: an amazing night. Leaving like this without discussing the issue most likely meant she didn’t want more than what we shared. She could keep her secret; I didn’t need people like her in my life anyway.

Considering everything, I decided to let it go. After all, I had more important things to focus on. I was still in two minds about Roman’s suggestion of moving down to the coast and getting a manager to run the business in Los Angeles.

Turning back to the window I admired the view. It was spectacular, about that Roman was right. There was an allure to this city. It seemed to scream come with me for fun. “Fun, yeah,” I said out loud as I thought back on the evening. Feeling my anger rising again, I pushed the thoughts from my mind. I wondered why the thought of her was pushing all my buttons.

Maybe I will take a ride and see what else to do around here. My mind needed some other form of pleasure. I thought I might just see something worth staying for as I tried to smile at my reflection. Yet, my mind kept strolling back to Irina.

I shook my head and emptied my cup. As I walked to the penthouse door, I placed the cup down hard on the serving trolley. I grabbed my wallet and keys at the door and headed down to the parking bay.

The Ferrari’s engine purred as I started her up. Pushing the pedal to the floor, I pulled out quickly into the street. I had no real destination, so I just went up and down the roads for a while. The radio was blaring, and soon, the fog in my mind cleared. I slowed down and admired the sights.

Finally, I drove along the ocean and stopped by a coffee shop with a deck overlooking the beach. After settling on the deck, I noticed it was close to the second club. I ordered a tall coffee and waffles for breakfast. While I waited, I watched the people filling the beach below.

I imagined spending the day with Irina on the beach. Angry again, I shook my head, why could I not just let go? What was it about her that caused my mind to keep holding on? I allowed my anger to flood my mind, hoping to rid myself of her lingering image.

There were many attractive women all around. I could have any one of them, and none would treat me this way. Soon, the waiter returned with my order. I sat eating in silence as I kept my eyes on the scenery displayed below.

Even with the slight chill in the air, women were walking around in bikinis and sunbathing. It was a gorgeous sight. Once I was done, I visited an old friend from high school. He had moved here many years back.

He lived more inland, and the drive there took about two hours. After catching up with a couple of drinks, I headed back toward the ocean and my hotel.

There was a restaurant not too far from the hotel. Roman had mentioned that I should try their food while down here. So, I decided to go there before heading back to the hotel. I did not intend on going out tonight, just supper and then back.

Roman had invited me over to their place for the day, but I declined. I would see them tomorrow and wanted to rid myself of this strange longing for Irina. Roman would see right through me and I didn’t want his scrutiny right now.

Maybe I would watch a movie or see if there is a game on any of the channels. Yes, I thought as I pulled up to the entrance.A quick supper, some drinks in the hotel bar, and then, TV time. I got out and handed my keys to the parking assistant.

“Don’t park her too far,” I said as he got into the Ferrari.

I strolled in; the place was lively and had a variety of people. The lady standing at the small podium asked if it was only me. I nodded and she opened a big book. As she scrolled through the list, I assumed she was she was looking for an open table. I wondered if this was one of Roman’s regular places.

Glancing at the people, I considered the fact that many of these people might even be Bratva. Although, there didn’t appear to be any significant sign that it was a mafia hangout. Besides, Roman knew how I felt. He wouldn’t intentionally send me somewhere that could be cause for worry.

The hostess took a menu from the stand beside her and waved for me to follow. We walked around a couple of tables toward the back. She walked to one close to the window.

The hostess placed the menu on the table and waited for me to sit down. “Your waiter will be with you shortly,” she said before heading back to her podium. Most of the people seated closest to me didn’t even look up as I passed or sat down. They were all busy with their meals or companions.

A short, stocky, dark-haired guy in a white shirt and black denim came up to my table. He had a notepad and pen in his hands. “Good evening, sir.” He said in a soft tone. “What can I get you to drink?”

“Evening, whiskey on the rocks, please,” I replied. The young man bowed his head and swirled around, heading back through the tables.

I picked up the menu and studied it for a while. When the waiter returned, I was ready to place my order. “I’ll be having agrilled rib eye, plus wasabi mashed potatoes on the side, please,” I said as I handed him the menu.

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