Chapter 7

Kimberly

I knew Yaroslav Volkov was rich, but not this rich. The mansion we pull up to is huge. Like, bigger than my high school big. Volkov isn’t just a millionaire, he’s got to be a billionaire with a house like this. It’s located in an area aptly named Tuxedo Park, somewhere everyone knows of, but people like me never go to. The mansion itself is painted a gleaming white that’s dazzling in the bright sunlight. I wonder how often he must have to get it repainted to keep it so pristine.

The sprawling mansion looks like it’s made up of eight houses combined with a grand porch held up by four columns. The drive up to the building is long with a perfectly mowed lawn flagging the pebbled drive, leading up to a driveway complete with a miniature traffic circle. My mouth pops open and I’m unable to hide my awe as I gawp at the place. If it looks like this outside, I can only imagine what it’s like inside.

I suddenly feel acutely aware of how out of place I am here. I wish I’d had a proper shower and change of clothes first. I’ve been in the same sweatpants and T-shirt since yesterday when Abigail bought me a change of clothes and I’ve mostly been washing myself in the sink of the tiny bathroom in Gran’s room, so I’m decidedly not fresh.

The gravel of the driveway crunches underneath the car as we pull to a stop. Artem gets out and comes to open the door for me.

“Thanks,” I say awkwardly. I still feel uncomfortable around him, he’s a man of few words, mostly responding to my attempt at conversation with monosyllabic answers for the duration of the short car ride.

“Follow me, Mr. Volkov is waiting for you,” he says before striding off, not checking to see if I’m following.

We walk inside the grand entrance, and I’m again amazed by the extravagance of the place. There’s a freaking double staircase for crying out loud! My sneakers squeak audibly on the tiled floor, and I cringe at the sound, it’s like even the house knows I don’t belong. Artem leads me through a seemingly never-ending maze of corridors, though the word corridors doesn’t do them justice, they’re so wide and the crisp white walls are adorned with modern art—I dread to think how much the paintings cost.

Finally, we reach a door, and he opens it, standing aside and gesturing for me to enter which I do. “Mr. Volkov will be in shortly. Can I get you anything to drink?”

“Um, maybe just a water?” I ask.

He nods, following me in and opening up a cupboard to reveal a hidden well-stocked mini fridge. He hands me a Fiji water which I take gratefully, opening it up and greedily sipping it.

“Thanks,” I say.

He nods and leaves, shutting the door behind him and leaving me alone. I’m clearly in an office. On one wall there is the cupboard with the hidden fridge, on the counter there’s a selection of expensive-looking scotch and crystal glassware. Opposite this, there’s an impressively large tidy desk with a well-stocked bookshelf behind it that fills the wall from floor to ceiling. By the large window, there’s a giant floor-standing globe. I wonder if it’s one of those ones that are hollow inside to store things. Next to it, are two stylish yet comfortable-looking leather couches. The desk has just one chair at it, a state-of-the-art matching leather one.

I hover, uncertain of what to do now. Should I sit down? I don’t want him to think I’m snooping.

Before I can decide, I hear the door open behind me. I whip around, coming face to face with Yaroslav Volkov. He’s even more handsome than I remembered. My breath catches and I suddenly feel hot and flustered. He’s so tall that he towers over me, and I’m not short. As he was the first time I met him he’s wearing a suit, this one is a pale gray that is perfectly tailored to his athletic physique.

“Miss Walsh, I trust you had an agreeable journey here?” he says, his voice like warm honey.

“Call me Kim, please,” I reply, I tend to prefer Kimmy, but somehow that feels too informal for a man like Yaroslav, and Kimberly is too formal for my liking. “And yes, it was fine, thank you,” I add, uncertain of what I should say in this scenario. This man has just paid off more money than I could ever dream of being able to repay with my salary.

“Kim it is,” he confirms with a nod before adding, “Please, sit,” and gesturing toward the couches.

I nod, turning and walking over to perch on the edge of the nearest couch. I can feel the heat of his gaze on me and find myself again wishing that I’d had a chance to shower and change. He sits down opposite me and fixes me with his steely gaze. He doesn’t speak and I shift on the couch, feeling a little uncomfortable under his scrutiny. I pull on one of my curls, an old nervous habit. Unable to bear the silence, I speak first.

“Thank you so much. I don’t know how to express how grateful I am. Or how I’m ever going to repay you for your kindness. I promise I will pay you back somehow,” I gush, though I have no idea how I can possibly do that.

“It wasn’t out of kindness that I paid your grandmother’s bill,” he states calmly, still watching me intently.

“Oh…” I start, confused, “I mean, yeah, you said you felt like you owed me but… this is too much.” Immediately, I curse myself for saying that, what am I gonna do if he says, oh yeah, you’re right, pay up now.

“My life is worth much more to me than the money I have given to you,” he states seriously.

“Right, I mean of course. But still, I can’t just accept this without paying you back somehow,” I argue. “I’m sorry if I seem ungrateful, please know that I’m so very grateful for your help. But I’m not the kind of person who accepts charity or wants pity money. My grandmother raised me to work hard and earn my keep, there’s no such thing as a free meal. I have to settle my debts and deal with my problems myself, can you understand that?” I implore, finally meeting his intense gaze.

A small smile appears on his handsome face, and he strokes his stubbled chin thoughtfully. “Yes, I can understand that perfectly. I just so happen to feel the same way. It seems your grandmother raised you well.”

I soften at this returning his smile with a grin of my own, “Yes, she did, she is an incredible woman.”

He opens his mouth as though about to say something else, but then a small frown appears on his brow, and he hesitates before clearing his throat. I get the impression that what he asks next isn’t what he’d been about to say. “So, Kim. How do you propose to pay me back? I know you’re not financially able to do so.”

“How did you…?” I ask, my voice trailing off. It doesn’t take a rocket scientist to realize I’m broke, I wouldn’t have asked for help if that wasn’t the case. But something in his tone implies he knows more than what his words state.

“You don’t think I would give a considerable amount of money away without doing some research into the recipient, do you?” he says reasonably, but again his tone makes me wonder exactly how much digging he’s done into my life.

“Right, yes of course. Umm, well, I don’t know. I could work for you. Doing umm… filing or something?” I ask, clutching at straws. I don’t even know what his business is, but no doubt he has plenty of employees and little need for a low-level unskilled employee.

Again, that small half-smile appears on his face. “That would be an awful lot of filing, unfortunately for you, the business world is mostly digital now.”

I bite my lip nervously. I have no idea how to pay him back. I was hoping he would tell me how. “Cleaning?” I venture.

“I have a team of cleaners. I do have a suggestion if you are adamant that you will not accept the money as a gift,” he says, leaning forward and clasping his hands together as he studies my face.

“I won’t accept it without paying you back in some way,” I insist stubbornly.

“Well then, in that case. Stay with me, keep me company, entertain me for a while,” he suggests, his eyes glinting in a way that makes it clear the kind of entertainment he’d like from me.

My first reaction is one of horror, I’ve never for a moment considered selling my body, no matter how desperate for money I am. But the suggestion of spending time in this beautiful house in the company of this insanely hot man isn’t a terrible one. I can’t deny that I find him attractive. That I’d happily jump into bed with him, money or no money. I think of my Gran, of the money he’s already spent on helping me, and the fact that I don’t have much in terms of future prospects for her care.

“I’m not that kind of girl,” I reply hesitantly, unwilling to give up on my morals so quickly.

“I know that. You wouldn’t have to do anything you don’t want to do. I promise. I will never touch you without your permission or ask you to do anything you don’t want to do,” he promises, his voice surprisingly soft. I believe him.

“Why?” I ask, unable to stop myself from saying what I’m thinking. “Why would you want to spend time with someone like me?” I gesture to myself, pointing out the obvious differences between his station and mine. He could no doubt have any woman he wants, why would he want me?

“You intrigue me,” he replies earnestly with a shrug.

“How long would you want me to stay?” I ask, worried he’s going to expect months of my time for such a huge sum of money.

“Two weeks, I assume this would not be too long to become disrupted to your normal life,” he reasons.

He’s right. I could probably get vacation and cover at work for that long, especially if I explain about Gran. However, I will need to make sure she’s taken care of when I’m here. I decide to throw caution to the wind.

“Okay, I’ll do it. When should I come back?”

“I meant for you to stay from now,” he states.

“I can’t just drop everything and stay here, I have to let my work know, I have to sort out care for my grandmother, and I don’t have anything with me, no clothes, toiletries, nothing…” I reply, surprised that he’d even think I could drop everything just like that. Is he so rich that he’s lost touch with how normal people live and their responsibilities?

“I will take care of all of that,” he says as though it’s a simple task.

“How?” I ask disbelievingly.

“Just trust me, it will not be hard for me to sort. Your job will be safe, your grandmother well cared for. I will send her to the best in-patient care facility in the city to recover once she is discharged. You can visit her whenever you wish.”

He seems genuine and I find myself believing him. “Alright then,” I say, with a firm nod, standing up and holding my hand out for him to shake.

He smiles, a small genuine one that shows his perfect teeth. He also gets up, closing the space between us, and reaches out to take my hand in his strong, firm grip. His touch sends a jolt of electricity through my body. He leans forward, bringing my hand to his lips and pressing them gently against it, his dark, brooding eyes meet mine as he looks up at me while he does so. It’s such an innocuous gesture, chaste even, yet it makes me suddenly feel unbearably horny for him. I picture those eyes looking up at me from between my legs and my mind wanders as I contemplate what it would be like to fuck him right here and now.

Jesus! Where did that thought come from? I mean, he’s not even said he wants to sleep with me. Maybe he’s just lonely or this is the only way he can think to get me to take the money to appease his weird, life debt promise he made after the car accident. He’ll probably give me a guest room somewhere hidden and leave me to my own devices for the next two weeks. But the hungry look in his eyes is making me question this reasoning. Our hands are still clasped, and for a moment I wonder if he’s about to bridge the space between us and take me just as I’d fantasized.

A sudden knock at the door breaks the spell and I drop his hand as though scalded. He looks irritated at the interruption and finally breaks eye contact with me to look at the door.

“In a minute,” he calls out before turning his focus back to me. “I assume you’d like to freshen up and take a shower. I will call for someone to come and take you to your room. There are some clothes in the wardrobe already that you can use, anything else you need can be purchased for you, just ask.”

“Thank you,” I reply.

He turns from me and proceeds to make a call before answering the door. One of the other men from our first encounter is there, unlike Yaroslav and Artem, Vova is under six foot, but he has that same tense energy and is almost as wide as he is tall. Despite the tailored suit he’s wearing, you can still see that he is covered in tattoos, they snake up his neck, around the back and sides of his bald head. His hands and knuckles are equally inked. He has the appearance of a boxer who has been in several fights, with a crooked nose and squashed features. He comes in and wordlessly waits to one side until another member of staff comes to escort me to my room.

“I’ll see you later, Miss Walsh,” Yaroslav states as I leave.

“Kim,” I remind him with a smile as I walk away.

***

After leaving Yaroslav’s office, a kindly maid greeted me and told me that my room was the master suite at the top of the stairs at the end of the corridor, gesturing vaguely. I couldn’t believe my eyes when I entered the room, it really was a suite complete with a couch and a huge flat-screen TV. The gigantic bed must be a super super king, with crisp white sheets and more pillows than anyone could ever need, it looked so comfy I was tempted to climb right into it but I desperately needed a shower. On either side of the bed are two doors. I try the first one and find the ensuite.

The ensuite is bigger than my bedroom at home with a huge bathtub and a walk-in rain shower. Stripping off my grubby clothes I decide to hop straight into the shower, figuring I could find clothes afterward. After a long, luxurious shower I feel a million times better, but also bone weary. I wrap myself in one of the decadently fluffy white towels and head back into the bedroom.

Again, that amazing bed calls to me and I decide to give in to the urge to lie down and rest, just for a moment. Since my grandmother’s accident I realize I’d barely gotten more than a few hours’ sleep at a time. Climbing on top of the covers and enjoying the feel of the Egyptian cotton on my bare skin, I luxuriate in the sensation, allowing myself to finally think of exactly what I’ve gotten myself into. I can’t believe I’ve agreed to drop everything and stay for two whole weeks in some stranger’s mansion. Albeit an unbelievably sexy one. The sheets of the bed even smell like him, a masculine musky smell that is rich and fresh at the same time.

Just thinking of Yaroslav has me feeling horny and I allow my thoughts to wander, imagining what it would have been like if we hadn’t been interrupted in the office. I picture him bending me over the desk and fucking me hard from behind, his strong hands lifting me and throwing me around like I weigh nothing. I close my eyes, falling deeper into the fantasy as I slowly caress myself.

I’m amazed to find how quickly my body responds, how wet my pussy is at the mere thought of having sex with Yaroslav Volkov. I arch my back and tilt my head back increasing the rhythm of my fingers on my clit and playing with my hard nipples, imagining they’re in his mouth. I thrust my fingers deep into my warm aching slit, trying to find release, wanting more, needing him. Fuck, I’ve never been this turned on just imagining a guy doing this to me before.

I picture him teasing my clit with his tongue before driving his cock into me and the thought of it almost sends me over the edge, I let out a moan, and his name escapes my lips.