VLAD (The V Games #1)(22)
No man can ever have too much of an arsenal.
I crave to look at the stack of photos at the back of the safe, but now’s not the time. Pictures of my siblings and I when we were children are held dear beside my mother’s jewelry and Viktor’s old wallet. No pictures of my mother exist. All I have left of her is what’s in this safe and sketchy memories of her smile. But with my brother’s wallet, I can sometimes hold the leather to my nose and inhale the cologne lingering on to it. The memories of him are bolder and still etched into my mind. Fuck, how I miss my brother.
I realize I’ve stopped to touch the wallet. I stifle a groan and quickly shut the safe. When I turn to regard Oleg, juices run down his stubbly jaw and drip on his shirt. It makes me twitchy to grip his thick throat and drag him from my pristine office. Instead, I take a page from Father’s book and ignore what disgusts me. I set the bag of money at his feet and then unbutton my suit jacket. With a quick tug, I pull it from my body and hang it from a hook in the corner.
I’m on edge after seeing Viktor’s wallet.
It’s a constant reminder that he’s gone.
Fury at my sister sets my soul on fire. I wish to tug at my tie and loosen it, but I refuse to show weakness, even in front of a man who wouldn’t notice if weakness slapped him in the face. I place my hands on my hips and stand behind my desk, my legs slightly parted. The vest I’m wearing fits snugly over my crisp white dress shirt. I’m uncomfortable and realize I must be spending too much time in the gym training with Stepan. I’m outgrowing my damn clothes.
“The women?” I ask.
Oleg sticks one of his dirty fingers in his mouth and slurps off the juicy remnants. With his eyes on his hand, I allow myself one moment to show my disgust. I snarl my lip up and shake my head. Fucking disgusting. How Father put up with this for decades is beyond me.
“Well,” he says, once he’s satisfied he’s clean. “I’ve got fifteen out in the truck. Dirty as all fucking hell, but Yuri likes ‘em that way. The dirtier the better. Some of dem bitches are even into humiliation.” He grabs at his crotch and grins salaciously at me.
“We don’t need them into anything,” I bark. “We need them strong and pliable.”
“The money?”
“You know it’s already in the bag.”
He grunts and raises his hand like he’s going to throw his core across the room and into my trashcan. Over my goddamn body.
Before I can open my mouth to threaten him, I lock eyes with a pair of icy blues watching me from a dark corner of my office.
Little Irina.
I’m so stunned by her sudden appearance, I allow the dipshit to throw—and miss, for that matter—his core at my trashcan. He grunts and stands to go pick it up. I can’t look away from the little girl hiding in my office, watching my business like it’s her God-given right.
She sits primly, wearing a plain, fitted black dress. Her silky blonde hair has been straightened and hangs in front of the swell of her breasts. A black headband keeps the hair from her eyes. To an outsider, they’d think of her as an ordinary girl, barely a woman.
But ordinary girls don’t spy on Russian mobsters without fear in their eyes.
No, a challenge dances in her blue-eyed stare. A challenge that, for a moment, speaks right to my cock. It twitches, and I force my stare from her supple, swollen lips. Lips I’d nibble the fuck out of. I’d take that silky hair of hers and wrap it tightly around her slender throat. Watch her eyes gloss over with tears. I’d bring her to the brink of death, only to reawaken her and show her how alive she really is.
“Need to check out the merchandise?” Oleg asks, dragging me from beautiful visions I’d much rather dwell on. His gaze flits over to the corner and he whistles. “Well, I’ll be goddamned, boy. Is this the one you’re marrying?” He waves, far too friendly for an arms dealer, motioning her to him. “Come here, pretty little thing. Introduce yourself to Uncle Oleg.”
I grit my teeth and glower at Irina. I knew the Volkov ladies would arrive today, but I certainly didn’t expect to see either of them until dinner. Having her here will prove to be more difficult than I originally thought. Perhaps seeing the skanks out in the truck will help the state of my cock. It would also do well to put my little shadow in her place. Now that they are here, they don’t run things as they once did.
They are merely pawns.
Gorgeous pawns, no doubt, but still pawns.
“Come,” I bark out and snap my fingers, pointing to the carpet in front of me.
Irina’s cheeks flush, but she obeys. That really gets my dick hard. Images of her on her knees in front of me flash. Her blonde tresses tangled in my fist as I skull-fuck her pretty mouth. Slowly, as though her walk itself is meant to seduce me, she makes her way over to me. I notice every detail as she moves. The way she bites her fat bottom lip that I’d love to suck. The way her neck turns slightly pink in my presence. The way her small tits bounce with each step she takes beneath her dress.
Sweet, Irina, you’ve showed your cards far too soon.
You want me, but you can’t have me, my love.
She stops in front of me and looks up. Her nostrils flare as she inhales my scent. It does something to my insides. Basic and male. I have the urge to grip her slender, unmarked throat and squeeze until it bears my memory for days.
Would her plump, pink lips turn blue?