Page 8 of The Tsar's Obsession
"Okay...those are extremely tight deadlines, Kirill. Do you have any wiggle room with your move-in date? Also, that's a huge sum of money to pay all cash. You’ll have to sign off on legal papers with our office about the source of the money," she responded coldly and professionally.
Ugh. America. Everyone needed to know where my money came from.
"The source of my money doesn't concern anyone here. I come from Russia; I have business there, and it does well. I want to spend it on real estate, end of story." Annoyance brewed inside me for the millionth time this year. Nobody asked private questions like that back home. I caught myself right in time. “But yes, I can move a little later. I just want a place soon."
While Mia contemplated how to move forward, I waited patiently and hungrily took in the sight of her.
Nine years. That’s nine winters and nine summers spent without her. I missed nine of her birthdays. But it took time to get here.
"Alright, I understand. Let me check my schedule, and then I can send a few comparable properties to what you liked.” I noticed she placed her palms on her thighs, as if trying to ground herself.
“Your schedule has been cleared. Let’s go see some properties tomorrow evening.”
Another pause—another surprise about to shatter her expectations.
“I’m sorry?”
"Your manager…Mark? We agreed this morning that you would give up all your clients for now. I want someone dedicated just to me." It was so satisfying to watch her expression become uncertain with every passing second. I enjoyed it, a bit too much perhaps. She was losing control of this transaction, and that understanding was slowly seeping in.
"Ex– excuse me?” Her voice was sharp. It was clear she was trying to keep it professional. “You had a chance to speak with my boss regarding my clients, and what? I don't even understand how that's possible!" She threw her hands up momentarily, exasperated and furious. She stared through me, demanding an answer, and I loved it. I loved watching her realize that she was completely at my mercy.
"Mia...I make what I want possible. No big deal. Your clients will be moved to another broker for the time being, and Mark agreed that it would be best if one of his brokers was dedicated just to me because of my situation." Mark seemed like a fucking slimeball, the way he folded within a few minutes. I barely had to ask; he almost proposed it himself, throwing one of his top agents into the arms of an unknown and foreign client just to get the commission.
"I'm sorry, what's the situation, exactly? Something else I'm clearly unaware of." Mia crossed her arms and waited for a coherent answer. She was so close that it was the hardest thing in the world to remain sitting so far away from her, but I sat up and leaned on my knees, basking in all her anger, which she hid so well.
"You see, my government doesn’t like that I invest outside Russia. They want me back. But I'm not a criminal!" I lied with innocent eyes. "And I don't want to or have to obey, and so I come here, where they can't ask for me back, but they try in other ways. I need someone I can trust." That was all total bullshit; my government had nothing against me. On the contrary, a good number of government officials were on my payroll.
The story seemed plausible though. Mia contemplated my words and her gaze wandered, quickly darting away from my lap.
I could see it now, her sitting on my knees, her arms around my neck, her body and soul mine for the taking, mine toown.
It was just us; her office was private,tucked away in a corner. What was stopping me from restarting where we left off almost a decade ago? Nothing. There was nothing in my way now. I had overcome all the obstacles.
My patience was wearing thin. It was holding on by a thread, and she was finally,finallywithin arm’s reach. Fuck, I wanted her. I wanted herso badly.No one would stop me from having my way with her right here and now.
Mia sat silently as she considered the situation I placed her in, but my mind was working overtime. I saw it in my head, felt the soft skin of her cheeks graze against my fingertips, just like that one and only time. I would lean in and steal it—steal that long-awaited kiss. Oh fuck, I would take everything from her. I would crash my lips with hers and devour her until we were both out of breath.
Then, in my mind, I saw her bent over that mahogany desk, her skirt raised while I laid my eyes on what I so long desired. Her body riveted my imagination for almost a decade, and I would finally take what I wanted. Yes, I would whisper in her ear and tell her how many times I’d dreamt about this: me fucking her senseless, her belonging to me.
So fucking beautiful, so mine. She wouldn’t be able to go anywhere, and I longed to run my hand up and in between her thighs—my fingers just barely grazing her panties, savoring the moment before I felt how wet she was for me.
My eyes were on Mia’s face, but I imagined plunging into her sweet pussy, pressing her into the desk, fucking her raw, and watching her eyes roll into the back of her head.
I would thrust in, her body shuddering beneath me, a sweet moan escaping her lips. I would tell her to be quiet, that she was a nasty girl for moaning so loudly with so many people around. I imagined her hair in my hand. Imagined pulling it back, all of her belonging to me.
She was mine; I would do what I wanted. I would squeeze her delicious ass cheeks and watch my dick slide in and out, just likeI’d dreamt about for years. I could do it now, this second. I wanted it. And I always got what I wanted.
The taste of her lips, the smell of her hair, my tongue in her mouth. Ambrosia.
“Kirill?” Somewhere far away, a sweet voice called my name, and I refocused my eyes on the angel in front of me. Dear Lord, I had to put my hands in front of my crotch to hide my damn hard on. She repeated my name, and it suddenly became the most delightful sound. I never wanted another woman to pronounce it again, only her.
What in the actual fuck was wrong with me? That feeling returned, like I didn’t know what to do, like I was lost, just like the first time I saw her—powerless.
I didn’t like that. My position was clear: I held all the power. I was at the top: all the Russian Bratva answered to me, for fuck’s sake. Men all over the largest country in the world bowed downto me. I was always in control, and everyone knew their place. Everyone was beneath me.
Except her.
After my uncontrollable foray into the dirty fantasy, guilt burned my conscience for thinking that way about her. I never wanted to use her like all the other women I’d been with. For the first time ever…I didn’t want submission.
