shit.
“No way! I like friends more. I can cuddle on your lap and not worry about anything.”
Oh Christ.
The others are laughing so hard I can hear them over the pumping music surrounding us.
“Angel, shh.”
“Hmmm, I’m gonna go dance with the girls. Save my seat!”
Off she goes then, weaving drunkenly with an equally toasted Liza as my brothers keep laughing and then stop abruptly, looking over at me with remorse.
“We hurt her today, Misha. I do not like it,” Leo grates, shooting his own drink as he keeps Tatiana in his sights.
I don’t like it either, but my deadline is looming and with Irina’s insistence that we remain just friends, I do not have the luxury of time. I need her to need another location, and I need it soon before things become dire.
“She will be fine, Leo. The shop down the block is bigger and more suited to the amount of people who traipse in and out of her place all day. She’ll be happy and we’ll be okay.”
“And her family, Misha? That was harsh,” Vadim seethes, lifting a hand to order another round.
I feel terrible about that, but I need her to need me, and right now that’s all I’m going for. A happy Irina is my only goal, but to get her there fully I need her to be vulnerable. I need her to want me in her life.
She does now, and for that I am grateful, something I never thought I would be when considering a woman and my money. Stranger still is the feelings of remorse I have.
You see, I’m a mafioso’s son. I’ve dragged my way to the top of the heap using nothing but my wits, determination, and start-up capital I borrowed from my father—with a hefty interest rate, of course.
I never hesitate on a deal, and I never let guilt eat me alive after I’ve trampled my way over all obstacles.
I know that what I am doing is necessary, not only for my company or my family but for her, yet I still feel terrible.
“You’re digging yourself a hole,” Leo says again as we watch the mess that is our women dancing down below.
Irina can’t dance for shit, and her idea of rhythm makes a broomstick look loose. Nik is too uptight to be any more graceful, and Tatiana makes a stripper look tame, but they’re having such a blast that I can’t deny my amusement even as the music changes and they start going nuts.
“It will be fine, Vadi. I just need to get this first hurdle cleared and we’ll be okay.”
***
Irina
“I wan’t your…body! Want it hot. I want your…loving! I want a shot.”
The feel of the showerheads pulsing over my aching muscles is heavenly as I try to sing my way through a raging hangover early the next morning. I am the worst example of hungover. I don’t lie in bed all day bemoaning my fate or even whine when my head feels like a bus ran over it.
I laugh in the face of a little liver damage and fake my way through the pain, choosing instead to focus on what I can do to get over the hurdle.
“Oh God, Irina, stop that caterwauling!” Misha groans again, for like the millionth time, his lazy ass probably still splayed out on my sofa.
I giggle again, wincing with a pout as my head throbs, reminding me of my overindulgence and my own stupidity in not hydrating like I usually do.
“No! You shut up.”
It was a little awkward when I woke this morning and stumbled into the living room to find the man passed out cold, wearing only black cotton briefs and a messy hairdo that made my nipples say a quick hello.
I’m feeling closer to human a few minutes later when I shut off the water and pull the curtain back, only to see Misha as he leans over the toilet and lets himself go, groaning out loud as his bladder releases and lets off a stream.
“You are a wicked woman, Irina, my angel. You got me drunk and now you’re standing there staring at my cock,” he mumbles grouchily, not bothering to look at me.
Thank God because my mouth is hanging open and I’m pretty sure there’s drool hanging out when he flicks his shaft and unhurriedly
“No way! I like friends more. I can cuddle on your lap and not worry about anything.”
Oh Christ.
The others are laughing so hard I can hear them over the pumping music surrounding us.
“Angel, shh.”
“Hmmm, I’m gonna go dance with the girls. Save my seat!”
Off she goes then, weaving drunkenly with an equally toasted Liza as my brothers keep laughing and then stop abruptly, looking over at me with remorse.
“We hurt her today, Misha. I do not like it,” Leo grates, shooting his own drink as he keeps Tatiana in his sights.
I don’t like it either, but my deadline is looming and with Irina’s insistence that we remain just friends, I do not have the luxury of time. I need her to need another location, and I need it soon before things become dire.
“She will be fine, Leo. The shop down the block is bigger and more suited to the amount of people who traipse in and out of her place all day. She’ll be happy and we’ll be okay.”
“And her family, Misha? That was harsh,” Vadim seethes, lifting a hand to order another round.
I feel terrible about that, but I need her to need me, and right now that’s all I’m going for. A happy Irina is my only goal, but to get her there fully I need her to be vulnerable. I need her to want me in her life.
She does now, and for that I am grateful, something I never thought I would be when considering a woman and my money. Stranger still is the feelings of remorse I have.
You see, I’m a mafioso’s son. I’ve dragged my way to the top of the heap using nothing but my wits, determination, and start-up capital I borrowed from my father—with a hefty interest rate, of course.
I never hesitate on a deal, and I never let guilt eat me alive after I’ve trampled my way over all obstacles.
I know that what I am doing is necessary, not only for my company or my family but for her, yet I still feel terrible.
“You’re digging yourself a hole,” Leo says again as we watch the mess that is our women dancing down below.
Irina can’t dance for shit, and her idea of rhythm makes a broomstick look loose. Nik is too uptight to be any more graceful, and Tatiana makes a stripper look tame, but they’re having such a blast that I can’t deny my amusement even as the music changes and they start going nuts.
“It will be fine, Vadi. I just need to get this first hurdle cleared and we’ll be okay.”
***
Irina
“I wan’t your…body! Want it hot. I want your…loving! I want a shot.”
The feel of the showerheads pulsing over my aching muscles is heavenly as I try to sing my way through a raging hangover early the next morning. I am the worst example of hungover. I don’t lie in bed all day bemoaning my fate or even whine when my head feels like a bus ran over it.
I laugh in the face of a little liver damage and fake my way through the pain, choosing instead to focus on what I can do to get over the hurdle.
“Oh God, Irina, stop that caterwauling!” Misha groans again, for like the millionth time, his lazy ass probably still splayed out on my sofa.
I giggle again, wincing with a pout as my head throbs, reminding me of my overindulgence and my own stupidity in not hydrating like I usually do.
“No! You shut up.”
It was a little awkward when I woke this morning and stumbled into the living room to find the man passed out cold, wearing only black cotton briefs and a messy hairdo that made my nipples say a quick hello.
I’m feeling closer to human a few minutes later when I shut off the water and pull the curtain back, only to see Misha as he leans over the toilet and lets himself go, groaning out loud as his bladder releases and lets off a stream.
“You are a wicked woman, Irina, my angel. You got me drunk and now you’re standing there staring at my cock,” he mumbles grouchily, not bothering to look at me.
Thank God because my mouth is hanging open and I’m pretty sure there’s drool hanging out when he flicks his shaft and unhurriedly
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