Page 19 of Bound Vows
The silk latches onto her curves in ways that make it difficult to concentrate on business, and every time she crosses her legs, I'm reminded of how those thighs felt wrapped around my waist yesterday. The way she turns pages without reading tells me she’s catching everything.
Smart woman. I expected nothing less.
“Alexei mentioned that you wanted to discuss your monthly contributions.” I pour Torrino’s water from the crystal pitcher on my desk and take my time to let him sweat while I play gracious host. “Something about adjusting the amounts?”
“Times have been difficult, Mr. Volkov. The pandemic hurt business, and now with inflation?—”
“Stop.” I set the glass in front of him with enough force to make water slosh over the rim. “Don’t insult my intelligence with excuses about circumstances beyond your control.”
Torrino shrinks in his chair as my accent thickens with irritation. Maya’s book lowers a bit, and I catch her studying my face with renewed attention. She’s learning to read the warning signs my men have recognized for years.
“Your restaurant grossed four hundred thousand last month.” I open the folder that contains his financial records and toss them across the desk where he can see every documented transaction. “Your expenses totaled two hundred and sixty thousand, leaving you with a profit of one hundred and forty thousand dollars.”
“How did you?—”
“Know your exact numbers? I make it my business to know everything about the people who work with me. Your accountantis very thorough, Mr. Torrino. Almost as thorough as my people who review his reports.”
The man’s face goes white as he realizes the depth of my surveillance. Behind him, Maya closes her book and sets it aside, no longer pretending disinterest in our conversation. When she leans forward, the silk blouse gapes just enough to reveal the lace of her bra, and my cock stirs at the memory of her perfect breasts in my hands.
“You want to reduce your monthly payment from fifteen thousand to ten thousand,” I continue as I pull out a calculator and make a show of running numbers. “That represents a thirty-three percent decrease in what you contribute to our partnership.”
“Partnership?” Torrino’s voice cracks on the word.
“Of course. I provide security for your establishment, ensure no competitors muscle in on your territory, and guarantee that health inspectors find no violations worth reporting. In exchange, you contribute a reasonable percentage of your profits to support these services.” I smile in a way that makes his Adam’s apple bob nervously. “It’s a very fair arrangement.”
Maya adjusts herself in her chair, and I notice how she watches Torrino’s body language. She reads fear the way I do, by recognizing the subtle signs that separate genuine distress from manipulation.
“Mr. Volkov, please understand?—”
“I understand perfectly.” I steeple my fingers above my desk. “You believe that because business is challenging, you deserve a discount on essential services. You think hard times entitle you to renegotiate agreements that were made in good faith.”
Torrino opens his mouth to respond, but I continue before he can speak.
“Let me explain why that thinking is flawed. When times are difficult, security becomes more valuable, not less. Desperate people make desperate choices, and desperate choices often involve targeting successful businesses like yours.” I stand and walk around the desk, noting how he flinches when I approach. “The protection I provide becomes exponentially more important when economic pressures mount.”
“I’m not trying to cheat you?—”
“No?” I perch on the edge of the desk in front of him, close enough that he has to crane his neck to maintain eye contact. “Then explain what you call attempting to reduce your payments while maintaining the same level of service.”
Maya watches this exchange with fascination, and I can see her mental gears turning as she evaluates my methods. The way her fingers drum against the book’s cover tells me she’s either impressed or disturbed by my approach.
Possibly both.
And then her eyes darken with what looks like arousal, and I remember how she responded to dominance yesterday in the gym. Oh, she’s turned on, all right.
“Business has been slow,” Torrino repeats weakly.
“Your business has been exceptional. Would you like me to read your weekly receipts aloud?” I tap the folder with one finger. “Or should we discuss the private dining events you’ve been hosting for certain city council members?”
The blood drains from his face. Those private events aren’t quite legal, considering they involve substantial cash payments for favorable zoning decisions and building permits.
“You see, Mr. Torrino, I don’t just provide security. I provide comprehensive business consulting that ensures your operations remain… uninterrupted.” My voice drops to a whisper that makes him lean forward to hear me. “Attempting to reduce your contributions suggests you no longer value these services.”
“That’s not true?—”
“Then we understand each other.” I return to my chair and open a folder containing photographs of his restaurant taken at various times over the past month. “Your monthly contribution remains fifteen thousand dollars, due on the first of each month as agreed.”
Torrino stares at the photographs, and I see the moment he recognizes surveillance shots that document his daily routines, employee schedules, and delivery patterns. The message is unmistakable: I know everything about your operation.
