Chapter 16

Yaroslav

S tanding at the bar I take another gulp of neat vodka, watching from a distance as my sister talks to Kim. It’s clear from their body language this is their first meeting, but this does little to ease my turbulent thoughts. I don’t like the fact that Kim’s friend Amelia is here. It doesn’t line up with her not knowing anything about my world. It means that Kim could have ulterior motives for getting close to me. Especially now she seems so keen to get to know my sister. I’ve been burned too many times to trust anything or anyone at face value.

I spot Artem in the crowd and beckon him over.

“Evening Boss, hitting the hard stuff already?” he says, his tone more concerned than judgmental, Artem’s known me long enough to spot when something is troubling me.

“Yes. Join me?” I say, more an order than a question, as I gesture to the bartender to pour two more glasses.

Artem silently accepts the drink, taking a sip and wincing. It’s hard to get the really good vodka here. Most of the American bigwigs favor scotch or whiskey. I continue to watch Kim chatting with my sister and Amelia, she throws her head back and laughs at something Marta says just as two men approach them. One I recognize as my sister’s husband, Jackson Brown. He’s aged, as has Marta – it’s been almost twenty years since I last saw them in person. But otherwise, he seems unchanged from what I recall, not that I spent much time with him before he and my sister moved to England.

Marta got her fairytale ending, the rich husband who is as clean as a whistle, earning his fortune the good old-fashioned, legal way. Marta never came back to Russia. Meanwhile, after our parents were killed, I had to stay behind and run the family empire at only sixteen. I’d have been lost without my uncle’s guidance. Apart from the occasional gift and phone call, I’ve had no contact with her. Eventually, I stopped answering her calls. Uncle Innokentiy suggested that it was best for everyone, Marta had confided in him she wanted nothing to do with the family’s criminal activities and that she would rather move on with her life.

I have no idea what she’s doing here, in America, or at this party. I also don’t recognize the younger man with Jackson. He’s tall and well-built with light brown hair, he looks like the classic all-American boy next door, captain of the football team. Unsurprisingly, the man can’t take his eyes off Kim, engaging her in conversation. Amelia seems put out by this but doesn’t let that stop her from laughing too hard at everything he says. Once more, I wonder how her friend Amelia received an invite to this party. Though looking at her fake tits and the way she’s eyeing up all the eligible men, I wonder if she’s one of Gillihan’s high end whores? That is something that perhaps I might need to talk to Kim about, she tells me that she’s only recently gotten reconnected with her childhood friend, and I’d hate for her to lead Kim astray. I mentally chastise myself, after the two weeks are up, I won’t be seeing Kim again, so what concern is it of mine what she does with her life, or who she chooses to spend time with?

Another ridiculous peal of laughter from Amelia catches my attention, All American Boy’s making Kim laugh too, though not as enthusiastically. Watching them pisses me off and my inner caveman is screaming out for me to go over and wipe that smug grin off his face and show him who Kim belongs to. My reluctance to engage with Marta is the only thing holding me back.

I grip my glass so tightly my knuckles go white, and I worry I might actually break the glass. Luckily, I’m no longer on the champagne, or else I’d have snapped the flute in two. Artem follows my gaze.

“I see Kimberly has met Marta,” he points out, watching me for my reaction, no doubt wondering if he needs to take me outside to blow off some steam in a more private setting before I start killing people.

“Yes,” I state through gritted teeth. “What are they doing here?”

“As you know, Jackson has family in Vermont. I’ve no idea why they’re in Atlanta though, most likely business. I hear his business empire is expanding into various states across the US. I take it you don’t want a family reunion,” Artem points out the obvious.

Ignoring him, I ask, “Who’s the frat bro with them?”

“Joseph Miller, a young up-and-comer in Jackson’s US business ventures. I believe he’s handling things Stateside,” Artem explains.

“Is he clean?”

Artem shrugs, “Not done a deep-dive on him so I can’t say for sure, want me to find out?”

“Yes,” I reply.

Generally, I have Artem keep tabs on Marta but nothing beyond the superficial just to make sure she’s alright and that Jackson is the legitimate businessman he claims to be. If he’s expanding stateside and dealing with people in my territory, I want to know more. Marta may be out of the lifestyle, but enemies of the Volkov Wolfpack know she’s still family, my blood. They might try to use that against me.

“What about the girl, Amelia? Kim knows her. Who is she?” I ask, trying to distract myself from the I feel rage bubbling up as I watch Joseph Miller flirting with Kim.

“Amelia Warren, her father’s a plastic surgeon and shameless social climber. Her parents live in Charleston but she moved to Atlanta three months ago. I couldn’t find much on her, but I suspect her father is funding her lifestyle,” Artem explains.

I’m not surprised he knows this. Firstly, Artem knows everything and everyone that comes near our circle, that’s his job. Secondly, I asked him to look into Kim, and since Amelia is her good friend, she’s bound to have come up in his research. Kim and Amelia seem so different, and I wonder why she’s friends with someone like her? Though I suppose when one has history with a person, then even if the years change them, they’re still a part of your life. Rather like siblings, I think, as I look at my sister. We are nothing alike, but whether I admit to it or not, there is still a deep connection between us.

“Any mob connections?” I ask, still watching the group chatting away merrily.

“Warren definitely knows the South Carolina mobsters—heck, he’s worked on half of their wives—but it’s unclear if he’s involved in any criminal activity. He’s no doubt aware of it and a slippery fuck, but that could just be that he’s happy to turn a blind eye for the right price,” Artem explains, grabbing a couple of canapés from a passing waiter and shoveling them in.

I nod, taking it all in. I don’t like this. I don’t like how many coincidences there seem to be surrounding Kim. Hitting my car at just the right time to save me from a bomb, then needing me to bail her out only days later, insisting on paying me back and happily agreeing to stay with me, and now being best friends with someone with inside connections and readily chatting to my sister and her husband. I’m sure most people would think I’m paranoid, that there’s no way she can have planned any of this, they’re probably right. But I didn’t get to be the leader of the Volkov Wolfpack by being nice and trusting.

When I look back over, I notice that Kim is now alone with Joseph Miller, Amelia’s sinking her claws into some other poor shmuck and Marta and Jackson have disappeared into the crowd. My blood boils as I notice Miller has placed his hand on Kim’s arm and she’s making no move to stop him. He’s going to regret laying a finger on what’s mine. I toss back the remainder of my vodka and slam it down on the counter.

Artem, not missing anything chuckles. “Try not to kill anyone in front of civilians, Boss. It’s a bitch of a clean-up job and there’s a fuck ton of witnesses here.”

That’s all the warning or advice he’ll venture to give me, he knows better than to try anything else. I will do what I want, and no one can stop me. Though I try to keep the violent anger I feel suppressed, he’s right. I don’t bother to say anything to him as I stride through the throng of people, making my way toward Kim.

I grab her by the arm, a little too roughly, “We’re leaving,” I state icily, trying to keep my voice calm.

“Yaroslav…” she says, confused.

“Nice to meet you, I’m—” Miller starts.

I shoot him an icy look that reveals the monster behind the mask, and he recoils slightly before regaining his composure but I can tell I’ve rattled him. Good.

I don’t trust myself to speak, I simply maintain hold of Kim’s arm as I walk away, dragging her behind me.

“What’s going on? Did something happen?” Kim asks worriedly.

I don’t trust myself to speak about it now. “Be quiet,” I command.

Something in my tone must convince her to do so, as she does as she’s told.

***

We don’t speak the whole journey home but that’s done nothing to lessen the anger and resentment I’m feeling. I’m pissed off and jealous that Kim was flirting with another man, that she was chatting with my sister when she knows full well, we’re estranged. I feel resentment toward my sister for abandoning me all those years ago only to now resurface. What did she expect me to do—embrace her in a brotherly hug and offer my forgiveness? Whatever she was there for, I don’t like it, nor the emotions that are now rising to the surface having been so long suppressed. I’ve had too much to drink, I should go to bed, get away from Kim, gather myself, and calm down. Being this out of control is dangerous. But I can’t seem to stop myself.

The second we enter the house, I head to the reception room and stride inside. It’s a room I seldom use—preferring to meet anyone who isn’t a trusted friend elsewhere— the room has a library with a grand piano and several uncomfortable chairs. Kim hovers in the doorway, uncertain whether I want her to follow me or not. She takes a tentative few steps inside.

“Yaroslav, what’s wrong?” she asks in a quiet voice, sounding so concerned and closing the door softly behind her.

If she thinks this is going to be a tender moment where I open up and share my feelings with her then she has no idea who I am. I whip around, fast as a rattlesnake, and she takes a couple of steps backward at my expression.

“I thought we agreed that while you are here with me you will not see anyone else,” I hiss.

“We did…” she says, looking a little bit frightened by my intensity.

“Then why the fuck were you flirting with some other guy at a party you were attending as my date?” I ask, my voice icily calm.

“Who? Joseph? We weren’t flirting he was just being friendly,” she says incredulously.

I don’t even want to get into all of my other questions or concerns about Kim after tonight. I especially don’t want to think about my sister. All of my emotions get channeled into the jealousy I felt seeing another man desire Kim.

“Oh yes, you both seemed real fucking friendly. Are you just like your friend? Seeking your golden ticket out of mediocrity with whichever rich cuckold you can find, fuck, and fool?” I bite.

“Don’t you dare talk to me like that, I don’t have to put up with this shit!” Kim snaps, turning her back and walking to the door.

Like a predator, unable to resist chasing down its prey, I close the distance between us, grabbing her wrist and she twists around to face me. She can sense the danger radiating off me. Kim backs up slightly until there’s nowhere for her to go, her back is pressed against the wall. I grab her chin, tilting her face up to look at me and holding it possessively in my hand.

“I fucking own you. You’re mine,” I growl, gazing intently into her eyes.

She opens her mouth, ready to argue back but I silence her with my mouth, kissing her roughly. She places both of her hands on my shoulders, pushing me and squirming but I hold firm. After a moment, she relents, kissing me back with a hunger that matches my own. I tear at her dress like a wild animal, the flimsy straps and material breaking away easily under my strength, revealing her bare breasts. I don’t care that it cost a couple thousand dollars. I’m overtaken by the primal side of me.

I squeeze, suck, and bite her neck, breasts chest, every inch of her and she mews in part pleasure part pain.

Pulling her dress up roughly and ripping it further, I tear off her panties and lift one of her legs for easier access as I pull my cock out and plunge it inside her. She lets out a cry as I thrust inside her, her body not yet ready for me.

She doesn’t try to stop me, but I can tell I’m being too rough, that I should back off a bit. But I can’t stop myself. I need her. Need to own her, to fuck her, to forget everything in her.

Despite herself, I feel her growing wetter and wetter as I fuck her. She places her hands on my face, trying to get me to kiss her, to look at her, to calm down.

“Yaroslav,” she moans, “Slow…”

I can feel her big, trusting eyes looking at me, willing me back to her, believing I won’t hurt her. But I ignore her, driven by the beast now I can’t stop myself. I pull out of her, turning her around so she’s facing the wall, and driving my cock into her from behind.

I fuck her hard and fast and she screams out moaning my name. I spank her, harder than usual and she lets out a yelp. She might not be sure about how rough I’m being, but her body is betraying her, she’s so wet I can feel her juices running down our thighs.

“You’re fucking mine,” I growl.

“Yes,” she moans.

“Say it,” I command.

“I’m yours,” she pants, as I build momentum.

I place a hand on her neck, applying a small amount of pressure, not enough to choke her just for her to feel it there. She stills but doesn’t resist. With the other hand, I squeeze her ass before reaching around to play with her clit. I pull my cock out and she moans, pushing back, wanting me inside again. She might try to tell herself she shouldn’t like it this rough, but it’s clear she’s enjoying herself as much as I am, that she craves the darkness I offer.

I expertly fuck her with my fingers, slipping one into her ass and causing her to let out a breath of surprise. Her pussy spasms on me and I can tell she likes it.

“I’m going to fuck your ass now, and you are going to cum,” I tell her.

“I’ve never…” she says tensing, her voice surprised but also excited by the idea.

I continue to play with her clit, teasing her to the edge of climax and she relaxes again. “Do you want to cum?”

“Yes,” she moans.

“Then tonight you’re going to give every part of your body to me,” I state.

She nods her head, and I slowly start to take her in the ass. She feels so tight and different that I almost cum right away. I’m desperate to fuck her hard and fast but I force myself to slow down, continuing to thrust my fingers in and out of her soaking wet slit.

“Fuck,” she moans breathily.

Just like that, I lose the last ounce of control I had left. I fuck her and she cries out in pleasure and pain. Like a man possessed I bite, spank, fuck her. She cries out again and I realize I’m hurting her, going too hard. I stop, only briefly to fuck her in the pussy again, fucking her until she moans and spasms on my cock, cumming so hard her legs buckle.

Once the orgasm stops tearing her apart, I command her, “On your knees, I’m going to cum in your mouth.”

She eagerly does as she’s told, completely lost in the moment now she takes me in her mouth, licking and sucking up and down my shaft. The sight of me in her mouth is so fucking hot I almost cum again. I place a hand on the back of her head, holding her in place as she fucks me with her mouth. I want to savor the sensation but I’m already so close to climax from fucking her that I can’t hold back. I thrust as deep as she can take me, as my seed pumps out into her mouth. She automatically flinches back but I hold her firm, leaving her no choice but to swallow.

“Fuck, koketka,” I growl as I let go.

She scrambles up, trying to gather up the tattered shreds of her dress to preserve some of her modesty. She does so without looking at me, seemingly ashamed now the heat of the moment has passed. I know I’ll need to talk to her about tonight, but right now I can’t bring myself to do it. The beast’s hunger is satiated but he’s still not caged. I hand her my jacket to cover herself with and let her leave without saying a word.

She can convince herself otherwise, but I know she enjoyed that every bit as much as I did. I try to ignore the small voice inside that worries I took it too far.