Chapter 4 - Dominik
I sat in a dimly-lit room, wreaths of smoke swarming around me like loyal soldiers. Taking a drag on the cigar in my mouth, I watched Natasha dance slowly on the pole, her hips dropping quickly, then rising as she arched her back, giving me a full view of her glorious ass.
I saw Natasha, but I pictured someone else: the woman from the previous night—Maya. She had left too soon for me to even get her number. I’d been sure she’d had as much as much I had, so I couldn’t figure out why she’d run off so quickly.
She was the first woman I had ever been so enraptured with; every moan only seemed to pull me in deeper, till I was lost in her. I never forget to wear a condom, but with this woman, I’d been so captivated that the thought hadn’t even occurred to me.
If it were any other woman, I’d be worried—so much as so that I would get myself checked out. However, for some reason, the fear of any medical or health repercussions was conspicuously absent. Only one thing irritated me: that she’d left in the manner she did—like I was some shameful secret she didn’t want to follow her into the morning.
Like I was nothing more than the tool she’d needed to lose her virginity.
“I’m no longer a virgin, Dominik.”
No, she was certainly the fuck not. I hadn’t been kidding when I’d said it last night, that she was mine. I was the first man she’d had, and I would stay the only man… which meant that I was not going to let her escape me. There was a mix of experience and inexperience about her, an innocence that I found irresistible, unlike the talented—but jaded—women who normally surrounded me.
Those kinds of women were perfect pictures of seduction, knowing exactly how to swirl their waists, twisting in ways that had you coming to them, begging. The thought made me want to break something; their bodies were traps, a prison to enslave unwitting men to their will. I was used to such girls, women who pleased you—and pleased themselves in the act.
Then, there was Maya. She was like a sacrifice, spread out on the altar before me, one I couldn’t resist feasting on. Every move I’d made had been spurred on by my need to devour her, consume her.
Own her.
Natasha smiled, and I followed her gaze to the bulge in my trouser, probably thinking it was she that had inspired my arousal. Suddenly, I wished I could tell her, confide in someone. However, my thoughts were private, and mine alone.
Natasha moving towards me, her hips swaying in a manner that had once entranced me. She knelt before me, keeping her seductive gaze on my face—something she knew usually held men in her thrall. Only I was no longer mesmerized by her; a siren of a different ilk had me in her grasp. But since Natasha was eager, I would have to let her ease my erection, even as I fantasized about my Maya.
Just then, the door opened and Artem walked in, glancing at Natasha. He paused mid-stride, clearly hesitant to intrude.
I raised a brow, then glanced down at Natasha, who grinned and licked my pinky ring suggestively. In truth, I was relieved for the interruption; I wouldn’t have to pretend I was enjoying Natasha’s blowjob as much as I usually did.
I jerked my head toward the door, and Natasha took the hint. Her eyes widened a bit, but she got to her feet wordlessly. She left, pouting—but knowing better than to protest.
I chuckled at her obvious disappointment, then gestured for Artem to approach.
“I would have left,” Artem said, frowning. “Nothing so important. Only wanted to tell you I have all you instructed me to get.”
I shook my head, my eyes flicking toward the door Natasha had disappeared through, then returning to my right-hand man. “She can wait—this can’t. Fill me in. What have I missed?”
Artem looked at the tablet in his hands. “Our man at the airport said they caught sight of someone returning to New York. Someone you once forced out.”
I didn’t need to think much to know who it was. I grimaced, growling. “Mike.”
Artem nodded. “Yes. Mike Simmons.”
I scowled. Mike Simmons had led a gang called the ‘Red Jackets’ into our territory a few years back. They’d committed petty crimes, breaking into houses and the like; then, they’d moved on to bank robberies, careful to avoid banks and investment holdings under our protection. They’d made a lot of noise, frightened a lot of people, and even had the police force scared.
Merely a few mosquitoes compared to our organization—but annoying, nonetheless.
“I’ve asked our guys on the streets to keep eyes on him,” Artem continued as I fiddled with the signet ring on my smallest finger. “We need to know why he’s here and where he lays his head.”
“Killing him would be the better option.” I smoothed my beard, coldblooded in my logic, like I’ve always been. I had to be.
Artem pursed his lips. “That would start a war for sure, but nothing we can’t handle.” He straightened, crossing his arms and lifting his chin. “I can call the men to rally so we can have this dealt with.”
My mind swirled through all possible outcomes; finally, deciding to see how it played out, I shook my head. “No. We just formed a new partnership, and we must protect our own. Bringing all our forces to one city, all for the sake of one man… it’s not worth it. I say we put it to bed. Let it rest.”
But should I, really? Complacency nearly bit me in the ass before.
At the time, the heat on the street, added to the knowledge that getting rid of the Red Jackets would involve an army, disrupting business, financial organizations had gotten wise and signed us as partners. That, of course, was only to our benefit, giving us perfect vehicles for laundering money.
It was then that the greed had began—Mike’s greed. We had the men to push him out. We made more money than he did. He wanted to be like me. He wanted what I had, but he didn’t how to approach me—or challenge me.
Many advised him against a direct confrontation with me, and I was informed of every move he made.
It wasn’t long before Mike dumped all the advice he’d received and initially adhered to. He got bold. He began pushing drugs in my territory, attempted to steal our customers, and threatened our pushers and buyers, all while we stayed silent.
Only, not for long. I barked a laugh, prompting an odd look from Artem.
I finally had enough when Mike shot one of our dealers, injuring a buyer in the process, to send a message. The latter was taken to the hospital, the former on the brink of death when we stormed Mike’s hideout.
I narrowed my eyes, vaguely aware of Artem shifting on his feet by the door as my mind raced through the memories dredged up by news of Mike’s return.
All along, I’d known where he stayed. The move had been stupid enough that I went myself, patiently waiting for news that the pusher was dead so I could justify killing Mike, ending his brief reign of terror—not that I needed to explain myself to anyone, but there were rules about this sort of thing.
I remembered it, clear as day. I stood with a cigar in hand, watching while my men opened fire at Mike’s men all around me, dropping them like flies.
We dropped the last of Mike’s defenses, shooting his shoulder to disarm him, and then we surrounded him. I just stood waiting, blowing smoke rings while the Bratva looked to me for the kill order.
The call had finally come in, only to inform me that our pusher would survive.
I’d been disappointed. Part of me had wanted the dealer to die so I could send Mike to hell with a clear conscious. However, even the Mafia had silent codes and principles; it’s the main thing that separated us from the common criminals on the street.
I exhaled and dropped my cigar to the ground, stepping on it. Slowly approaching the leader of the Red Jackets, I’d looked the coward dead in the eye and warned him: “Should I ever see you in New York again, consider yourself dead.”
Artem coughed, drawing me back to the present. Turning my head, I stared at him long enough that a normal man would have been squirming. Artem, however, was no common man; he only stared back stoically.
When I remained silent, he prompted, “Where’d you go just then?”
I sighed. “I was thinking about my first—and last—encounter with Mike,” I said, smiling crookedly. “I feel the need to approach him to… dissuade him from making trouble. It’s difficult to decide on a course of action—I exiled him, yes, but we can’t just go around killing indiscriminately.” I ran a hand through my hair, frustrated. “I just can’t figure out why he would want to test me by coming back here.”
“We’ve heard rumors that he’s protected by a powerful politician,” Artem said, looking at his tablet again. “Perhaps he’s here on business?”
“Hmm. Keep an eye on him. I’m leaving nothing to chance. Find out where he’s staying, and set a tail on him once we find him. I want to stay updated on his movements.”
“He’ll be more cautious now more than ever, making him difficult to catch.”
“I want as many men on this as possible—Mike is a priority. Do it quietly, without disrupting business. The money must always come in.”
Artem nodded, coming to attention again. He seemed glad I’d snapped out of my introspective mood. “Understood.”
I smirked. “Good. Now… Tell me about that woman from last night, Maya.” My eyes narrowed. “I want to know everything.”
“Maya Stone.”
“Yes. Maya Stone. Tell me about her. What have you gathered?”
I needed to know who she was. Friend or foe? It wouldn’t be the first time an enemy had used a lady to get information on a rival. At least, that was the excuse I’d given Artem; really, I just found her intriguing—but, of course, I couldn’t tell him that.
Artem looked back to the screen. “Well, her sheet is pretty clean—no criminal record. A bit boring, if I’m being honest.” I glared at him, so he coughed and went on. “College student, doesn’t go out often, though she visits the gym regularly.”
That explained her banging bod. If she mostly stayed in, that could be why she’d still been a virgin. Probably. She was so beautiful that I had my doubts about that.
“She lives alone,” Artem continued.
Something inside me stirred. A college girl, a girl with discipline, a fitness enthusiast, and a lover of solitude. Artem had called her “boring,” but she fascinated me all the same. For some reason, her apparent isolation made me want her all the more.
“Are you sure she lives alone?” I asked, my curiosity now fully piqued.
“Well, records show that her mother’s alive, but they don’t live together,” Artem said, tapping something on the tablet.
I frowned. Our business had always dealt with the shadier side of town, the riffraff, the corrupt, and others with less-than-pure intentions. A clean-cut, innocent girl like Maya was indeed a refreshing sight. Now I understood her hesitant demeanor that night at the club, the guarded look in her eyes that had made me sense she was inexperienced in more ways than one.
However, something else about her drew me in like a moth to a flame. Perhaps it was that the fact she’d had no idea who I was, no preconceived notions or fear, that made her special. I couldn’t help wondering what lay beneath her surface, what her real intentions had been. It was all too intriguing, and I needed more answers.
There’s never any easy answer, there are those that you’ll go to great lengths and effort to find. There’s those who will seek to destroy your empire and make themselves rich and powerful. But if you’re right, and you do find that hidden treasure, you must dig deep and pull it up quick before it’s lost forever.
I pictured her, that red dress hugging the curves of her short frame, intriguing hazel eyes rimmed with liner black as coal. The waves of her silky brown hair caressing my chest as she rode me, insatiable.
“Maya Stone.” Her name flowed like honey from my lips. I felt a crease form on my forehead. There was something about that name, something I couldn’t quite place—like an echo of a dream I couldn’t fully remember. But it felt familiar, and I was not a man to ignore my gut—even if it was telling me it was a bad idea to pursue someone I didn’t know anything about.
The temptation was strong, though; I was having trouble resisting its call. This woman was an enigma wrapped in a mystery, and there’s nothing I enjoy more than solving a good riddle.
I took another draw on my cigar as I leaned back, blowing a few smoke rings as watching them disappear into the dim light. My mind flashed to the moment I’d spotted Maya by the bar, then watch her make her way to a table—alone.
“She’s pretty young,” Artem said, watching me closely.
That look in his eyes said, too young for you. It was clear he considered her twenty-three years too young for my forty, her status much too common to interest me in the long-term. I read the unsaid words in his gaze: Consider her age. You’re way older than her. Surely you can find someone way hotter than her. Someone more experienced. She’s not your type. However, his respect—and fondness for his damn life—wouldn’t let him say them out loud.
I sighed, ignoring Artem’s obvious disapproval. “I don’t see her age as an issue.” I placed the cigar in the ashtray beside me. “You know me. If I want something, I go for it—and nothing can stop me.”
Artem inclined his head obediently.
And now, I wanted Maya Stone, for the long-term. I’d get her… by whatever means necessary.