Chapter 25
Zakhar Zadorov is officially number one on my list of people I want to kill, followed closely by his son, Oleg.
Although with every passing moment, the boy is gaining on his father.
I had completely forgotten about Misha’s message several weeks back, having been caught up in work and…
Thatcher. So I was blindsided when Zakhar walked into my office this morning with a younger, but somehow even more hideous, version of himself.
My schedule had been cleared for Zakhar and me to discuss the current import-export contracts between our families.
Hours, he demanded. All for him to drop off his derpy protégé and leave, claiming a family emergency.
He’s not fooling anyone with that bullshit, but he’s going to have a real emergency if his son doesn’t stop trying to fucking touch me.
“No, I don’t think involving the government would be the best plan of action,” I snap, pulling my arm away from his grip again.
God, he’s such a moron. As annoying as his father is, he’s at least somewhat intelligent.
The Zadorov Bratva may not be as successful as ours, but they’re big enough in Russia.
Otherwise, I wouldn’t be entertaining them at all.
I’m starting to wonder if Zakhar is more interested in getting a foot in the Taranov door, or if he just wants to ensure his own empire continues.
As it stands, the Zadorov Bratva is toast the minute they lower him into the ground.
Unless he can produce another heir, that is.
I’m certainly no stranger to random brothers popping up out of the woodwork.
Maybe it’s best that Teddy took over after all because I’m going to lose my mind by the end of this tour.
“Oh, I love fencing. There’s no need for so many pistes, though.
Three is a bit excessive, don’t you think?
The staff and soldiers certainly don’t need to use it, and as long as we have one, maybe two in case we have guests, I think that’s fine.
We can use the extra space for something more…
luxurious? Perhaps a spa. A spa would be fantastic.
Yes, I think one piste is enough and a spa. ”
I’ve had to listen to this man drone on about the changes he would make to the estate for what seems like an eternity, and we’re only halfway finished. He’s been critical about everything except the garish decor I still haven’t gotten around to changing.
“Don’t you think so, sweetheart?”
“I am not your fucking sweetheart,” I hiss. “You may address me as Ms. Taranova or Mila, and if you ever insinuate our relationship is anything but professional again, you will be begging for your life at my feet.”
He startles at my words, but he’s lucky it’s only that.
His shock turns to anger, and he steps closer, crowding me in an attempt at intimidation.
If he only knew how much restraint it’s taking not to pull the knife from the inside of my sleeve and slice his neck, he would be running away as fast as his lazy, pampered ass could take him.
“My father isn’t going to be pleased with your behavior today. Here I thought he had picked out a lovely Russian girl for me to marry, but—”
He pauses when I blurt out a laugh, but I can’t help it.
“You really think I’m going to marry you?
Oleg, you’re quite possibly the dumbest man I’ve ever met, and I’m more than certain your father feels the same way.
But please do tell Zakhar that if he actually thought I would go through with this arrangement, he’s as dense as you are. ”
Oleg turns as red as a tomato as his anger rises. “You’re just a cold, ugly bitch, aren’t you?”
A small part of me wishes he would try something, just so I would have an excuse to get rid of him. I raise a brow, smirking just to taunt him further…until a very familiar voice fills the air.
“Whoa, man! That’s no way to talk to a lady.
” Thatcher walks up beside me and holds a hand out to Oleg.
“You must be new. If I weren’t leaving today, I’d give you a lesson on how to be a gentleman.
You know, really make the girls go wild.
Misha will help you, though. Just tell him Thatcher Prescott sent you,” he finishes with a wink.
Fuck, not your name, solnyshko.
To my relief, Oleg doesn’t do anything drastic and accepts his handshake. “Oleg. I was just leaving. Perhaps I’ll see you again sometime, though. You seem…interesting.”
“Hell yeah, bro! Tell Mila to let me know next time you’re in town, and we’ll party it up.”
Oleg studies him for a moment as I weigh the probability of this putting Thatcher in danger versus the cost of starting a war with the Zadorovs.
I’m leaning toward killing the guy right here and now to err on the side of safety, but my fear is gone when he gives the dopiest smile I’ve seen yet.
If this oaf didn’t have the IQ of a banana peel, I might need to be more careful, but there’s no way he suspects anything between Thatcher and me. I’m just being paranoid.
Oleg says his goodbyes, and we watch as he finally leaves.
“Who was that asshole?” Thatcher asks when he’s finally out of sight.
“Just a member of one of the Russian families I’ve been working with. Nothing for you to worry about.” I turn and look at my handsome boy, tucking a loose strand of blond hair behind his ear. “What did you need?”
“Oh, I wanted to say goodbye before I left to go back to the city. Practice starts bright and early in the morning, and I need to get back to my condo to grab my new key before the office closes for the day.”
Fuck, I forgot about him leaving. I’ve been so busy and…I think I didn’t want to admit it was happening. “Ah yes, be very careful going home, then?”
“I’ll be careful. Mila…” He stares into my eyes with an intensity such that I swear he must be looking for my soul, but he’s searching for something he’ll never find.
“Yes?”
“I’ll…I’m going to miss you. I meant what I said the other day about us making things work. I’ll do whatever it takes. You said you would try. Did you mean that?”
I pull the string of curly hair that keeps falling in his eyes. “Of course I will. You’re welcome here anytime, and I’ll always let you know if I’m coming into the city.”
“You’re welcome to stay with me anytime too. Our preseason games won’t start for a while, so my weekends will be lighter for the next few weeks, if you want to come visit. I know it’s not as safe as the compound, but I’m in the penthouse, and I’ll add whatever security measures you need.”
He’s so pretty, shining in the summer sun like a star. I run both hands through his golden hair and pull his brow to mine. “I’ll see what I can do, solnyshko.”
He’s so close I can feel his breath on my skin, and I can’t stop myself from tasting him one last time before he leaves.
I bridge the gap between us and bring my lips to his.
He melts into our kiss, and I have to fight the urge to do the same.
His arms wrap around me, deepening our embrace, and for once, I don’t care.
It’s warm and safe and…nice. It’s nice to have a beautiful man hold me in such a tender way.
I could lose myself in him so easily. But I won’t.
Pulling away, I break the kiss. “Drive safe, pretty boy. Text me when you get there.”
He gives me one last peck on my cheek and walks away, leaving me alone for the first time today. My chest stings as I struggle to breathe. What the fuck kind of reaction is this? I’m not a sociopath. I feel some emotion. But I’ve never felt this.
It’s been so nice having a live-in toy…that’s it. I’ve had mind-blowing sex on tap for the past month, and this is just a visceral reaction to the fear of that going away. But it doesn’t have to go away. At least not entirely.
We both said we would try to make things work.
The compound is obviously an option, but I haven’t been to the city in months.
His condo is as safe as any could be. It was adorable of him to offer to do it himself.
Still, after the fiasco with Teddy’s condo being broken into earlier this year, I went ahead and had top-of-the-line security measures installed.
This doesn’t have anything to do with wanting to see how Thatcher lives.
I’m just due for a change of scenery. I think all the men here would agree that everything goes a lot more smoothly when I’m able to let out my stress properly.
Plus, it’s perfectly fine to have a favorite toy.
With my mind made up, I pull out my phone and shoot a message to Misha.
Me: Clear my schedule for the next few weekends.