Page 4 of Demetri
I've never told anyone everything that happened to me in that apartment; not even my best friend. Grace already carries around a shit load of guilt for what happened; I don't want to add to it. I met Demetri the day I was discharged from the hospital after my attack. The tall, dark, silent, domineering man that trailed behind Grace and Jake when they walked into my hospital room. The man quietly stood off in the shadows, not saying a word. Grace told me the silent Russian was the father of one of Jake's men and a friend to the club. Demetri Volkov stands at six feet two inches tall, with dark brown hair mix with a bit of gray. He's lean, with wide shoulders and a broad chest, which I'm sure leads down to some chiseled abs. Although I've never seen for myself, I can imagine. Even through his suits, I can tell Demetri keeps his body in shape. But his body is not his most spectacular attribute; it's his eyes. He has one green eye and one blue.Holy shit, my mouth is watering."Get your overactive dirty thoughts under control, Glory," I mutter to myself. I am not about to let Demetri's sexiness rule my body's reaction.Oh, who am I kidding? My panties are wet right now.Damn that Russian.
"Would you like me to walk you to your car, Glory?" Kevin asks from the doorway of my classroom effectively snapping me away from my wayward thoughts.
Kevin Learner teaches biology across the hall. He's asked me out a few times since I started working here. He's a sweet guy and not bad in the looks department, but he does nothing for me. Kevin is an average size man. I stand at five feet eleven inches, and that's without heels. Kevin is five feet ten inches at best. I have nothing against a shorter man, but let's face it, I'm a whole lot of woman. I need a man that can handle all of me. Plus, he's a bit persistent. In fact, it's borderline pushy, and that alone is a turn-off. When a man becomes pushy, it makes him look desperate. I'm not really the dating type anyway. Whenever I have an itch that needs to be scratched my battery-operated friend get the job done just the way I need it to. I used to have no problem going out and finding a man to tend to my needs but those days are in the past. My only problem is that lately, my love oven is only interested in one particular warm body.
Standing from my desk, I smooth out the knee-length red pencil skirt that I paired with a long sleeve button down leopard print blouse, and black four-inch heels. My personal style is not like the other female teachers on staff, and I don't give two shits about the disapproving looks thrown my way when I walk the halls. I am who I am. My style is loud and at times sexy, but always appropriate when at work. Although my co-workers believe if my curves are on display, then it's considered poor taste.What the fuck ever.I'll never understand why women feel threatened by one another. We should stand together and have each other's backs.
"Sure, I'll walk out with you." Just because I'm not interested in dating Kevin, doesn't mean we can't be friends.
When Kevin and I push past the double doors of the school's entrance, he makes a move to place his hand on my lower back, and I step away from his touch. It's also the moment I feel my skin prickle. I cut my gaze around the parking lot. Brushing off the feeling of being watched, I tip my head in Kevin's direction once I've reached my vehicle. "I'll see you Monday," then climb into my car. Kevin gives a slight look of annoyance at my rebuff before he turns and makes his way to his own vehicle. I guess I need to rethink trying to be his friend if he's going to act like an ass. I don't need that kind of drama. I've had enough over the past few years to last a lifetime.
After parking in the garage beneath my apartment building, I step into the elevator and make my way up to the tenth floor. I finally moved into my own place six months ago. Since my attack, I had bounced around from being in Polson with Grace and Remi to being here in Chicago with my parents. Grace came to me one day and asked me to move to Polson permanently. The offer was tempting because I desperately wanted to be near my best friend. But the truth is, as much as I wanted to be near Grace, I knew if I stayed in Polson, she would have become my crutch. I have been feeling confused and out of sorts now that I am no longer caring for Remi. I can't explain it. It's like I've lost a part of me. There was no way I would be placing that burden on my friend; not after she finally got her happy ending. So, instead, I came back home to Chicago and moved into my parents' house. It took me several months of feeling out of place and restless even with them that I decided what I needed was to get back to the life I had before. Only now that I am back to living on my own and teaching, I still feel off. Something is missing; only I don't know what.
With my keys in hand, I open the door to my apartment, and a smile takes over my face when Bo greets me. Setting my purse down on the table next to the door, I crouch down and give my boy a belly rub. "How's mommas little boy doing? Huh." Giving his fat belly one last rub, I stand and pat my leg. "Come on, Bo. Let's get you something to eat." Once I've given Bo his dinner, I make my way through my living room and past the grand floor to ceiling window that overlooks the city. I love my apartment and pay a pretty penny in rent for it too. I love the finer things in life. I guess you could say I grew up privileged. I come from money, and my trust fund allows me to enjoy a particular lifestyle. But having money does not mean I don't work hard every day of my life. My parents did not raise me to be a spoiled brat. In fact, I had to work for my allowance growing up. They made me keep my room clean, wash the dishes every day after school, vacuum, clean the bathroom, you name it, I did it. I didn't receive my trust until I finished college. School was something else my mom and dad insisted I excel at.
Ambling to my bedroom and into my walk-in closet, I step out of my pumps and place them on the shoe rack. Once I've stripped out of my clothes, I walk into my bathroom and start the shower. When the steam of the hot water fills the room, I step inside the tiled stall and under the hot spray of water. Tilting my head back, I close my eyes and relish the feel of the water beating down on my body. In an instant, my thoughts drift to Demetri,and it causes a familiar ache between my legs. The very ache that as of late seems to be owned by Volkov. I hate how my body only responds to thoughts of him; the very man I have spent months and countless hours trying to forget.
Giving in to the urge, I run my palms up my hips, and along my ribs until I reach my heavy breasts. I cup my them, then let out a throaty moan as I tug on my nipples. The sensation causes my clit to throb with need. The moment my hand makes contact with my wet center, the sound of the doorbell ringing blares through my apartment.Fuck.
Turning the water off, I step out of the shower, grab the robe that's hangin on the back of the door and wrap it around my wet body. The bell goes off again, followed by a loud knock adding to my frustration. "Hold the fuck on! I'm coming!" I shout.
Flinging the door open, I square off with the twenty-something guy standing in front of me with his mouth gaped open. Probably due to the fact, my wet body has soaked through my robe, and my hard nipples are on display. Who the fuck cares? I'm not shy. I'm sure my tits are the best thing this dude has seen all week. "What!" I fume. When the pervert doesn't speak and continues to ogle my breasts, I snap my fingers in front of his face. "Yo, dipshit. Eyes up here," I say gesturing to my face, knocking the guy out of his stupor.
"Sorry, ma'am. I have a delivery for a Miss Glory Keller," he says thrusting an abundant bouquet of Morning Glory flowers toward me. As soon as the flowers are in my arms, the guy continues to stand there and stare as if he's never seen breasts before. "You can go," I say dismissing him, before shutting the door in his face.
With my flowers in hand, I walk out onto my balcony and place the crate down on the patio table. Spotting the card sticking out of the arrangement, I pluck it out and open it. Although I already know what it says and who they are from. I get the same delivery every week; once a week since I moved into my apartment. And considering who he is and the connections he has, I don't have to ask how he knows where I live. My balcony is overflowing in Morning Glories. Each week a different color. Today's are blue. Opening the card, I read the same word I read every week.
Krasivaya.
"Nice fucking timing, asshole," I mutter out loud. That man is confusing. I have no idea what his intentions are when it comes to me. I'd like to say I have come a long way in recent months when it comes to moving on from my past, but I fear Demetri Volkov will always be my weakness.
3
Demetri
"Sergei, have all my associates arrived?"
"Yes, sir."
I straighten my tie as I climb out of the car with my cell phone pressed against my ear. "Good." Pressing end, I tuck the phone into the inside pocket of my blazer and step inside my office building located in the heart of the city right next to the waterway. Volkov Architecture is one of my family's legit businesses. It is also used to filter money. I debated selling the company after my father's passing, but Nikolai's passion for the place is what had me reconsider. Ever since Nikolai was a boy, he was interested in building things. It is that reason why I wasn't surprised he teamed up with Logan's club to start up a construction company. Nikolai has never been one not to get his hands dirty and dive head first into something he feels is worthwhile. With his knowledge of architecture and his passion for creating beautiful structures, he is one of the reasons he and The Kings' have such a successful company.
I was informed an hour ago about Yerik's death — his murder, but word tends to travel fast within our circle. By now, everyone will have heard of his demise and the way he met his maker. The problem is who in the hell would want to kill a man already on his deathbed? Despite the fact he didn't have enough energy to walk on his own; he still had a clear and present mind. He had all his wits about him. However, that also made him a sitting duck for many of his enemies. It's a known fact a couple of well-known wealthy businessmen tried to off him a few times in the past. Maybe they finally saw their opportunity. Still, why not wait for him to die? Yerik had his hands and money in many ventures, so there is no way of knowing just yet what or why.
My leather shoes clack against the black marble floor of the lobby as I make my way toward the elevator.
"Good evening, Mr. Volkov," the young receptionist greets me as I walk past her desk. She's a beautiful, petite brunette. As we pause for the elevator doors to open, I notice Victor's gaze locks on her.
I clear my throat. "You may go home for the day, Natalia." I watch the blush turn her cheeks a soft rosy hue and her eyes quickly shift to mine.
"Thank you, Mr. Volkov," she softly replies, just as we step into the elevator.
The ride to the top is swift. When the doors slide open, I find Sergei leaning over the desk of my personal assistant Anya who has made it known to me in the past she is profoundly uncomfortable with his advances.
"Sergei," I bark.
"Mr. Volkov," his eyes dart from me to Victor. "It's good to have you home."
"I believe we had a conversation a few months ago about your interest in Anya."
