Page 17 of Mafia King: Matteo
“Seeing as how you are here, what do you know? Anything going on?”
“Nothing I can talk about, and you know that,” he quips as he maneuvers the G-Wagon through bumper-to-bumper traffic.
“Right. You know what, Kirill? I need a suit for interviews. Can you drop me at the Chanel store?”
“Is that okay with you, Mrs. Volkov?” Kirill asks, glancing at her reflection in the rearview mirror.
“You know it’s Izzy to you,” she replies as she reaches out and tussles his hair like he’s a teenager and not a man approaching thirty.
“Yes, it’s fine. But I have to get home after that. I’m sure I’ll be ready for a nap. Growing a human inside requires tons of sleep.”
I can’t wait to find out about that personally. However, I have no inclination to give my body to a tiny human just yet. I need to use my education and start a career.
“I would have never finished school without you,” I tap Izzy’s leg affectionately. “You made me stick it out.”
Kirill pulls up in front of Chanel and turns to say, “Call me, Alena. I mean it. We can get drinks at the club.”
Yeah, and have a panic attack over the bar where Dmitry stabbed a hitman? Maybe it will help to erase the traumas if I face them head-on and see if I can exercise the demons.
I leave the store and realize I forgot to call my driver.
Shit.
Just then, a limousine stops in front of me. A tinted window in the back glides down.
“Do you need a lift?”
Even though I can’t see him, I know that voice. Chills run up my spine. I lean down, and of course, it’s the man from last night.
“If it’s not an imposition,” I answer casually. I mean, we’ve already had sex. How dangerous could it be? Besides, we’re not alone. He has a driver, like everyone with money here. I can’t blame them. It’s the easiest way to navigate the city traffic, allowing passengers time to multitask. When you’re making hundreds of dollars an hour, every minute adds another zero to the bank account.
The driver, a handsome middle-aged man in his forties, collects my bags and the zippered cloth travel bag. He opens the door for me, and I slide in as Mr. Grey slides over to make room.
“You’re shocked,” he says. His whiskey voice makes me wet with the warmth, and it resonates long after he finishes speaking.
“Surprised. It’s difficult to shock me,” I state. I’m self-conscious that I might be oversharing.
“I find that difficult to believe. You seem quite competent.”
I’m blushing as if I’ve had too much alcohol. I feel the warmth on my face. I hate it when that happens.
“What are you doing here?”
“I have to shop, don’t I?”
He wasn’t in the store. Has he been following me? I would have felt his presence if he were that close. I wonder how he found me. Judging from his impeccable suit, which looks far more expensive than anything my father wears, he has enough money to pay for information.
“Have you spoken to Madame M?”
“No, the fact we’re both here is pure coincidence. Where can my driver take you?”
“Are you not coming?” My eyes beg the question.
“Relax, I won’t leave you alone with him. I’m a possessive man, and I don’t share.”
I don’t even know where to begin with that declaration. But what I do know is that I want him to fuck me, and now.
CHAPTER 7
