Chapter 3
Chapter Three
Kazimir
“Tristan dropped a file with the receptionist; have her bring it up to me after the meeting.” I released the intercom, returning my attention to the scene unfolding before me.
People often made the mistake of thinking the rich were different, almost better than the average regular folks, and while they were right about them being different, it was the nature of the difference that was in question.
The random homeless beggar by the roadside was a stranger to greed and would worship you if you handed him a hundred. Same goes for the regular 9-5 folks and the like.
One would think with more wealth came satisfaction, but gluttony was a bottomless pit and greed was a thirsty beast with teeth and claws, and right now, a blood fest was unfolding in my conference room.
An intriguing sight as always, but it wasn’t the CEO of Archer Constructions laying out the dirty laundry of his business with the newly appointed vice president to secure a spot on my new Island, or the chief of the CIA exchanging classified information and promises of immunity for an unlimited supply of whores, that was responsible for the fire in my veins and the growing tightness in my pants.
Push and pull. Build anticipation. Appear out of the blue, take what you want and take it with so much hunger even the consumed feels empty without your teeth in them.
It was a game I was familiar with and one I’ve indulged in a few times, and I was thrilled when I realized she loved to play a good ol' game of cat and mouse.
Usually, I would let it run till she got exhausted and came crawling back. They always did when they realized I wasn’t going to chase, but it’s been three days and I’ll be damned if I said I didn’t feel her tight cunt still wrapped around my cock like a phantom limb.
I’ve had a semi for three days. It was either I acted now or died from blue balls. I'll go find her after this meeting is over.
“Gentlemen, gentlemen.” Nikolai, my ever-charming Sovetnik, quieted the crowd with a sly smile. “There’s no need to claw at each other's jugular, there’s more than enough room for all.”
“Not if this bastard is trying to monopolize the contract,” a man in a white suit yelled at another in a grey suit.
“I am not responsible for your inadequacies, Antonio.”
“You planted a whore in my bed,” Antonio shot back, his neck veins dangerously close to popping. “You stole from me.”
“You clearly didn’t value it well enough if it could be stolen.”
“Now, Antonio,” Nikolai cut through. “We do not steal from one another, we simply share.”
“There’s clearly not enough in the world for these two,” the man in the black suit suddenly scoffed.
“Profound words from someone who sent his son into exile to fuck his daughter-in-law,” Antonio side-eyed him.
My head snapped up at the revelation, and I wasn’t a man who was surprised by many things.
The man in question, a bald douche in a black suit, didn't flinch at the accusation.
I have seen so-called men of value and trust, and they didn’t have half the honor of a toddler in the Bratva.
They had no codes, ethics, brotherhood, or limitations, and once you gave them a space to reveal their true form, they didn't hesitate to spill their rotten blood all over.
A sick smile spread through Antonio’s darkened lips. “Bet the daughter-in-law opens up like a tulip at the sight of your cock, huh?”
“Never.” The same man spoke. “He has her locked in a dungeon and fucks her till she passes out.”
“She loves that type of shit, you dickwad,” baldie retorted, his face almost red with fury. “And my son didn’t have the balls to fuck her the way she wanted.”
Nikolai glanced at me, confirming the CCTV was working and everything was being captured.
This would make wonderful blackmail material in the near future.
I ran a security company, which meant these men trusted me to cover their tracks whilst they went about being the worst things to walk the earth, but it also meant I had something on all of them.
“I’m sure baldie and his daughter-in-law have a fine agreement, and I’ve not come this morning to discuss pussy.” I let my words settle before speaking again.
“The Island project. Let the bidding start.”
The room went from disarray to business immediately.
It would always be a curiosity to me how pussy had the power to derail even the most powerful of men.
Throw it into the mix of any conversation and watch everything tilt in its direction.
I was not immune. I could only boast of indulging only when I wanted and not being a slave to any, but the temptation was just the same.
Which was why my eyes darted to the clock every two seconds to know how much time till the meeting ended and I was sinking my cock into a certain tight cunt and hearing her moans bounce off my walls.
The thought alone had my cock throbbing in painful anticipation.
The bidding was done in record time and like I predicted, the Island wasn’t going to be some elite vacation place like St. Barths or The Brando.
These men were seeking a place to indulge their deepest, darkest fantasies off the grid.
“Well,” Nikolai started after the last man left the room. “A chained daughter-in-law in a basement is definitely not what I was expecting, but it’s good material.”
“Not surprised. He looks like a pedo.”
Nikolai’s jaw tightened. While we were men of crime, we all had our limits and areas that turned grey to red. Nikolai’s were children.
He once carved out a pedophile's penis and stapled it to his head while a doctor kept the culprit alive till he could fry his balls.
His body was found disemboweled with his mouth stuffed with his balls.
“How do you want to proceed with developments?”
I was halfway out of my chair when his questions reached me.
“Later. I have something to take care of.”
I was out of the room before his hawk eyes pinned me with questions.
Salacity was a traveling thrill in my veins, pooling in my crotch and setting a low fire in my groin my entire walk to my office.
Office trysts never interested me. There were loads of women outside to settle for the ones who worked for me, but I wasn’t new to the game.
A woman didn’t offer up her virginity on a platter without wanting something in return.
One fuck. One hard punishing fuck to get her out of my system and she probably gets the promotion she was after if she makes it worth my while.
A knock sounded almost immediately after I got in. Before the meeting, I deliberately had my subordinates arrange for that front desk girl to bring me the files.
“Come in,” I replied without looking up.
“Here are the files you asked for, sir.”
The voice reaching me was a sultry drawl with no raspiness or pause. I lifted my head to find a platinum blonde with boobs almost spilling out of her shirt holding out a stack of files.
“Who are you?”
She offered me a front row to her veneer-lined smile. “I’m Amanda. The new receptionist.”
My eyes narrowed. “New?”
“Yes. The old one quit two days ago.”
She quit? Ice replaced the heat in my blood.
“Leave the files on the table and get out.”
“Sir—” She nodded when she caught the expression on my face. “Yes, sir.”
I indulged in something I never cared for, pulling up the employee details when the door shut behind Amanda.
Genevieve Sinclair.
Her pouty lips and hazel eyes stared back at me the way they did in the elevator.
Her resignation letter was tendered the morning after we had sex. The morning, not afternoon or evening. 10:00 a.m.
I was caught between the bitter aftertaste of disrespect and interest as I perused the bland letter of gratitude and regret.
No woman ever left my bed before I woke, and none quit their jobs to get away from me.
If anything, they took jobs, redefined their looks and personality to get my attention.
Genevieve made quite the impression if that was her aim, but she should’ve saved the theatrics for a weaker man.
I closed the tab, picked up my phone and dialed my driver. “Bring Candice to my office.”