Chapter Thirteen
Dmitri Konstantinov
Inna didn’t know who she was dealing with. That much was clear from the beginning, but tonight it was almost entertaining. I read people the way other men read contracts, and she was not as difficult to read as she believed herself to be.
At the auction, when we crossed paths with Iker, I felt her body react before she said a word about him.
I filed it away without reacting to it. For a man who had her father, she might have encountered him before.
I wasn’t interested in the details tonight.
I was interested in the fact that she offered herself to me.
A while ago, Inna didn’t want to marry me. Now she was standing in my bedroom in her underwear, telling me she would do anything I wanted. People always offer to pay a huge price when they want something. And Inna wanted something.
I pulled the game not because I needed it, but I wanted to hear what she was going to ask for if she won. Or more accurately, when she thought she had won.
I didn’t promise to give her anything. I only promised to listen, and I was good at appearing generous in doing so.
Her chest rose and fell faster as if trying to hold herself together and still looking like a woman with a plan. That was the thing about Inna. She was always scheming, even when she was scared.
This was wearing on my patience. I could bend her over this bed, slam my cock in her hole, and find out exactly how tight her hair was in my fist. I could take my time with every inch of her and still have the rest of the night ahead of me.
The thought alone was damaging my self-control. I was starving for sex, and I had been since she walked through that door in that silver dress. And now she was here, right in my hand.
She didn’t want me. Not the way a woman wanted a man.
Her body flinched when I touched her. She held her breath like she was bracing for something, letting it happen rather than needing it.
She used her body as a currency tonight.
I respected the calculation even if I had no intention of making it easy for her.
My fingers moved further to her clit, and she pushed her ass back against me. The pressure of her against my bulge nearly ended the game right there.
One more move like that and whatever she wanted to ask me could wait.
But I wanted my women present when I fucked them, not enduring, not holding their breath and waiting for it to be over.
A woman who wasn’t relaxed couldn’t take me the way I wanted to be taken.
I didn’t compromise on that. When I fucked, I wanted all of it, every inch buried, however long that took.
“Do we have a deal?” I kept my lips close to her ear, my fingers moving along her slit, smooth and warm.
She was genuinely beautiful. The kind of beauty that would cost me sleep on nights when she was nowhere near this room.
I pressed my middle finger against her entrance, and she grabbed my wrist, breathing fast and shallow. Something close to panic moved across her face.
I smirked and tightened my grip around her throat, and she swallowed hard against my fingers.
“Let go.”
“You—” she shifted, trying to find her footing. “Do you have a condom?”
“Why?” I sank my finger inside, and she hissed, her grip on my wrist going slack. “You think I will win?”
“Isn’t that what you want?” She breathed, her body making small concessions it wasn’t announcing out loud.
She already knew I would win because she was slippery against my fingers, warm and ready.
Her body made arrangements without consulting her pride.
If I let things continue from here, this night would go somewhere she wasn’t prepared for.
I would take my time with her and make sure she understood exactly who I was.
I pulled my finger out and thrust it in again, just enough for her to feel what I was choosing not to give her, then pulled back entirely. “You win.”
She opened her eyes, confusion moving across her face. I let her win deliberately. But I would fuck her before she left my world. I would taste her, take my time with every part of her, and it would be soon.
“What?” she said.
“So,” I ran my fingers lightly along her neck. “What do you want? Make it quick before I change my mind.”
“You—” she stepped away, and I let her go. She looked flushed, caught between relief and embarrassment. “I win?”
“You weren’t wet enough.” I kept my expression clean. “I like it dripping, easy to slide straight in.” The way she would have been, given another thirty seconds. But she didn’t need that detail. “If you have nothing to ask, I have business to get back to.”
I turned to leave.
“Wait.” Her voice came quickly. “Okay. Fine.”
There it was. I stopped and turned back to her. She grabbed the dress and held it against her chest, covering what had been in my hands a minute ago, what I could still take if I wanted.
“I know I’m not your type, and you’re using me. I’m aware of what rich people do and—”
She stopped herself.
She was right about one part. Using her, yes. But knowing what rich people did, that, she didn’t. She might have observed and assumed a lot, but the reality was different.
“You can use me. Take me to events, whatever you need for the business, I’ll do it.
I don’t care what it involves.” She breathed.
“And I know you’ll want to marry someone who actually fits into your world.
I can help you find her. We will end the fake marriage quietly.
” She exhaled. “Since people will ask questions, you can tell them I cheated. Announce it publicly. That way, your reputation will stay clean, and you will move on without any damage.”
So she had mapped the whole thing out. The entry, utility, exit strategy, and even the narrative, I would use to walk away from it without losing anything. She handed me a clean ending before I even finished using the beginning.
Did she know about the engagement I already called off?
My eyes narrowed. She thought this through with more care than most men I sat across from at boardroom tables. And she will let her own name take the damage at the end. Cheater? She offered that word for herself without flinching.
Whatever she was about to ask me for had to be huge. You didn’t offer yourself as a sacrifice, hand a man your reputation to spend however he liked, unless what you needed was worth the cost.
I smiled and shoved my hands in my pockets.
“Is that a good smile?” she asked.
“You tell me.” I closed the distance between us. “It’s interesting that you think you know what my type of woman is.”
“I mean, the woman from the event earlier,” she said. “It was obvious you liked her. And honestly, you two looked good together.”
Isabella Duval? This girl was standing in my bedroom in her underwear, holding a dress against her chest, and insulting me.
“I see.”
“So we can sign a contract. We keep this up, and then I will help you find someone to properly replace me. And then you will announce the divorce, however it works best for you.” She paused, doing the calculation out loud.
“A three-month contract, right? No, people won’t buy it.
Let’s say, six months?” She hissed. “That’s a lot, though. ”
Pure nonsense.
“What do you want?” I asked.
She caught the shift in my tone and her shoulders pulled in slightly. “For you to agree.”
“Agree to what exactly. You’ve said a great deal of nothing, and I haven’t grabbed a single thing you actually want from any of it. Should I leave?”
“It wasn’t nothing.” Her brows drew together. “It’s a good deal if you actually think about it.”
“Inna.”
“Fine, seven months. Seven months and we—”
“What the hell do you want?”
She froze. Her eyes went wide, and she gripped the dress tighter against her chest. Her mouth opened once before the words finally came out. “I want to find my father.”
Silence fell. She didn’t add anything to it. Just stood there and let it sit between us. I understood exactly what she meant. And that was precisely the problem. Finding her father meant touching Iker’s business before my plan was fully in place.
“Then find him,” I said and turned to leave.
“I meant, help me find him.” She followed me across the room. “I can’t do it alone, and you know that.”
I opened the door. “And what makes you think I can?”
“You found where Cole and I moved to without being told,” she said. “You can track and find my father. I’ll give you the date, the year, everything I have.”
“No.” I moved, and she followed.
“Just find where he went or how he disappeared. I’ll go to him myself.” She was raising her voice. “My father wouldn’t just vanish like that. Maybe something happened to him, or someone got rid of him, or—”
I stopped walking for two reasons. One, she was loud enough for Cole to hear from wherever he was in this penthouse. And two, she was standing in the hallway wearing next to nothing. That was a problem of a different kind entirely.
I faced her, and she stepped back immediately.
“It’s still a no. Get back in the room.”
“We can still do it tonight.” She steadied her voice, trying to make it sound like a reasonable proposition. “You can close your eyes and pretend I’m that woman from the event. I don’t care.”
Foolish girl.
And looking up at me like that with those eyes, she was pushing me somewhere I decided not to go tonight. I didn’t know how I ended up with my hand against the wall beside her, or when exactly the space between us closed to nothing. I pressed her against the wall, looking down at her.
“When I say no,” I said quietly, “I mean it. Don’t push me.”
“One year.” Her voice dropped, and I caught the wetness sitting behind her eyes. “I know you can do this. I’m not asking you to get involved in my family’s mess. I just need you to find him. Track him. That’s all. One year and I will be whatever you want me to be.”
I looked at her for a long moment.
“Go back to the room.”
I left. This time she didn’t follow, and I didn’t look back. I stepped out of the penthouse and walked towards the elevator.
The elevator doors opened, and I stepped in.
Who gave her the impression that she could request and expect results?
The power in this arrangement was mine. She was here because she didn’t have a better option, and she was supposed to understand that.
She was not supposed to stand there with wet eyes and a one-year offer to make me feel like I was the one losing something by walking away.
One year? Who said I even wanted her that long?
And what the hell did Iker want with her father? What did the man do, see, or get involved in that was worth taking him off the street? That question sat with me, getting louder every second until I gave in.
I pulled out my phone and called Akim. He answered before the second ring.
“Boss.”
“Get on your screen. I want everything about my wife’s father. Every CCTV he has ever walked past, every person he has ever spoken to, everywhere he has ever been. Hack whatever you need to hack. I want the full picture.”
“Right away.”
I hung up and exhaled as the elevator doors opened. I was going to regret this.