by Bella King
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 get
s 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 married 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.
“Are-are you sure?” Cora stammers, the cutest frown I’ve ever seen occupying her precious face.
I chuckle, unable to hide my enjoyment at her confusion. “Yes,” I reply. “Your father has entrusted me with your safety and wellbeing. I would never do anything to jeopardize it.”
Cora’s face is a mix of excitement and confusion. I’m sure she’ll call her father once I leave and double-check if what I’ve said is true. I don’t blame her for not trusting me yet, but she’ll learn her place soon enough.
Truthfully, I like Cora more than I thought that I would. She’s bursting at the seams with curious energy, nearly falling over herself with a desire to get out and explore what the world has to offer. I can give her what she wants, which means I can take her hand in marriage easily.
“Alright,” I say, turning away from the sofas. “I must go now. It was a pleasure to meet you, and I look forward to seeing you for our date tonight. How does nine o’clock sound?”
Cora is still too taken aback to process what’s going on, but she nods quietly, agreeing to the time. I’ll return to pick her up after my meeting with the people who made my fake passport. I have a few corrections that I want them to make before I feel comfortable stepping foot on a plane again.
“I’ll walk you to the door,” Cora eagerly says as I start to leave. She jumps beside me, her legs taking her much further than I expected for how short she is.
She’s a wild girl, I can already tell, and we’re going to have a good time together once I get everything arranged. She might just be a pawn in my chess match, but that doesn’t mean I can’t have fun with her whilst playing the game.
“Thank you, Cora,” I reply to her politely, maintaining my proper demeanor for as long as I can.
She seems to have already shrugged off formalities, but I’m not so quick to do so. The mafia life has taught me never to let my guard down, even to a woman as sweet and innocent as Cora. The innocent are often more dangerous than the guilty because they can be manipulated without you suspecting it. Sometimes, much nastier people are the ones pulling their strings.
I walk with Cora down the hallway again, holding her thin arm in mine as we go. She smells like vanilla and coconut, an intoxicating combination, like a dessert waiting to be eaten. It’s difficult for me to believe that I’ll have her to myself when the time comes.
Assuming everything goes smoothly, the wedding will be scheduled for two weeks from the point at which she agrees to marry me. I already have an engagement ring in her size. I had brought it with me, unsure of whether she was expecting a formal proposal yet, or if she would want me to wait. It seems that I must bide my time, however, and lure her in with dreams of traveling the world.
“I’m looking forward to dinner,” Cora says as we return to the lobby.
The guards are still standing in the same positions that we left them in.
I smile down at her, holding her soft hand in mine before I exit. “The pleasure will be all mine. I can assure you.”
Her high cheeks turn pink at my words, and I can’t hide a smirk on my lips as I turn away. She’s going to be like dough in my hands pretty soon, bending to my every desire. Cora Lauder, you’re mine.
Chapter Five
Cora
Viktor Kazakov is a dangerous man. It’s not just because he’s triple the size of me and appears to be able to bend iron in his massive hands. It’s also because he has captivated me in a way that no man ever has, and it’s only our first meeting.
I know that something is off about him, though. He may make me swoon, but I get the sneaking suspicion that he’s up to something more than just trying to marry me. A bogus claim about American citizenship and a deal with my father are enough to make this seem fishy. I need to know more, and dinner is the perfect opportunity.
Gosh, when was the last time I left the estate? It feels like ages, but it hasn’t been more than a few months. Going out simply for pleasure and not for business, however, is new for me. I can hardly contain the excitement bubbling up in my body.
I can finally breathe now that Viktor has left. I let out a sigh as I watch the escort car take him away from the house from the thick, bulletproof panes of glass occupying my bedroom window. His presence puts me on edge, and I have no idea how to act around him.
I wait until the escort car disappears out of sight completely to peel myself away from the window and prepare for dinner. I know it will be a while until he returns, but I want to look extra special if I’m leaving the estate. I wouldn’t miss a chance to dress up and finally be seen by regular people.
I consider calling my father and asking him if this is alright, but I should trust Viktor. Sure, he’s not anything like what I expected my father to find for me, but that’s not a bad thing. He’s a lot more interesting than I expected too, and I feel the firm tug of adventure at my collar as I begin going through my drawers in search of something to wear.
“Is Viktor taking you out somewhere?” Mrs. Johnson says from my bedroom doorway as I pull open a drawer filled with dresses next to my bed.
I spin around as though I’ve been caught doing something wrong. “He said it was okay,” I blurt.
Mrs. Johnson laughs. “Yes, of course, my dear. Your father has given him permission to take some authority over you.”
“I’m an adult, you know,” I say, repeating after Viktor. “I can make my own decisions too.”
“It’s for your safety, believe me,” Mrs. Johnson says, shaking her head. “I’ve seen what happens to women like you when they’re cast out into the public. Politicians have many enemies.”
I roll my eyes. “Maybe they wouldn’t if they were nicer.” I can’t think of a
single thing that my father had done in the government that ever benefited regular people. It’s no surprise to me that he has enemies. I often wish I was never part of this complicated system, but I would never voice that to anyone here. They would shame me for even having such thoughts.
I can tell Mrs. Johnson has to bite her tongue at my comment. Her purpose is to ease the friction between people, not to aggravate it, and I’m sure she doesn’t agree with me. That doesn’t bother me, though, because I know that I’m right. I never liked my father, and I doubt I ever will.
Mrs. Johnson smiles at me and taps her long pink nails against the mahogany doorframe. “If there are any issues that arise while you’re in Mr. Kazakov’s care, don’t hesitate to give me a call.”
“How?” I ask. I don’t own a phone.
Mrs. Johnson steps into the room fully, pulling a slim black cellphone from behind her back and holding it out to me as she comes forward. “This is on our secure private network. You’ll only be able to make calls to security and me.”
I take the phone from her and look black screen with the time displayed in white. It’s not very modern, but that doesn’t bother me. I’ve never had a phone. I own a computer, but it’s not connected to the internet, so I don’t use it much.
“Thanks,” I reply, placing the phone on top of the dresser and leaning back in, searching through the available dresses. I can still feel Mrs. Johnson behind me, her blue eyes burning a hole in my back.
“I’d be careful around Mr. Kazakov if I were you,” she warns.
I turn back to her again. “What do you mean?” It’s unusual for her to comment on the people that come in and out of the estate. She normally very formal about everyone, even if they’re crooked and unpleasant.
Mrs. Johnson purses her thin lips, as though she’s holding back her true feelings. “Just take precautions while you’re out. It’s not something you have experience with.”
I squint at her and tilt my head. “Is there something wrong with Viktor?” I ask, delving straight into the point she’s trying to talk around.