Boyfriend By The Hour: Bad Boy Russian Mafia Series (Minutemen Series Book 1)

by L. L. Ash

  I wanted to scream and break something, but I was the one who told him to go home.

  Inside my car, I saw him pause and dig back into his pocket, pulling out a lighter. As my driver got moving slowly into traffic, Serge looked up, and I swear he could see me through my heavily tinted windows. His eyes burned almost like the flame that licked up at the end of his cigarette.

  The lighter flicked off and slid back into his pocket as he took the cigarette between two fingers, his lips spreading in a smirk as he winked at me.

  Maybe he could see me. He had to be able to see me. And he knew I was watching him, too.

  “Heading home Ms. Wilder?” Jimmy asked as we drove away down the street.

  “Yes, please,” I agreed and sat back.

  If I wasn’t careful, I could probably fall for the self assured, confident, and observant man, fifteen years too young and all.

  Maybe I just needed to let him have his way with me. Maybe after that the romance of it would be gone and the intense desire would dissolve. No doubt he’d be good at what he was paid for, but the fantasy was just that.

  A fantasy.

  No way he was the man I saw when I looked at him. His job was literally to get women to like him. He made a very good living of adjusting himself to be everything the woman he was with at that moment, wanted.

  He was not, at his core, the man I danced with tonight. And there was no way I could let myself feel anything for him besides simple, animal lust for a beautiful body.

  Taking a long, calming breath, I settled back into my seat and promised myself that I would not do something stupid, like fall in love with an escort.

  Chapter Seven

  Serge

  I took a long walk home, hoping I could get rid of the raging erection Adele had given me. Like seriously, what the fuck? We were humping and grinding on the dance floor, then all of a sudden she said no and I was going home alone? She was paying me, an escort, for my services. And she wouldn’t even use them!

  So far I’d let her off twice. I didn’t want her money if I didn’t provide my full services. But maybe I’d have to re-think my strategy. If dates were all she wanted, then I’d need to charge her. I’d just charge her less.

  Yeah, maybe that’s what I would do.

  But I didn’t want to. I liked going on dates with her, acting myself with her instead of playing at being some conceited asshole or some young, dumb boy. It was kind of strange, but me, my own personality, was really what Adele got off on. Kind of conceited, kind of nice… I was a proverbial unicorn, but nobody really knew that because nobody really knew the real me. Hell, for a while there, I didn’t know the real me. I’d lost myself in my early twenties, and I’d only begun to realize that there was a separate me, away from the money, the whoring and the fucking. There’s a me that loved art, good food, dancing and fucking incense. That’s right, I loved incense.

  Maybe it was the cigarettes that drew me to incense. Smoking was an old habit I started a long time ago, and honestly, I’d had a really hard time trying to stop. Women didn’t usually like me smelling like smoke, with the exception of Maggie, of course, and so it’d become a thing I had to do when I knew I wasn’t going to get laid. Like on Sunday. Sunday was a great day for me to smoke. I usually had a cigarette on the way to my grandmother’s house, and one on the way back, and a couple more here and there because while my fuckhouse was smoke clean, my personal apartment wasn’t.

  Luckily Natalia did a good job getting it out of my clothes, or rather, she knew what drycleaner to take my clothes to.

  But I digress.

  Simply put, Adel drove me to smoke. Leaving me high and dry like she did tonight? I’d be taking another shower to relieve myself because damn, I’d been so fucking hard for her ever since she showed up wearing that skin tight green dress, sexy heels and wavy dark brown hair that almost reflected my face in it, it was so shiny and lush. And her ass? Smokin’. I didn’t realize women going into middle age could still have bubble butts, but she somehow managed to keep her youth intact. Her face looked youthful, and her eyes sparkled with life. It was enchanting that a woman of her age could still not be jaded by men in general.

  And I called her malishka. I’d never once called a woman a nickname in Russian. Honestly, very few women even knew what nationality I'd come from. They were too busy enjoying my body to ask what region my name came from.

  But not Adele.

  Adele paid attention, was curious about me, and she wanted more than just my body. She wanted my mind, too. And to me, that was addicting.

  There was no way she needed to pay me for my company. The woman was a guy’s wet dream, but still she came to me. And honestly, I wouldn’t turn away a woman that I found so incredibly interesting. Especially before I fucked her.

  Sighing, I lit up another cigarette in bed after jerking off to thoughts of her while I was in the shower, but she still wasn’t gone, out of my head. Maybe it’d take some time, but I would have her. And when I did, I’d savor it for as long as I could. That woman was mine, at least until she realized how desirable she was. Then some other jackhole would marry her, taking her away from me forever and I’d be left with what I always was. An endless cycle of women, paying me to fuck them until they forgot about their rich-bitch problems.

  Adele

  I was sitting in my office chair, swirling around in it for a little while, my finger hovering over his number.

  Our date was only a couple days ago, but already I was jittery to see him again. Rachel had stopped by my office earlier to tease the hell out of me, and to also ask if we’d boned yet. Of course the answer was no, and I felt weird every time she asked because I knew that they had boned, and it was kind of like getting seconds. But then again, I was ok with seconds sometimes. I mean, sometimes things are better the second time around, right?

  I pressed my thumb down on the button and brought the phone to my ear.

  “malishka,” his voice purred over the line before it even rang twice.

  “H-Hi,” I stumbled, then made a fist and forced a calming breath. “Hey Serge.”

  “Miss me already?” he asked with gravel in his tone.

  “Are you always this full of yourself?” I clipped back.

  “Always,” he chuckled.

  The sound sent quivers down my spine and into my legs.

  “I just wanted to get our next date scheduled,” I said after a moment of silence. “Get it on the books, you know?”

  “Books?” he huffed, “Who the fuck said I was that organized?”

  I couldn’t help but laugh at that.

  “I’d think you’d have to have books in order to keep all the girls you see in order.”

  “I do what I have to, but my memory is pretty good. Like I know, for instance, that today for lunch, I’m free.”

  “Lunch?” I questioned.

  He’d never once said anything about how the pricing would work if we just met for a meal like lunch.

  “Yes, lunch,” he agreed waiting on my response.

  “Well, I just happen to have lunch free too,” I agreed hesitantly.

  “Tell you what. I’ll pick something up on the way to you. We can eat at your office.”

  “I’m actually heading to the studio in a few minutes...”

  “Just give me an address, Adele. I’ll meet you there.”

  My heart started fluttering all over again, and it was annoying. I was too old for all this nervousness at seeing a boy.

  “That’s fine,” I say decisively. “I’ll text it to you. I’m glad to see you again.”

  “Mmm, me too, malishka. See you soon.”

  He hung up and I pressed my phone on my glass desk to release the breath I’d evidently held.

  Ok. Send him the address and get on with your day… I told myself as I punched in the numbers, then get my briefcase and headed toward the door.

  I had some things to check on at the studio and needed to chat with some of the producers.

  W
hen my town car pulled up to the studio, I immediately got pulled into a whirlwind of crew as people flew silently around the studio, adjusting lights, working on the audio and mics, half of them standing behind screens and working on the angles behind the camera men.

  It was pure chaos everywhere you looked, and it felt just like home.

  Silently, one of my producers urged me over to a stack of monitors and pointed to one of our salespeople that urged our watchers to buy whatever it was that we got in on at a good wholesale price.

  “Linda has been struggling today,” Ryan told me with a frown. “I’m thinking about yanking her.”

  “What do you mean struggling?” I asked back.

  He scratched the salt and pepper stubble on his chin with a sandpapery sound, considering it.

  “I’m not sure exactly. She’s just not connecting, you know? Sales have been down twenty percent since Linda got on.”

  “Pull her over the next segment and I’ll have a chat with her. We’ll see why she’s having a disconnect. That’s not normally like her.”

  He just nodded as one of the interns comes running up to us, shoes slapping the carpeted floors.

  Five different people whisper-shouted for him to shush before he told me with scarlet cheeks, “Some dude is here for you, Ms. Wilder. A Mister Volkov.”

  “Show him in,” I waved my hand at him before turning back to my producer.

  “Next segment break is in eight minutes,” he told me with his frown deepening.

  “Who do we have to switch with?”

  “Dave is here.”

  “But he’s our electronics guy.”

  “I know,” he sighed.

  “Get onto it then,” I said just as a whoosh of something fresh and spicy and citrusy hit my nose.

  “Malishka,” a strong, beautiful voice followed the hit of his cologne. Different this time than the last two times we met.

  Suddenly he'd managed to twist me around and he was kissing me in front of everyone.

  “I need a couple more minutes,” I said with a quivering voice. “You can wait for me in my office if you want.”

  “I’ll wait for you right here,” he shrugged, then proceeded to look around.

  Ryan, along with my other staff members, were all looking at Serge like he was an alien. A very fit, very attractive, alien. And I didn’t blame them.

  I almost never dated, and I’d never brought a man to work before. They’d never seen me get kissed, and probably thought I was A-sexual by that point.

  “Who’s this?” Ryan was the first to speak up in a low tone.

  With the live show going on, we had to be careful with our volume as we spoke.

  “Sergei Volkov,” Serge puts out his hand and they shook over the heads of the video engineers, who looked entirely too interested in our conversation instead of their jobs.

  Our DP walked up all stealthily and snapped a shot of Serge before letting his camera settle down on his chest, asking about Serge.

  “I’m Adele’s boyfriend,” Serge said completely serious and proud, as if he truly were.

  Eyes lit up and questions started getting flung toward him.

  “I’m in sales,” he told them.

  “What do you sell?” Ryan asked back, entirely too interested in my pretend boyfriend.

  “What does every salesperson sell?” Serge quirked his eyebrow. “I sell myself.”

  Oh my God… If only they knew how friggin’ literal he was being.

  “Only the good salespeople know that trick,” our DP piped in.

  “I’m good at what I do,” Serge smirked, then met my eyes.

  He’s enjoying this.

  “Let him run the segment,” Ryan suddenly said.

  “With women’s clothes?” I practically gape at my producer.

  “Look at the guy. The viewers will love him, and he’s dressed nice. Get some makeup on him and we’ll give him a lowdown of the product.”

  Serge’s eyes widen as he took in the conversation.

  “Don’t ask me,” I said finally, positive that Serge would say no, but when Ryan turned to him, before he even asked, Serge nodded.

  “Sure. I like to stay flexible with my sales techniques.”

  Gaping, he just winked at me in my shock.

  “Serge, you’re not trained or...”

  “Give him a chance,” Ryan narrowed his eyes on Serge almost aggressively.

  Did Ryan not like Serge? Did they know each other?

  “Well...”

  Shit… This was absolutely unheard of and never, ever done. He could very well make a fool of himself on national TV. Not to mention he’s a friggin’ escort. How many of the women watching would recognize him?

  “A moment,” I told Serge, pulling his hand to a private corner of the studio.

  “What’s the matter?” he asked in a low voice, touching my chin and looking into my eyes.

  Hypnotizing me.

  “This is a bad idea,” I whispered at him. “This is shown all over the country. Women you’ve...worked with… will recognize you.”

  “There’s no fucking way any of the women I’ve worked with are watching a shopping network on TV. And beside that, I’m protected if they are. They all signed an NDA, which you haven’t yet, by the way. And they have just as much to lose if they get ratted out as I do. Maybe more.”

  I blew out a long breath.

  “Are you sure? You don’t know anything about this...”

  “I’ve actually watched a fair share of it since we started dating,” he smirked at me. “I wanted to be knowledgeable in your business.”

  “You are such a brown noser, aren’t you?”

  He laughed and leaned forward, pressing another kiss to my lips.

  “I’m thorough. And you’ll be grateful of that when you eventually let me take you home.”

  “Oh my God...not here! Everyone is watching.”

  “That’s the point,” he hummed against my lips before kissing me yet again.

  “Seriously, I’m ok with nobody knowing about this. I didn’t have you come here to flaunt you around. I don’t want to use you, Serge.”

  His smirk softened at that, both his hands coming to my face before dropping his forehead to mine.

  “I don’t give one fuck what these people think of me. I just want them to know you’re mine.”

  My stomach started to flutter and my heart started pumping so hard. No doubt I was blushing like a maniac.

  His gaze dropped to my lips and he pulled his own full lip into his mouth and bit down with a groan.

  “I hate that you’re making me wait, malishka. You drive me crazy.”

  My chest was heaving, and I backed away, waving at my face to cool myself down.

  “We’ll see how you do with this and re-visit that discussion.”

  “Mmm! You turn that sexy ass on me, malishka, and I’m going to watch it cross the room.”

  He said that loud enough that most people in the room turned toward us and he just winked at me.

  “Get makeup,” I told one of the assistants standing around, trying to ignore the heat that followed me from Serge’s eyes.

  She went flying off toward the set to get the makeup artist and I followed, standing beside the main cameraman for the segment to end and for a commercial to roll.

  Linda saw me and tried not to notice, but she became even stiffer, which put the guest host on edge.

  Someone at the main station started to silently countdown, then they gave a shout as the channel went to commercial, and suddenly the chaos exploded in loud voices and shouts.

  “Linda,” I called to her.

  She moved closer, looking ashamed.

  “I’m sorry, Ms. Wilder. I’m having some...family issues right now and...”

  “We found someone to take over for a little bit, ok? Take a break, get a coffee, and Ryan wants to have a conversation with you. Don’t worry, alright? Nobody’s mad.”

  She breathed a sigh of relief and steppe
d off the stage.

  Chapter Eight

  Adele

  Serge was ushered up, the commercial break only two minutes long before we were live again, so he was getting one last dusting of powder before the makeup bib was practically torn from his neck and Ryan was pushing him up on the stage.

  Serge winked at me before going to meet the guest, shaking her hand and smiling all charming-like.

  It irked me to share his charm with another woman, but it didn’t matter. Serge wasn’t mine, and never would be. I only had him temporarily.

  “We’re on in 5-4-3-” Ryan called before putting up two fingers, then one, before pointing at Serge.

  My stomach was roiling and nervous for him. I’d be throwing up if I was just shoved up on stage without any training or information on what the hell I was trying to sell.

  “I gave him the cue cards,” Ryan whispered, stepping up beside me at the side of the stage.

  “He’s not qualified to do this,” I practically growled at him.

  “Do you know who he is?” Ryan asked, turning to me and away from the charming smile Serge was giving the camera.

  “What do you mean?” I asked Ryan.

  “I mean, I went to high school with that hack. I don’t know if you’re really dating the guy or...what. But he used to be a prostitute, Adele. Seriously. I’d get the guy tested.”

  My mouth opened in shock.

  “In high school?” I asked him.

  “Made more money than the drug dealers. Be weary of him. For all I know he’s still doing it.”

  Oh God...

  “I can assure you, he’s really a salesman,” I told Ryan with a low whisper.

  “Oh yeah? You seen his office? You know the company he works for?”

  I just stood there and stuttered.

  “Get a PI or something to check the guy out, Ad. I don’t want you to get hurt.”

  The sincerity in his eyes was shadowed with anger.

  What kind of past did they have?

  “Just drop it,” I told him, putting a hand up to stop any further arguments.