Page 9

Arielle

“I really think he’s my husband, Ari, I swear!”

“You think every man that’s above six feet and talks to you nicely is your husband, Viv.” I smiled, carefully whisking my pancake mix.

“I mean it this time, he was so different and nice, and he smelt really heavenly. I almost took a bite off him.” She sighed dreamily.

“Mmmh.” I turned on my phone speaker and placed it on the holder.

I’ve been seeing this new pancake recipe that makes ordinary pancakes look and taste like the Japanese soufflé, and I was all for experimenting. I was a creature of habit and laid down rules, and naturally, I found baking relaxing. Measuring out the ingredients, watching the dough rise, deflating it, and shaping it into whatever you want has the same effect as therapy on me. These few days without work have been the most relaxing, and I’ve been trying out every new recipe in the book.

“I just wish I would run into him one more time and maybe we’d talk and get to know each other.”

“Hold on.” I paused my whisking. “You didn’t even get to talk to him?”

I honestly don’t know why I bother with her anymore. Vivian falls in love faster than a paper man on a windy day. I would’ve been concerned if she didn’t get over them at the same speed she fell for them, but fawning over a man you never spoke to is a whole new level of crazy.

“Well,” she drawled out, “I was going to speak to him, get him to notice me and stuff, but I remembered you said never to make the first move at men, so I stayed out.”

“You don’t get to use me as an excuse this time. Whatever happened to the mega mind behind my success?”

“She takes a break once in a while. But damn, his shoulders, I swear I could sit on them. So wide and strong and gorgeous.” She was practically moaning into my phone.

“When was the last time you got laid, Viv?”

“My vibrator broke down, and I’ve been too lazy to go get another one.”

“Too lazy or too shy?” I asked, recalling the last time she got one. She hid in the car the whole time while I went into the store and got everything for her.

Satisfied with the texture of my batter, I oiled my pan and poured the first scoop of my mix into it, sprinkling a handful of chocolate chips on it.

“And Viv, when I asked about getting laid, I was talking about being touched by another human and not a vibrating silicone device,” I added, flipping my pancake to the other side.

“You don’t get to lecture me about men and human connections, Arielle. When was the last time touching someone ever meant a thing to you?”

Her accusation was followed by a vivid image of Mikhail’s head between my thighs. I guess we were all ruined in our unique ways, with Vivian scared of physical intimacy and me using intimacy as a weapon. As much as I craved human connections, letting people in has always been a bit of a challenge to me. I always felt once the thrill was over and they settled to get to know me, they’d find nothing interesting and leave just like my parents had. So, I settled into using it as a weapon. That way, I wasn’t exposed to the vulnerabilities that came with intimacy.

“I have an excuse, Viv. My job is a bit too dangerous for love. What is your excuse? You work from home. You have the least threatening career, and not to mention, all the time in the world.” I shot back and was met with complete silence on the other side of the phone.

“That’s what I thought.”

“Have you heard from Mikhail?” she asked, changing the topic.

“Nope, but someone in my office told me his secretary came asking for me,” I replied, pouring in a second batch of my pancakes.

I could hear the nod in her response, “That’s good.”

“Yeah, I just need Father to—”

My sentence was cut short by the aggressive alarm of my doorbell filling the space.

“Expecting someone?” Vivian asked.

My eyebrows furrowed suspiciously as I turned off the gas and made my way to the window. “Nope. I’ve got to go, Viv. Talk later.” I clicked the end button without waiting for a response.

I discreetly pulled the curtains to the side, stretching my neck to catch a glimpse of who was outside. Save for Vivian and the occasional delivery guys, I never get any visitors at all, not even Father, and last I checked, I was not due for any deliveries.

The doorbell rang again, almost startling me this time. I rushed into my room, pulled out my tab, quickly connected to the CCTV at my doorpost, and was met with the Saturday surprise of the year. Mikhail stood at my door in all his three-piece glory with a bouquet of flowers the size of my smallest couch in his hands. I watched as he struggled to ring the bell a third time with the flowers blocking his hands. The bastard must’ve told his driver to park where I couldn’t see. Jokes on him. I was always prepared. I made my way back to the door, feigning complete surprise at the sight. “What are you doing here? Who gave you my address?”

Standing there with the flowers, he looked very different from the powerful man I was used to seeing. You could easily mistake him for a regular dude coming to woo a woman. Even the air around him was slightly different. I’m tempted to say he looked humble, but that doesn’t strike me like the right word to describe Mikhail Ivanov, even when he was making an effort to look that way. The subtle air of authority always simmered beneath whatever he was exuding.

His reply was careful and polite, as though he was scared of saying the wrong thing. “I came to see you, and I was hoping you’d join me for lunch.”

I moved my gaze from him to the flowers and back to him, observing how he seemed to be balancing his weight on one leg. It was obvious how out of his element he was. This was his first time doing this, and while the knowledge of that did something for my self-esteem, I maintained a blank face.

“You didn’t answer the second question.”

“I have my means,” he added, holding my gaze.

Since the cat was already out of the bag, he probably figured it was no use making excuses or lying.

“Thank you for your thoughtfulness, Mikhail, but I’ll pass on lunch,” I said, injecting a bit of caution into my voice. I made a show of glancing around my neighborhood and waving at random passers-by to show him I was scared of being alone with him.

“How about you show me where to put these then?” He requested, holding up the flowers with a lopsided smile.

The smooth bastard probably thought he could talk his way into any place. I opened my mouth to tell him I could carry the flowers in myself, but he beat me to it.

“Arielle, we need to talk, and I’m sure you know that. While I respect your refusal to join me for lunch, I’m certain you can at least let me in.”

“In what world does it make sense to let a person you don’t trust enough to grab lunch with into your house?” I fired back.

“But you can let them in your body,” he shot back, and I felt my skin bristle at his crude remark. “Look, Arielle, you can let me in now, or we can do this all day, and let me warn you, I’m a very patient man. You can station cops in front of your door if that’ll make you feel safer,” he added, holding my gaze.

An exasperated sigh left my lips, and I had no doubt he would make good on his words. Mikhail didn’t bluff. I moved from the doorway, making room for him to come in. He looked very out of place in my house. His size crowded the space, making it appear smaller than it was.

“Where can I keep these?” He pushed the flowers forward, and I pointed him to my kitchen counter.

“You cook?” He said, a funny look playing in his eyes as he stared at the stack of pancakes next to the cooker.

Was he really going to keep smiling like I didn’t just watch him snuff the life of an innocent man?

“You said you had something to say to me.” I pointed out with a careful tone, making sure to maintain as much distance as possible between us.

“Are you going to keep acting like I have a communicable disease and making sure that neighbors you don’t even speak to see me with you?”

“Yes, Mikhail.”

A sigh escaped his lips, and he finally settled into the sofa. “First, I would like to say how sorry I am you witnessed what happened at the club. I’m not usually that careless with my affairs.”

That’s it? He is sorry I walked in on him killing someone and not handling his affairs better?

The look of disbelief must’ve been vividly painted on my face following his half-arsed explanation as another sigh left him.

“Arielle, I’m not a good man, and I won’t pretend to be anything I’m not,” he admitted.

The weight of his confession clung tightly to the air in the room, and I found myself almost searching for clean, pure air that wasn’t tainted with his sandalwood scent. I was ready for Mikhail to warn me not to speak a word of what I saw to anyone. I was ready for him to give some stupid excuse and explanation. I was even ready for him to have me kidnapped and threatened. What I didn’t expect was total honesty from him.

In the absence of a response from me, he continued. “I’m Russian. I’m sure you must’ve figured that one out on your own.” A small smile played on his lips.

“But I’m also an Ivanov, the current Don of the Russian Bratva.” He watched me closely, waiting for the weight of his words to sink in,

“You do know what the mafia is, don’t you?”

“I watch movies, Mikhail.”

“Good because it’ll suck to give you a history lesson. Anyways, I have certain responsibilities accorded to me as the Don, and these responsibilities have nothing to do with morality, law, and order.”

“Why are you telling me this?” I asked, searching his eyes.

“Because for the first time in my life, I found myself caring about the way someone looked at me.”

A brief period of silence passed between us before he continued. “I’m not going to make promises I can’t keep, nor will I try to sway you with dishonest words and colored lenses. This is who I am, Arielle. I hate that you had to find out the way you did, but what I hated more was the way you looked at me.”

“I don’t know what I’m supposed to do with this information, Mikhail. I saw you kill an innocent man with your fist. You forced his eyes on you when you strangled him!” My voice raised slightly at the end.

While his confession came as a shock to me, I was determined to play my part perfectly. He opened his mouth to explain, but I cut him short.

“Besides, what we had was only a one-night stand. You owe me no explanation. If you’re bothered about me saying anything to the cops, you don’t have to worry about it. I’ll pretend I never saw a thing, and I won’t speak a word of it to anyone.”

A dry, humorless laughter left his throat following my little admission. “The cops are the least of my problems, Arielle, and I couldn’t care less about you running your mouth.”

“So, what then is your problem?”

“For fucks sake Arielle, you’re my problem. I’ve not slept a wink without the image of you writhing on sheets replaying in my head. Sometimes I can almost taste your pussy on the tip of my tongue, and other times I could hear your soft whimpers in my ears,” he cursed, his eyes livid with emotions.

His words shot straight to my pussy, drawing rhythmic pulsations from my clit. I crossed my legs in a discreet attempt to dull the ache and ended up intensifying it. There was nothing I hated more than the way my body responded to this man, the way he could set my skin on fire with his eyes, and the way his presence seemed to suck the air out of a room.

“It was just a one-night stand, Mikhail. It wasn’t that deep,” I replied, hating the unwelcome huskiness in my voice.

“But I want it to happen again. Heck, I’ve found myself wanting it to happen again since I ran into you at the gallery. I staged the whole thing with Xavier to get your attention, Arielle, and I’m not a man that cares for female attention.”

I felt my heart skip a beat, and my palms grew sweaty at his sudden outburst. I wasn’t prepared for this, not by a wide breath. I tore my gaze from him, scared he would see how much his words affected me. Get it together, Ari. He’s a fucking child trafficker, I mentally scolded myself.

I’ve heard people talk about how they were betrayed by their own bodies wanting things that weren’t good for them. I never paid heed to such claims and attributed it to lack of discipline, but here I was, nipples taut, pussy practically weeping for a man I should hate with every fiber in me.

“Mikhail, I don’t know—” I drawled, honestly not knowing. If I couldn’t fix whatever reaction my body was having to this man, then I’d throw my whole concentration into drawing as much as I could from him. I’ll figure out the chemistry when he’s gone, and my mind is no longer polluted by his presence.

“I want you, Arielle. It’s simple as that, and I know you feel it too. You want me.”

“What about your work? I might not know much about your world but I know you’d have a lot of enemies. What if they find out about me? What if they hurt me?” I rambled off, looking at him with the best puppy eyes I could muster.

“Nothing will happen to you, Arielle, not on my watch. We can keep it quiet and private, away from the public and anyone till you’re comfortable,” he reassured.

Till I was comfortable? What did he mean by that?

“Mikhail—”

“Three weeks, Arielle. If I don’t convince you to stick around after three weeks, then I’ll never bother you again.” His eyes were determined, and his words held a tone of finality.

Three weeks should be enough for me to figure out whatever was happening with the cargo and possibly more information. Three weeks was perfect. I can do three weeks.

“Three weeks?” I asked, my heart pounding in my ears.

“Three weeks.” His confirmation came out more as a promise than an agreement, and I couldn’t help but feel that I had just signed a deal with the devil and would pay with my blood.