Page 16 of Control: XXX Vadim 1
“This has been lovely,” he says, lurching to his feet in an enviable display of grace. “Sadly, we must be going.”
“Awww!” The little girl whines from her spot near the end of the table. “You have to go now?”
“Ainsley…” Francesca cuts her gaze in the girl’s direction, her tone a warning.
Undeterred, Ainsley pouts. “I wanted to show you my pony, Uncle Dima.”
“Some other time,” he says before taking a gallant bow.
“Wait.” Milton inclines his head toward Maxim. Something wordlessly passes between the two of them. Then Milton turns to Vadim. “Dinner,” he says. “Neutral territory. Next week?”
Vadim says nothing and starts from the room, leaving me to follow. At the door, I return the jacket to the older man, and by the time I leave the house, Vadim is already at the car.
With his back to me, he palms the door. “You survived.” He has the nerve to sound surprised at that. Impressed.
“Fuck. You,” I spit, utilizing the dirtiest word in my newfound freedom-vocabulary. When he whirls around, an eyebrow cocked in amusement; I lose any shred of restraint. Leveling him with my nastiest glare, I go off. “You used me. You dragged me here, for what? To make your brother think you disrespected him by bringing some stupid slut around his children? To his home? What the hell is wrong with you?”
“Plenty.” His jaw clenches, his expression icier than ever. “You earned this, I suppose,” he says, flicking something at me too quickly to catch. Thin, rectangular, and silver, it lands at my feet—some type of business card. “When you make a reservation, use my name,” he states. “Otherwise, you won’t be allowed entry.”
I eye the card again, recognizing it for what it is. The price of my humiliation, it seems—entrance to some exclusive sex club.
“You know what? Screw you!” I flip him the finger and start down the driveway, staggering in my heels. “Do you know how you made me feel?”
“Inconvenienced?” he guesses in that cutting tone. “The feeling was mutual, I can assure you—”
“Sabotaged,” I snap, whirling to face him. “Insulted. Humiliated. Hurt. I told myself a long time ago that I would never let anyone ever make me feel that way again.”
Go figure. I’ve failed in that respect.
“Consider it practice for when you bare yourself before strangers who only want to fuck you,” he suggests. “I do hope you enjoy the amenities. I hear they’re quite debauched.”
My cheeks flame and something inside me snaps. “Practice? Oh, trust me, I don’t need any practice. After that night with you, I’mdesperateto be ogled by someone who doesn’t think he’s too good to have his cock sucked.”
His eyes widen and narrow in quick succession. Did I hit a sore spot? Gosh, I hope so.
“Does this get you off rather than fucking?” I wonder, gesturing around us with a harsh, cackling laugh. “Bringing me all the way across the country to what? Get under your brother’s skin? Hurt some sleazy slut who had the nerve to approach you? Well, sorry to break it to you, but I’m fine, Vadim. I am more than fine!” I stroll past him and stoop for the business card, brandishing it like a hard-fought trophy. “You know what, I will go get ogled by strangers, and I’m going to enjoy every fucking minute of it! I’m going to fuck as many men as I can, too. Suck every last cock that will have me, and then…” My chest heaves, my body radiating anger, and I have to gulp down enough air just to keep going. “I’m going to compare every last one of them to yours. How they feel. How they taste. From now on, I’m going to keep a running tally of all the bastards who fuck better than Vadim Gorgoshev could ever dream. Choke on that while you’re on your private plane.”
Card in tow, I keep marching down the driveway, blinking rapidly.Almost there, Tiffy,I plead with my inner waterworks.Just a little more. You can make it.
“Oh, and don’t think you’ve stranded me or that I’ll be crying out on the street tonight,” I shout back to Vadim. “Call and have the hotel switch the room over to me. I can pay for it. Have a good fucking night, Vadim. I hope you run into a beautiful escort, one-hundred percent your type who fleeces you for all you’re worth.”
“You really think you can walk back to the city?” he wonders in a voice like steel.
I flick my hair over my shoulder and walk faster. “Watch me.”
He makes a sound between a grunt and scoff. Not even a full minute later, his sports car is racing past me, leaving me in the dust.
I wave at him with none of the decorum befitting a well-bred lady.
Then I suck in air, wobble on my heels, and the tears start coming down hard. I must get lost—enough for someone from the house to take pity on me. It isn’t long before another car pulls up alongside me. The driver is the same kind-eyed figure who let me borrow his jacket.
“Can I give you a ride, Miss?” he says, his tone polite.
I sniffle and nod, climbing into the backseat.
Then I endure the ride into the city, plotting the next phase of my adventure—shameless, sexual revenge.
Chapter Seven
