Nanny for the Russian Mafia (A Man Who Knows What He Wants Book 102)
Page 6
“What kind of business?”
“It’s not important. What’s important is that you have nothing to worry about.”
“How can I relax if I know there’s a chance something bad can happen to you, Vitaly, or even me? How do I know that what happened to…” I skip over saying his brother in law’s name and his sister’s. “…isn’t connected?”
“It is connected. That’s the problem. But things in Russia aren’t as black and white as they are in your country. Here the government is the mafia. They work together hand in hand, which is a good thing, but can also be a bad thing.”
“Depending on if you’re in lockstep with the government or against them.”
“Which you never really know for sure if you are or not. In favor one minute, out the next. Most people think it would be so easy to do what I do. Just make a few calls there and a few meetings here and everything runs so smoothly. And that’s why they’re not in my position. The decisions I make affect lives, and often end them…whether figuratively or literally.”
“I’m not sure how to process your words,” I say, taking a drink and trying my best to appear calm although my hands are starting to shake.
“It’s easy. You already have my trust. Just don’t lose it.”
“I don’t plan to.”
“Good.” He takes a drink. “Now, the other morning at breakfast you had questions, but we were interrupted. Would you like to ask them now? I thought about things last night and realize it’s better if you know what you’re getting into from the beginning.”
“Thank you. I appreciate your candor.”
He says nothing, just staring at me as if he’s awaiting a laundry list of questions I have prepared so he can quickly answer them and get this “task” crossed off his list for today.
“I have a question before we even start.”
Again, no response. He’s just waiting for me to begin. “They say that people really only have two settings when it comes to interacting with other people…transactional and personal. In many Western countries social interactions have a very heavy transactional feel to them. From what I understand Russian people and many Mediterranean people don’t like this transactional style…which is why tipping often doesn’t even work. People interact socially on a much different level, no matter their station in life. But from the way you seem to have this laundry list of tasks to complete every day, and the way you’re almost waiting for my questions as if it’s something to complete and move on to something else, it almost feels transactional. It’s almost as if once you answer my questions, then you can go to the next step…which I assume in your mind is getting my clothes off.”
“Perceptive and feisty. How did I get so lucky?” He pauses. “You are exactly right, but there’s one difference…make that two. In my line of business decisions have to be made quickly so I have something of an off and on switch to my brain. It’s similar to the way I understand some writers write. They’ll lock themselves away and focus on nothing but the story they’re working on for days on end, and then they come out of their self-imposed exile and return to normal life. I’m the same, except I’m doing this every day.”
“Is that different than anyone else who has a job?”
“Yes, because many people that work roll into work late, eat at their desk, talk to some co-workers, do a bit of work, wait for lunch, go to lunch, come back and try to make it through the drowsy part of their day, and then do a bit more work before counting down to five o’clock.”
I nod. I’ve never had an office job, but I can see that making sense in some cases.
“I’m on all day…completely on. It’s one of the reasons I’d never try and raise Vitaly all by myself, and why you see me treating him with such tough love. He needs the same traits that I have if he’s to live in my world, and he is. It’s his only choice at this point and I intend to raise him that way, which also happens to be a more masculine, Russian way.”
“So why did you hire an American nanny when you already have one, and a Russian one at that?”
“Because I don’t trust her.”
“You don’t trust her, but you keep her in your home? That doesn’t seem very Alexei”…I pause, realizing I don’t even know his last name.
“Hrechka. Alexei Hrcheka.”
“Doesn’t sound very Alexei Hrcheka of you,” I say, sounding out his last name in syllables.
It’s a unique and beautiful name, and balanced, which I feel like is something he’s searching for in his life right now…and one of the reasons he brought me into his life…to help find it.
“No, it’s not. But Ludmila came with Vitaly as part of a package deal, and now I’m attempting to unpackage that deal and do so on my own terms.”
“Package deal?”
“Vitaly is familiar with her and from what I see he likes her. I don’t. Not only that I don’t truly know what Ludmila is up to, but she’s connected to the Kremlin. I know this, but I don’t know in exactly what capacity. I can’t just give her the ax or there will be repercussions, although I don’t know what they would be or how severe. Would this be a problem for me? Probably not, but why risk it? Life is more art than science. It’s one of the things I feel many men don’t understand and women do. If I give Ludmila a different set of responsibilities until I can learn more about her and what her true motives are, it gives me time to make a decision about what to ultimately do with her…and more importantly what she’s trying to extract from me.”
“You think she’s working for someone else?”
“In Russia someone is always working for someone else, even if it’s simply themselves. There’s more to Ludmila than meets the eye. With you caring for Vitaly I can keep a closer eye on her and find out who she’s providing information to.”
“What makes you think she’s providing information.”
Alexei leans back in his leather seat and it doesn’t even make a sound. I can only imagine how much these things costs and the specs to which they were made.
“I’ve already said too much. Don’t worry about her too much. She’s not able to cause any problems for you in the house. I’ve got her on tight security. Just focus on Vitaly and everything will be fine.”
“How do you know you’ve got her on tight security?”
I’m close to exposing what I found in the bathroom, but I’m not sure this is the time or place, not to mention I don’t know who’s behind it yet. If I point a finger at Ludmila and I’m wrong then Alexei may distrust me…and Ludmila will surely figure out what I did and seek revenge. But if I don’t tell Alexei and something happens then I have a secret I have to bear, and I’m terrible at keeping my emotions hidden…especially if something were to happen and I felt guilty for it…if I could have done something to stop it.
But we’re all here on this jet, that is now taking off, so no one can harm us. I’m best to keep my mouth shut and let this quick vacation play out before I decide what to do.
Not to mention there’s something about this whole bunga bunga business I don’t like. And I feel like the more information I can obtain about that, the better my decision to share or not to share, what I found in the bathroom will be.
I turn and see Vitaly looking out the window as the plane ascends. The smile on his face is priceless, and even though I’ve only flown once in my life before, and that was to get to Russia, the experience of watching him take it all in is even better than looking out the window myself.
As someone who never had a family I figured I didn’t need one, and never wanted one. I’m barely eighteen years old but now, out of nowhere, I can really picture myself here with Vitaly and Alexei. It’s perfect…too perfect in fact.
And that’s what scares me.
Both in the good way, and in the bad. Because I know there’s bad lurking under the surface here…I just don’t know what it is. Yet.
CHAPTER 13
Alexei
“Please, Crystal. It’s rude not to accept a gift.”
“It’s nothing. And you’ll need it for dinner tonight.”
“I thought we were staying in?”
“We are, but that doesn’t mean we won’t get dressed up. I don’t dress up for other people. I dress up for myself, and for you. And I know you’d like to do the same.”
She knows I’m not wrong, and when her cheeks turn bright red I’m closer to her agreeing to that little black Prada dress that will look incredible on her under the candlelight tonight in our chalet.
“I don’t know.”
“I do. Listen,” I say, taking her face in my hands. “I know you’re not keeping track but Vitaly got ten times this much today at FAO Schwartz. The least you can do is accept one gift. I’ve been trying to get you to take something all day, and if I’m being honest this gift is just as much for me as it is for you.”
“For you?”
“Because I get to be the first, and only one, to see you in it.”
I gently move her head up and down in my hands, forcing her into a yes.
“Okay.”
“Okay,” I repeat, as I turn to the sales associate.
Crystal has to get used to me spoiling her because there’s going to be a lot of it. To a certain point I like that she doesn’t want my gifts. She’s a smart girl. She knows nothing in life is free, except when it is. I want to give her so much just because of all the pleasure she’s giving me. The pleasure of taking in her beauty, youth, and exuberance every day. Watching her play with Vitaly and seeing how he’s bonding with her more and more. And of course knowing that she’s mine, whether she’s come to terms with it or not.
The clerk is out of sight and it’s just the two of us in this corner of the shop. Her face is still in my hands and I want to kiss her so damn bad, just not here. Our first kiss can’t be like this. It needs to be perfect, just like her.
“Thank you, Alexei.”
“For nothing. I’m the one who owes the thanks to you.”
We leave the shop and at this point I don’t even know how I’m able to maintain control right now. My arm is around her shoulder as she takes Vitaly’s hand. We make the perfect family. All we’d need right now is to have our picture taken here in these cobblestone Swiss streets with the chocolate shop and watchmaker signs in the background and you’d have a Christmas card that everyone would buy.
But I’d never let them. This memory is mine all mine and I’m not about to share it with anyone other than the three of us.
If Vitaly wasn’t with us right now I’d yank her inside one of these quaint little chocolate shops, cover her body in syrup, and lick off every last drop.
My dick is so fucking hard right now, and it wasn’t because of the compression from the flight over. Every time I was around her my heart was pumping overtime, filling my body with oxygenated blood that was blasting through my veins and arteries, and making my cock throb to a point where it was painful to even stand.
Damn, I wanted inside her so bad. I wanted to feel her pussy clench around my cock as my mouth claimed hers at the same time.
I feel my arm on her shoulder tighten, as I pull her in even closer and grip the side of her arm with my fingers, my possessiveness running wild.
I was never a romantic before, and apparently my body and mind were ready to make up for lost time. How could you not feel romantic in a place like this, but it wasn’t because of the amazing Swiss scenery. It was because of her.
“I’m burning up,” I say, stopping so I can remove my jacket.
“You’re not cold?”
“You make me hot.”
She blushes and I try and turn it down with Vitaly right here, but he’s looking at all the little bridges and beautiful brick buildings. He’s already fascinated by architecture and of course trains. The trams that are running through the city are close enough for him to see.
We get back to the chalet and because it’s a vacation I allow Vitaly to eat a cheeseburger and chocolate bar for dinner. Also, I know that a heavy meal will knock him out, and it does exactly that.
While Crystal is getting him put to bed, I make a simple cheese fondue the Swiss are famous for, that I know she’s going to love.
When I hear her reading him a bedtime story I sneak into the master bedroom and change my underwear. I’m embarrassed, like a schoolboy, at the fact that I’ve got so much precome leaking from my rod that my underwear is wet to the point where it’s uncomfortable.
I reach down and adjust myself, glad to be in a dry pair of drawers, but knowing they’re not going to be dry for long. There’s no stopping my need for her. Not now. Not ever.
Seconds after I’m back in the kitchen I feel the heat from her body close to mine and I can’t take it anymore. This game of tug-of-war has been going on all day today. I’d get closer to her in the shop but Vitaly would start eyeing us. I felt her body against mine as we walked through the streets, but there was nothing I could do about it. We talked at lunch, our faces growing closer, but it wasn’t appropriate to share our first kiss under those circumstances we were in.
Not anymore.
There’s no more time for formalities, niceties, or any of that stuff. It’s time for the raw, primal need that has built to a fever pitch inside me to take over. I don’t have a chance to stop it even if I wanted to. And I damn sure don’t.
I grab her body and pull her close into me, feeling her chest press into my torso. Her nipples are already hard, and I can feel the peaks poking through the fabric of her dress and into my skin.
I drop the spoon I was using to stir the damn cheese fondue and grab her face like I own it, and I do. It’s mine. She’s mine.
I lean in and without hesitation I claim her mouth, pulling her body even closer into mine, all of her pressing up against my front as our bodies crash together.
My erection grinds into her stomach as her hands wrap around my body. I shift my weight from one foot to the other, trying to release the force my dick is placing on my trousers. It’s no use, but it does elicit a groan from her that damn near has my dick tearing right through the fabric.
Our kiss intensifies, my tongue searching out every part of her mouth, claiming her as my fingers hold her waist tight, possessively, letting her know she’s not going anywhere…ever.
Our bodies are moving in an almost dance, or some sort of dry humping fashion, as we continue to devour each other’s faces and I swear I could come right now, fully clothed, if I’m not careful.
The heat from her mouth enters mine as mine does the same to hers. She mewls into me and I practically unload right then and there.
My fingertips trace her feminine jawline and then slide down her throat, gripping it slightly on the way down, holding her in place as our mouths continue to face fuck each other.
I can feel the blood rushing through her veins, or is that mine? At this point I don’t know what’s hers and what’s mine and that’s exactly the point.
Ours. Mine.
We’re becoming one, and when I slide inside her, our bodies pressed together, it will be impossible to tell where one of us ends and the other begins because we’ll be connected so damn close, so fucking tight, that we may never come apart. They’ll have to call the fire truck to come out with those Jaws of Life to pull us apart, and even that may not work.
We’ll be like those mummies that are buried together, their bodies completely intertwined.
But we’ll be alive, morphing into one as I fill her with my seed and we create a life together of our own.
Just thinking about it has me dreaming of making twins, triplets, hell…twenty babies with her.
I want everything with her, and all at once. Because that’s exactly how she came into my life, like a tornado and flipped my whole world upside down and made it spin at the same time.
I’m lost in my desire for her, in my passion for her, and in her love for my child. In her simplicity and her elegance. In her feistiness and her mannerism. She’s mastered
the yin and the yang and knows the time to employ each.
And she’s mine.
“You’re so fucking perfect,” I rumble into her ear as I smell her sweet scent. “And so fucking mine.”
“So yours,” she says, and hearing her accept my claim and reinforce it only reinforces what I already knew, not that I needed to hear it but damn it sure is nice.
Mine.
I bite down softly on her shoulder as the black spaghetti strap of her Prada dress slides off her shoulder.
“Alexei,” she whimpers. Hearing her say my name like that is the most erotic sound on the fucking planet.