Page 14 of Wicked Arrangement

Jesus! Where did that thought come from? I mean, he’s not even said he wants to sleep with me. Maybe he’s just lonely or this is the only way he can think to get me to take the money to appease his weird, life debt promise he made after the car accident. He’ll probably give me a guest room somewhere hidden and leave me to my own devices for the next two weeks. But the hungry look in his eyes is making me question this reasoning. Our hands are still clasped, and for a moment I wonder if he’s about to bridge the space between us and take me just as I’d fantasized.

A sudden knock at the door breaks the spell and I drop his hand as though scalded. He looks irritated at the interruption and finally breaks eye contact with me to look at the door.

“In a minute,” he calls out before turning his focus back to me. “I assume you’d like to freshen up and take a shower. I will call for someone to come and take you to your room. There are some clothes in the wardrobe already that you can use, anything else you need can be purchased for you, just ask.”

“Thank you,” I reply.

He turns from me and proceeds to make a call before answering the door. One of the other men from our first encounter is there, unlike Yaroslav and Artem, Vova is under six foot, but he has that same tense energy and is almost as wide as he is tall. Despite the tailored suit he’s wearing, you can still see that he is covered in tattoos, they snake up his neck, around the back and sides of his bald head. His hands and knuckles are equally inked. He has the appearance of a boxer who has been in several fights, with a crooked nose and squashed features. He comes in and wordlessly waits to one side until another member of staff comes to escort me to my room.

“I’ll see you later, Miss Walsh,” Yaroslav states as I leave.

“Kim,” I remind him with a smile as I walk away.

***

After leaving Yaroslav’s office, a kindly maid greeted me and told me that my room was the master suite at the top of the stairs at the end of the corridor, gesturing vaguely. I couldn’t believe my eyes when I entered the room, it really was a suite complete with a couch and a huge flat-screen TV. The gigantic bed must be a super super king, with crisp white sheets and more pillows than anyone could ever need, it looked so comfy I was tempted to climb right into it but I desperately needed a shower. On either side of the bed are two doors. I try the first one and find the ensuite.

The ensuite is bigger than my bedroom at home with a huge bathtub and a walk-in rain shower. Stripping off my grubby clothes I decide to hop straight into the shower, figuring I could find clothes afterward. After a long, luxurious shower I feel a million times better, but also bone weary. I wrap myself in oneof the decadently fluffy white towels and head back into the bedroom.

Again, that amazing bed calls to me and I decide to give in to the urge to lie down and rest, just for a moment. Since my grandmother’s accident I realize I’d barely gotten more than a few hours’ sleep at a time. Climbing on top of the covers and enjoying the feel of the Egyptian cotton on my bare skin, I luxuriate in the sensation, allowing myself to finally think of exactly what I’ve gotten myself into. I can’t believe I’ve agreed to drop everything and stay for two whole weeks in some stranger’s mansion. Albeit an unbelievably sexy one. The sheets of the bed even smell like him, a masculine musky smell that is rich and fresh at the same time.

Just thinking of Yaroslav has me feeling horny and I allow my thoughts to wander, imagining what it would have been like if we hadn’t been interrupted in the office. I picture him bending me over the desk and fucking me hard from behind, his strong hands lifting me and throwing me around like I weigh nothing. I close my eyes, falling deeper into the fantasy as I slowly caress myself.

I’m amazed to find how quickly my body responds, how wet my pussy is at the mere thought of having sex with Yaroslav Volkov. I arch my back and tilt my head back increasing the rhythm of my fingers on my clit and playing with my hard nipples, imagining they’re in his mouth. I thrust my fingers deep into my warm aching slit, trying to find release, wanting more, needing him. Fuck, I’ve never been this turned on just imagining a guy doing this to me before.

I picture him teasing my clit with his tongue before driving his cock into me and the thought of it almost sends me over the edge, I let out a moan, and his name escapes my lips.

Chapter 8

Yaroslav

“This had better be good Vova,” I snap, irritated at the untimely interruption.

I’d been contemplating giving into my desires and taking Kimberly right there and then on the sofa when he’d knocked. Even looking tired, disheveled, and wearing sweatpants Kimberly is a knockout. The sweatpants she wore hung low on her hips and her tee was a little too tight, revealing her curves and a small sliver of skin that I wanted to run my tongue along between where the shirt ended, and her sweats began. Despite my proposition for her to stay with me not being entirely for platonic reasons, I meant it when I said that I have no intention of forcing her to do anything against her will, but something tells me she would be amenable to my advances.

“Sorry, Boss. I thought you’d want to know right away, we’ve had reports that Roman Sharkozi is in the US. He was spotted arriving at Miami airport,” Vova explains.

“Fuck,” I mutter, pacing the room and thinking through what his arrival could mean. Nothing good, that’s for sure.

If Roman Sharkozi is in the US, it means trouble. The Sharkozi and Volkov families have been rivals from conception. The Sharkozi empire is as ancient as my family’s. Back in the Soviet era, they dabbled in theft and murder to build their brutal reputation before switching to the more profitable drug trade in the nineties. It was then that they became a real powerhouse,gaining the support of several important government officials and integrating themselves into high-class Russian society.

The Sharkozis are always hungry for more and will stop at nothing to get it. When Roman discovered the extent of my father’s influence and that he had immeasurably valuable information on numerous influential figures, he set his sights on our family. He wanted either to ally with us or, ideally, take what was ours. My father Oleg, proved to be a more formidable adversary than he anticipated. I do not doubt that Roman decided to take him out because of this. Despite his efforts, the deaths of my parents and some of our best men did not end the wolf clan.

Though it did weaken us, and since my father’s death, Roman is even more powerful. I’ve long suspected that Roman was responsible for my parents’ murder, yet I’ve had insufficient proof or power to take my revenge yet.

Following my father’s untimely demise, Uncle Innokentiy ran our empire in Russia, guiding me until I was old enough and ready to take over control at eighteen. He remains the head of the Volkov Brotherhood’s financial sector and helps me to maintain control in Russia since I moved operations over to the US seven years ago.

“Did Innokentiy tell you this?” I ask Vova.

He shakes his head, “Nope, we’ve not had an update from him in over a week.”

This catches my attention, although I don’t speak with my uncle often, he is in regular contact with my men. I’m surprised Innokentiy didn’t inform us of Roman’s travel plans ahead of his arrival, he is usually the first to know this sort of information.

“Does anyone have eyes on him? Could someone have taken him out without our knowledge?” I ask, suddenly worried the situation could be far graver than I initially thought.

Vova shifts uncomfortably, “He’s fine. Our other contacts in Moscow have been updating us, we just haven’t heard from him directly.”

“Okay, good. I’ll try to get hold of him myself. I’m sure he’s just been preoccupied with the shipment and setting things up on his end,” I reply.

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