Page 17

I was settled back in Moscow only hours after I left Sevan's.

The normal responsibilities awaited me.

Specifically, loose ends, meetings, and getting payment to all my dealers.

It was all my new normal again without the constant urge to seek revenge.

I felt genuinely calmer.

"We go shopping later," I told Nikolai and Ivan as we sat in the backseat of the chauffeured car.

Ivan nodded as Nikolai grabbed his phone.

"I inform them of your presence... this afternoon?" Nikolai clarified.

I nodded once, "Da, this afternoon," I said, noticing the familiar compound we stopped in front of.

I need a Xanax and a nap after the long morning I've had.

The cold air whipped around me as I slid out of the car with Nikolai and Ivan—ascending the stairs toward the front doors.

Which were immediately opened for us.

And almost instantly, my light eyes darted around.

Noticing the flowers now taking up space on the lower level of my compound.

It wasn't just one or two bouquets either.

It was almost hundreds—filling every square inch of the marble floors.

Sevan.

"You have admirer?" Nikolai asked as Ivan tilted his head, analyzing my face.

That I had to force to remain stoic.

When in reality...

I wanted to laugh?

Very hard actually.

I didn't think she would take the flower thing seriously.

"Something like that," I told them, walking past them to brush past the flowers and head up the stairs.

But I didn't bother to grab my phone.

I decided I wouldn't be reaching out to her.

Playing hard to get as they call it?

Da, I'll play that.

I let out a long sigh as I walked into my room, deciding to take a Xanax and then a long hot shower.

Burning hot actually.

Because all I can fucking think about is Sevan ever since she had me straddling her as I fucked us both.

But that's what she wants.

I know that's what she wants.

So I submerged myself under the burning water, scrubbing and cleaning my skin with the soap.

Until I somehow found my way between my legs, feeling my nipples naturally harden for more attention.

Blyat.

I hate that she's made me feel this needy.

I let out a long deep sigh, running my fingers up and down my slicked folds as my eyes rolled closed.

My face burned hotter as I began rubbing and flicking my clit—arching into my touch as I backed myself against the nearest wall.

The coldness of the glass made me grunt, goosebumps sprinkling down my burning body.

I impatiently slid two fingers into myself, pumping in and out of myself as I ran my thumb over my clit.

Soft drawn-out moans vibrated in my chest as I quickened my speed, seeing her face so vividly behind my closed eyes.

I moaned even deeper, spreading my legs wider apart for my own touch.

That's when I curled so perfectly into my spot, imagining it was her inside of me.

How she would grip me in place and hit the deepest of my spots.

Which easily made my legs tense up, shaking underneath me as I drew closer and closer to the edge.

"Blyat," I breathed out, feeling myself tighten so easily around my fingers from the idea of her alone.

I'm so fucked—in more ways than one.

But I'm genuinely fucked.

"Sevan," I gritted out, almost panting repeatedly as I came undone onto my own fingers.

Which felt so fucking good.

I didn't realize how badly I needed it.

It had only been almost two days since I last touched myself on her lap, and suddenly I feel insatiable.

Like I'll never be able to get enough.

I hummed as I slid out of myself, leaning away from the glass wall to stand under the hot water flowing from the shower.

Which is how I stood for a moment, basking in the afterglow of my orgasm.

Until I finally emerged from the shower into the steamy bathroom.

I applied my necessary lotions and pulled on my usual satin robe before brushing my damp hair.

Once I was done, I trailed out of the attached bathroom, more than ready to climb into bed for a much needed nap.

The covers were cold against my smooth skin as I settled in the bed, nuzzling into the fluffed pillows.

???????

Later that afternoon, after a long nap and smoking one of my favorite cigars.

I headed to the usual shops at the heart of Moscow.

First, we stopped at GUM on Red Square, looking through the numerous brands I admired.

There was Louis Vuitton, Dior, Gucci—and my favorite of all, Chanel and Prada.

I browsed through numerous dresses and heels, specifying that the associates bring more fur coats to my private room.

"I like this one very much," I told Nikolai who sat on the couch drinking champagne.

I was standing, analyzing the rack of fur coats.

I remained barefoot, wearing the tiny brown dress I had previously tried on as I pulled on the matching gold heels.

"It matches dress," Nikolai said as I grabbed the cream fur coat off the rack.

I hummed in approval, "It does," I said, pulling the fur coat on as I walked over to the mirror.

At least until I noticed two women walk into my private room with guards escorting them in.

One was blonde with blue eyes, wearing a soft pink dress with a white trench coat and chunky heels.

I could tell she was Russian almost immediately by the way she carried herself.

The woman by her side wasn't.

She looked more Brazilian with the way her tanned skin glowed.

Her dark eyes were lined with a smoker makeup look, wearing black dress pants with a red blouse and matching lipstick.

"I like that outfit," the blonde woman spoke first.

I rolled my eyes, "I don't want it then," I said even if she seemed to have good fashion sense.

But I already don't like either of them.

And they're here in my private room for a reason.

Which they were allowed into by my men, meaning they command a good amount of power.

"She's quite pretty in person wouldn't you say?" the other Brazilian-looking woman spoke.

I turned away from the mirror, noticing Nikolai now firmly standing from the couch as he sat his flute of champagne down.

But he knows to leave the violence to me.

I love it too much.

"You need something?" I asked, glancing between them both.

The blonde tilted her head with a growing smile, "Just checking in," she said, earning a distasteful look from me.

"You appear Russian—yet you sound American," I mumbled, eyeing the blonde from head to toe.

She doesn't reside in Russia.

She can't with the way she talks and looks.

"And you are very Russian," the blonde woman said, watching as I walked over to the couch that Nikolai stood beside.

I lazily raised my brows, "I'm not interested," I said, taking her words as nothing but flirting.

The blondes brows immediately raised, "Oh no, I'm not—"

"Then why waste my time?" I cut her short leaning down to grab my champagne flute.

"I'm Nazara Obasi," the other woman finally spoke, taking a step forward, "And this is Daria Markova."

I only swallowed my sip of champagne with a bored sigh, "And?" I said, setting down my glass with a harsh clatter.

Mostly because they're taking too fucking long to get to the point.

I don't do... chit-chat.

"I assume Cortez has caught you up on who the executioners are?" Nazara spoke again as Daria had the nerve to browse through the different coats hanging on the rack.

I smiled tightly, "Da," I said, glancing over to Nazara, "But if your friend keeps touching what belongs to me—you'll have big spot to fill."

Daria didn't bother to pull her hand away from the coats.

I didn't care.

Instead, I grabbed the knife from my purse—

"Dari, we'll go shopping later," Nazara spoke before I could send the knife flying at her head.

Daria sighed dramatically, "Fine," she said, turning away from the rack, "You have good taste, Koslov," she added, earning an eye roll from me.

Meanwhile, Nazara's lips twitched up slightly, "She does—apparently you've taken quite a liking to our executor?" she said, walking over to me with Daria.

I tightened my jaw—yes at the assumption that I liked Sevan.

But also at the fact that she said our.

Sevan is not theirs.

"I have taken a liking," I said, which naturally made Nikolai's brows shoot up, visibly processing the rare words that had fallen from my mouth, "It's fun proving that I'll never be under any of you—it's why I killed the woman who brought her happiness and destroy her house."

Daria tilted her head, "There's other rumors circling too, Koslov," she said, having the audacity to sit down on the couch and pour herself a glass of champagne, "You dance with her... and we see that you're very touchy with each other."

I lazily raised my brows, snatching the bottle of champagne from Daria's hands before she could begin to pour it.

"We are very touchy," I murmured, watching as Nazara leaned against the back of the couch with her dark eyes pinpointed on me, "I enjoy hitting her every time she demands I distribute shipment."

Nazara raised a sharp brow, and I could feel her eyes tracing every inch of my face.

She's reading me—trying to figure out if I'm being truthful.

Technically, I am.

"And the dancing?" Nazara asked, crossing her arms over her chest.

Daria immediately nodded, "Because, between us girls, Cortez is pretty hot," she said.

I remained absolutely stoic.

Not a single expression on my face.

Mostly because she's testing me.

I can tell she's straight by the way she worded her previous sentence.

Also by her long sharp nails and the diamond ring on her left finger.

She's married—to a creature we call a man.

I could still cut her tongue out for calling Sevan hot.

But I'll refrain.

Because she wants a reaction.

"She is," I purposely said, clasping my hands together entirely unfazed, "Is that what you came here to tell me? I should fuck your executor?"

The irony is, I already have.

On numerous occasions now.

Daria's brows immediately shot up, "No, we don't mean it like that—"

"Cortez can't fraternize," Nazara cut her short with a narrowed look.

I lazily raised my brows, "Good—less women for me to reject," I determined, backing away from them with a bored sigh.

"Glad you understand," Nazara said as I walked over toward the dressing rooms, "We're doing dinner tonight—I'll leave the details with your men."

I halted my walking, "I have plans," I said, turning around to face them again.

Daria stood from the couch with a carefree smile, "Cancel or we cancel them for you," she said in the most bitchy sweet tone.

I fucking hate them already.

But that's nothing new for me.

I forced the fakest smile, "I totally can't wait," I said, mimicking Daria's tone.

Until my face dropped back stoic and made Daria furrow her brows in offense.

But Nazara looked almost entertained.

Already a weak spot.

She doesn't truly like Daria.

And maybe Daria doesn't like her either.

"Nice talk, Koslov," Nazara said with a smirk directed at me, walking out of the private room past the velvet curtains with Daria silently following behind her.

Which immediately made my attention snap to Nikolai, "What a fucking mess," I said, grabbing my flute of champagne to finish off.

Nikolai poured more of the champagne into my glass, "I have cigar and vodka waiting in car, da?" he asked.

I nodded immediately, "Da, give me the room to get dressed," I said, backing away from him as I took a longer sip of my champagne.

Nikolai nodded immediately, backing out of the room and past the velvet ropes that he tied closed.

And as soon as I was alone, I grabbed my phone from my purse and walked over to the dressing room.

But before I dialed the unmarked number, I suddenly decided to add a contact.

It was just her first name—and only because it would make it easier than keeping only her number in my phone.

I shut the door of the dressing room as I finally dialed her newly made contact—waiting for the line to click.

Which happened after five rings.

"Zinovia," her voice flooded into my ear from the speaker as I kicked off my heels, "Thinking of me?"

I lazily raised my brows, "Only when I come," I mumbled, pushing my heels off to the side as I analyzed myself in the mirror.

"Just what I like to hear baby," Sevan said, naturally making me roll my eyes.

"Your friends visited me—they insist we do dinner tonight," I told her, leaving the other topic alone.

"Clarify," Sevan said, and I could hear a glass hit the table, indicating she was most likely drinking.

"Nazara and Daria," I nearly gritted their names.

Sevan hummed immediately, "Keep going," she said, knowing exactly who I was referring to.

"They hear rumors and accuse me of liking you," I said, tightening my jaw as my irritation managed to grow, "They invite me to dinner but I'm not fucking going, Sevan," I said, already hating even the idea of spending another second in their presence.

"You're irritated," Sevan said, her tone nothing but calm with me, "But you're also smart Zinovia, so you know better than to skip this dinner."

I shook my head, "I don't care," I mumbled almost childishly, kicking my foot against the wall.

"You received my flowers?" Sevan had the nerve to fucking ask.

I clenched my hand into a fist by my side, "That's not fucking important, Sev—"

"I'll send you thousands more—or all the bottles of vodka you want," Sevan cut me short, which naturally made my brows furrow, "Just go to the dinner, Zinovia."

I remained silent for a moment, unsure of what to say to her now.

Because she's being... nice?

I don't know how to respond to nice.

"I would offer to fuck you until you can't walk, but that's not something you're up for yet," Sevan spoke again, sending a warmth to even the hidden spots of my body, "Soon though."

I rolled my eyes, "Can you fucking focus?" I said, shaking my head a few times to rid it of the suddenly explicit thoughts she had weighed it down with.

"Oh, I'm very focused, Zinovia," Sevan said, her voice so perfectly lowered and raspy, "All I can fucking think about is you."

I hummed in approval, "Good," I mumbled, my lips twitching up slightly, "I hope you go insane."

Sevan hummed, "Only if you go insane with me," she countered, making me roll my eyes yet again.

"Bye Sevan," I said.

"Enjoy your dinner baby," she purposely said as I hung up.

I let out a deep sigh, throwing my phone on the cushioned bench nearby before stripping out of the fur coat and dress.

I guess I'm going to that fucking dinner after all.