by Bella King
I open the door to the limo, a gush of hot air flowing inside as I slide out of my seat and exit onto the private street. There are two armed guards waiting to escort me to one of the Lauder Estate vehicles sitting in front of the gate, blocking the way in.
I straighten my back as I stare down the guards with a blank expression. I don’t bother to seem less threatening now that I’ve been granted permission to come to the Lauder Estate at my will for as long as I’m deemed welcome. I hope to seal the deal as quickly as possible so that I won’t have any issues in the future.
My suit jacket is unique in that I don’t feel hotter with it on. In fact, it’s built for the summer and does an excellent job of repelling heat, despite being midnight black. I had it custom made to fit my large frame. Regular suits in this price range are made for old, fat men, and I’m anything but, consisting of nearly 250 pounds of pure muscle.
It never ceases to blow my mind that rich politicians will hoard everything they can find – women, money, cars, power – but when it comes to their own health and longevity, it’s as though they couldn’t care less. I don’t fall into that trap. I’m not vain, but the pursuit of greatness has left me with a formidable appearance. I take care of my body, as well as my mind.
Despite my intimidating appearance, the guards don’t search me. If they did, they would discover I’m carrying a firearm. I always do. They can pry it out of my cold, dead hands if they want me to forgo taking it with me when I enter the Lauder Estate. I’m always armed. Always.
Alas, the guards know better than to search a man who just ensured they would all go home with a significant Easter bonus this year. One doesn’t unload eleven million dollars and get treated like any regular visitor off the street. To them, I’m precious cargo, and they’re more concerned with protecting me than the people on the estate.
“This way, sir,” one of the guards grumbles to me as we walk toward the glossy black SUV humming at the gate. He leads me to the car, opening the door for me to climb into the backseat.
I haven’t said a word to these people, and it will remain that way until I meet Cora. She’s the only one worthy of my words, aside from my limo driver. He’s been with me longer than I can even remember. It must have been at least fifteen years ago when we first met.
I fold my hands in my lap as the SUV rolls down the immaculate path to the towering mansion that houses my future bride. This alone is enough to indicate that I’ve made the right decision. Jonathan Lauder wasn’t kidding when he negotiated me up to eleven million for a chance at his daughter, stating that my initial offer of five million was pocket change to him.
Ah, well, I’ll have plenty more once I harness the power of the government to enhance my current occupation. It’s not every day that a ruthless Russian mafia boss like myself gains access to such a position with as much potential as this one. Forget getting my foot in the door; If I can pull this off, I will have blown the door straight off its golden hinges.
Chapter Three
Cora
I adjust the spaghetti straps on my white silk dress. It’s a subtle but expensive piece, likely to excite even the most critical of suitors. I have no idea who this man is, or if I will even be attracted to him, but I feel compelled to dress in a way that impresses him.
I’ve put my hair up in a neat bun on the very top of my head with the help of one of the mansion maids. They’re always so helpful, but like the bodyguards, they’re deathly quiet at all times. I hope that my suitor isn’t so shy. I’m not exactly the most talkative and extroverted person, but I do better around people who are more outgoing than I am. It brings out the adventurous side of me.
“Miss Cora,” says a thin blonde woman who I recognize as Mrs. Johnson, the estate’s community operations manager, as she pokes her head into my dressing room. She speaks with a friendly tone, finely crafted from having spent her entire life catering to the needs of foreign guests and temperamental politicians. She’s a saint amongst the sinners who occupy the seats in a merciless political realm, and probably the only person who knows how to hold a proper conversation on this estate.
I turn my head to her, and a smile spreads across her face. “You look lovely, Miss Cora,” she says. “Your guest has arrived. He’s waiting for you in the lobby.”
“Thank you,” I reply warmly, taking one final glance in the body-length mirror before I leave. I’m still not wearing shoes, but I’ve showered and done my toenails with white polish. I’m assuming it’s fine.
Mrs. Johnson is still at the door, an odd expression on her face as I step away from the mirror. “Your guest,” she says, a confused smile flickering across her face, “Is a very interesting man.”
“Is that a bad thing?” I ask, walking toward her as she moves to let me through the doorway.
“Oh, not at all. I’m just curious as to where one would meet such a man. He’s very,” she pauses, “exotic.”
I raise my eyebrows, holding back a laugh. “Oh god, what have I gotten myself into?”
“Are you friends with him?” she asks, knowing that she can get personal with me. I granted her that permission long ago when I got fed up with the stoic tendencies of everyone at the estate.
“I’ve never met the man,” I reply as I pass her. I know she’s confused by my statement, but she doesn’t question me any further. I couldn’t answer her questions about the man I’m about to meet even if I wanted to. She knows him better than I do at this point.
I walk down the hall, my feet making the faintest of sounds against the cool marble floor. My heart is the thing making the most sound as I round the corner to enter the lobby where my suitor is waiting for me. I take a deep breath before entering, trying to collect myself so that I don’t stumble over my words and make myself out to be a fool.
All heads turn to me as I walk into the lobby, and blood immediately rushes to my cheeks. I offer up a weak smile to the most intimidating man I’ve ever come across in my years on this earth. The man smiles back at me after a moment, as though he has to remember to look friendly in front of his future bride. I wonder if this is even my suitor, or a personal bodyguard sent to deliver a message from him.
“Cora.” He says my name as though he’s commanding me to kneel before him.
My eyes are wide with uncertainty as I come to a stop in front of him, my hands clasped tightly in front of me. I force them apart, letting them fall to my sides in a manner that makes me appear more comfortable. I’m far from that, but I’ve been taught to maintain appearances well.
“Nice to meet you,” I say to him, extending a hand toward him and trying to keep it from shaking like a spiderweb with a fly caught in it.
“My name is Viktor Kazakov,” the man says, clasping his large hand around mine and giving it a firm shake. “I spoke with your father, Mr. Lauder, in regard to a potential union.” He speaks with such a heavy accent that it’s unmistakable that he’s from Russia. His grammar and vocabulary are meticulous, however.
I attempt to smile at him again as he lets go of my hand. “So, you are my suitor,” I say, my brain overclocked in an attempt to process what that means for me. Unfortunately, the first thing that pops into my head is that a man his size would split me in half in the bedroom, something that both frightens me and arouses me at the same time.
Now isn’t the time for those sorts of lewd thoughts.
Viktor nods, his face returning to the serious expression he wore before I entered the room. “Perhaps we should speak in private,” he says, giving the side-eye to the bodyguards one at a time, as though to tell them to fuck off.
Normally, my bodyguards won’t let me be alone with anyone, no matter who they are, but this time they step back, allowing Viktor to stride forward and take my arm. I’m taken aback by this, but I allow him to escort me out of the lobby and down the hallway.
I resist the urge to look up at his rigid face as we make our way down the hall toward the lounge. He guides me there as though he owns the estate. I stare forward as my heart rate
makes breathing slowly damn near impossible, beating away against my ribcage like a drummer on a thousand different stimulants. Maybe that iced coffee wasn’t the best precursor to a lifechanging meet-and-greet.
“Good weather today,” Viktor says in an obvious attempt to make conversation. At least he’s trying.
“Yes, even with all the pollen,” I add.
Viktor chuckles, the first hint that he’s more than a soulless beast with the body of a god. “This pollen makes my driver sneeze. He’s not so happy with it.”
“Are you also allergic?” I ask.
Viktor chuckles again. “I’ve never been sick in my life.”
“That’s not really possible,” I reply, shaking my head and glancing up at him.
Viktor’s piercing blue eyes meet mine with such ferocity that I almost freeze before we reach the lounge. “Anything is possible when you’re a Kazakov. You will enjoy such protection as well, should you agree to marry me,” he says, his voice completely serious.
I’m fascinated by Viktor already, but probably not for the reasons he might think. Sure, he’s devilishly handsome with absolutely enchanting facial features and a body that classic bodybuilders would envy, but there’s more to him than that. Just two minutes in his presence, and I can already feel the mystery oozing off his body like a hot tar in a Mississippi summer.
We enter the lounge, and Viktor directs me to a tawny leather sofa, but he doesn’t sit with me. Instead, he makes his way to the minibar a few meters away. I cross my legs, careful not to give him a show upon his arrival. The smooth silk of my dress has a tendency to ride up my legs without me noticing. If I marry this man, I know he’s going to see me naked eventually, but I’m not quite ready for that yet.
I gaze at Viktor’s broad back as he helps himself to the minibar, marveling at how a man could even get his shoulders that wide. Is it all muscle, or is his frame naturally that big? He had to move sideways and duck to move through the doorway.
Viktor turns around, and I immediately avert my gaze, pretending to look at the gas fireplace that automatically activated the second we stepped into the room. The blue flames lick the sides of the metal logs inside, giving the convincing appearance of a real fire.
A caramel liquid swirls in Viktor’s heavy crystal glass as sits down across from me, his body sinking deep into the couch identical to the one I’m on. He takes a sip of his drink before leaning forward to speak to me.
“So, Cora, tell me about yourself,” he says, his voice as deep and rich as the aged whiskey in his glass.
I hate that question. It’s just about as vague as they come, and yet it’s asked time and time again. I’ve concocted a generic response to it, but I doubt that will be appropriate for a man who will know me better than anyone else will.
I usually respond with, “I’m twenty-two, spring is my favorite season, and I like the ice to melt a little in my soda before I drink it because I think it’s too sweet on its own,” but this time, I want to give a better answer.
I clear my throat, making sure I don’t stumble across my words as I say them. “I’m sort of introverted, but I would love to travel the world if that makes sense.”
“The world is at your disposal,” Viktor says, waving a hand in the air theatrically.
I shrug. “My father doesn’t let me leave the house,” I reply.
Viktor’s eyes widen. “And how old are you?”
“Twenty-two.”
He shakes his head. “You will go many places with me, Cora. I can promise you that. A woman as beautiful as you shouldn’t be locked away from the world. You’ll see it all.”
His words lift me up, and I feel a rush of new interest in him. Maybe this marriage is what I need in my life. I never thought about the freedoms that could come with such an arrangement, but now that Viktor has mentioned it, I’m getting excited.
I lean in as Viktor takes another sip of his drink. “Will we go to Russia?”
Viktor brings his glass down on the table with more force than necessary. “Why would you want to go there?”
I’m a bit taken aback, but I stick to my question. It’s innocent enough. “Why not? Aren’t you from Russia?”
Viktor pauses, then a smile cracks his serious face. “You’re somewhat correct, Cora. Russia is my homeland, but I am American. I have a passport and everything.”
For some reason, I doubt this, but I keep my mouth shut. I suspect Viktor doesn’t take too kindly to people questioning him if our conversation on allergies was any indication. He a man with a lot of pride, and I haven’t figured out if I like that yet.
“You should tell me a bit about yourself, too,” I say, flipping his question back to him. “What exactly do you do for a living?”
“Can’t you tell?” he asks, jerking the lapels of his suit jacket taught. “I’m a politician, like you are.”
I laugh. “I’m not a politician. I don’t actually have a job.”
Viktor frowns. “Right, but your father is,” he says, as though he’s trying to make sure that he has his facts straight.
I nod. “He’s a senator. Are you one as well? I thought Russians couldn’t hold office in the US.”
Viktor reaches for his glass, downing the rest of the whiskey before springing up from his seat. “Enough about me,” he snaps. “I’d like to hear more about you.” He turns around and walks back to the minibar as I place a finger on my lips, trying to think of what else to say.
Viktor is setting off all sorts of alarms in my head, but my father approved of him, which must count for something. I don’t exactly like my father, but he’s not going to find a con-artist or a criminal for me to marry. At least, I don’t think he would.
While Viktor is pouring his next drink, I rack my brain for something interesting to tell him about myself. These types of conversations are always so difficult.
Chapter Four
Viktor
This woman asks far too many questions for her own good. If she knew what was good for her, she would continue talking about herself and pay no mind to who I am. I hardly think it’s important anyway.
Cora sits with her lips in a soft pout, a manicured fingernail lightly pressed against the rose petal pinkness of her perfect lips. I’m having crude thoughts about her already, like how her mouth would feel around my erection, but I wash them away with another stout glass of whiskey. It’s annoying me how distracted I am about the way she looks and her delicate mannerisms. I need to focus on my mission.
I return to the couches, but I choose to sit beside her this time. It’s more intimate, and I think she might be more comfortable if she feels like I’m being down to earth with her. Evading her questions about my work probably put her on alert. It’s time to distract her and ease any worries that she might have about me.
“I really like the outdoors,” Cora says as I sink down into the smooth leather beside her.
My weight is enough to make her slide toward me. Her supple hip touches mine, sending a ridiculously strong surge through my lower half. I glance down at my crotch, making sure the deep black of my slacks is enough to mask the bulge beneath them. I imagine so, but Cora wouldn’t comment on it even if she could tell. She’s too polite of a woman. I can already see that.
I try to relate to her statement about the outdoors. I spent a lot of my life outside, but that was because I was picking pockets all afternoon or collecting empty vodka bottles for a few rubles (Russian currency) per day. I don’t want to tell her that, however. I would like to maintain the façade of a rich politician, from a long line of rich politicians.
I place my glass on the oak table in front of us and lean back on the sofa. “I like the outdoors as well. The heat here, however, can be unbearable sometimes.”
Cora nods. “I agree. Maybe we can go somewhere cooler once it gets to be summertime.”
She’s already planning ahead. Good. It seems that she’s accepted me as her future husband already, but that’s just phase one of my grand plan. Getting ma
rried and executing phase two is going to be more pressing.
I find it interesting that Cora has concentrated on travel for this entire conversation. She seems eager to get off the Lauder Estate and into the real world, but I doubt she’s prepared for the bitter taste of reality. Her life has been like maple syrup compared to mine, and the amount of privilege she’s had is enough to make her blind to how fortunate she really is.
Still, I wouldn’t want to stay in a mansion my entire life either, even if it was filled with fine whiskey and large swimming pools. Maybe if I was trapped here with Cora bouncing on top of me every night, I would be able to tolerate it, but thankfully, I’m going to have the best of both worlds. Cora will be mine to enjoy after the wedding, and we will be on our way out of here.
“I don’t want to rush you, but I’m due for another meeting in an hour, and the road is long,” I say as I glance down at the diamond-encrusted Rolex on my large wrist. “I’m assuming you’re fine with moving forward with the wedding?”
Cora looks taken aback. Perhaps I’ve spoken too soon, but she already knew what I came here to do. This shouldn’t be a surprise.
“Could we go on a date first or something?” she asks.
I’m in no mood for romance, but I can’t screw this up. If the lady wants to go on a date, then that’s what she will get. Part of me thinks it’s just an excuse to finally leave the estate, in which case, I don’t blame her for using the marriage as leverage to make it happen. I have my own game to play, as well.
“Very well,” I say, giving her a nod before throwing back the second glass of whiskey to finish it. “I can meet with you later tonight if you would like.”
“Oh, well, I’ll have to ask my father first,” she says, standing up with me as I rise.
“No need for that,” I say, waving a hand dismissively. “I’m in charge now.”
I watch in amusement as Cora’s perfect mouth drops open, as though her world has just shattered like a walnut between the sharp wooden teeth of a nutcracker. She has no idea how much influence and power I already have over her, but I enjoy watching her discover it.