Paying The Bratva’s Debt

by Cole, Jagger

  She’s really barely ever been out of that townhouse. All of her schooling was remote. She has only the remotest presence on social media, and this Zoey girl it would seem is her only close friend. But more of a picture comes to me as I dig: not just no friends. No boyfriends. There’s nothing. No texts, no contacts in her phone. Nothing like Tinder or anything like that.

  Christ, with her having been cooped up in that townhouse her whole life, I almost wonder if she’s somehow a…

  My jaw clenches, my cock suddenly surging with desire. I frown at the thought. Could it be that this girl has never been with a boy? Is the innocent little prize I’ve got locked away upstairs really so untouched by any other man?

  The thought of being the very first to touch her—to taste her, to make her scream and to spread her gorgeous legs wide apart and be the first to sink my cock into her sweet little heaven, is almost too much. I groan, feeling my balls swell and my cock lurch in my pants.

  I steady myself though, taking a breath. I glance back at the laptop and check her internet history next. When I glance at her recent searches though, I smile broadly.

  She’s been googling me.

  There are news articles about my “alleged” involvement in dozens of crimes they’d never be able to pin on me. There’s tabloid stuff too, since those shitty magazines seem to love blabbing about me as if I’m some in-demand male celebrity. I keep scanning the searches, until I stop. My smile widens even more, smugly.

  She’s found the picture of me on the yacht. It was taken a year ago by some paparazzi with a good zoom lens, when I was trying to find a moment’s vacation in the Mediterranean. I’m not posing, I’m just standing on the bow, shirtless. But the tabloids ran wild with it. All of a sudden, I was on the ridiculous “most in-demand celebrity bachelors” list.

  I’m not vain, but I do keep in impeccable shape. I won’t deny that the picture was flattering, either. But just the same, it’s nothing I wanted. There’s a saying in America that there’s “no such thing as bad press.” In my line of work though, it’s bullshit. With what I do, any press is bad press.

  But again, I glance at how many times in her search history the picture comes up. I grin. It’s a lot.

  I’m about to close the laptop down, when I glance at the bottom of the security program. Next to an icon of a microphone, a light is blinking red. I growl as I lean close to the laptop and click the microphone button. Instantly, the sweetest, most enticing sound floods my ears.

  It’s Fiona, and she’s moaning.

  My blood boils, and my lust surges to the forefront. I click onto the security cameras in her room. Like her phone, I made sure the second we got to my house that the feeds from her quarters would go through my laptop, and my laptop only. The camera’s view fills the screen as I turn up the volume a bit. My cock is rock-fucking-hard in seconds.

  Fiona is laid out across her bed with her phone laying next to her. She’s still wearing the slinky see-through nighty. But it’s slipped down one shoulder, baring one of her full, creamy tits with a rosy pink nipple. She’s writhing on top of the duvet cover, one hand teasing the exposed nipple. But the other one is between her legs, rubbing frantically.

  I groan. Instantly, I reached down and unzip my fly. I lift my hips and shove my slacks down along with my boxers, and my thick cock springs hard against my abs. I wrap a hand around my shaft and snarl as I start to stroke, rapidly.

  My eyes are glued to her as she touches herself. I stroke my dick in time with the way her hand moves between her thighs. Fiona moans as she touches her pussy, gasping loudly as her body begins to tighten and shudder. I stroke faster, pumping my fist up and down my throbbing hard shaft. Precum drips from the tip, trickling copiously down to make me sticky and slick.

  Fiona throws her head back. Her hips buck against her hand, and her face contorts in sweet agony. When I hear her start to cum, I let go. My balls surge, and I grunt as the hot cum spurts from my swollen tip. The sticky white ropes land across my hand and suit pants. I groan, slowing as she does.

  Fiona sighs deeply and sinks into the bed. She’s grinning, her face blushing as her legs shake. Eventually, she stands and walks into the dressing room. I switch to a different camera. I hungrily watch her change out of the teddy, my cock not going soft in the slightest. She changes into regular pajamas, crawls into bed, and pulls up the covers. The lights go out.

  I groan, sitting back in my chair. I’m still holding my dick, and it’s still so damn hard. I watch through the night vision camera as Fiona twists and turns, before going still. And then, all I can hear is her rhythmic breathing as she slowly falls asleep.

  7

  Fiona

  I squint my eyes, frowning as the voice loudly snaps me out of my dreams. My head lifts from the pillow, and I look across the room with bleary eyes as Nina begins throwing open curtains on the windows.

  “What…” I wrinkle my nose, hating that I’m awake right now. “What time is it?”

  “Six. Up and at em!” Nina looks downright gleeful to be waking me so early. She’s beaming when she walks briskly across the room and tugs at my comforter. “Time to get up.”

  I groan and slowly sit up in the bed. My legs swing out before Nina decides to yank me out of the bed by force. I’ve never been a big morning person, and today isn’t any exception. My body still wishes it was under the covers, and my brain is still struggling to start up. I stand, stretching in the silk pajamas that of course fit me perfectly.

  “Why am I awake so early?”

  Nina smiles with glee. “Because you have work to do.”

  “Uh, what?”

  Viktor’s brunette assistant marches over to the door and sticks her head out. I hear her say something in Russian. A moment later, one of the big bodyguard-type guys who was with Viktor in my father’s office yesterday steps in lugging a tower of legal document boxes.

  I frown. “What are these?”

  “Your work.”

  “Excuse me?”

  The big guy with the tattoos and arms bigger than my body sets the boxes down. Then he turns and wordlessly walks out.

  Nina’s lips purse. “Did you think staying here was a vacation?”

  “Not for a single second,” I mutter right back, glaring at her.

  She just smirks. “Mr. Komarov would like your assistance in some legal matters. You start today, right now.”

  “I’m not a lawyer.”

  She frowns. “Pardon?”

  “I just graduated law school. I haven’t taken the Bar Exam or anything.”

  Nina sighs. “Of course you haven’t. Well, nevertheless, Mr. Komarov would like your assistance with this legal matter.”

  I frown at the stack of boxes she nods at, and I shuffle over to them. “Uh, okay, what sort of legal matter?”

  The big bodyguard guy steps back in and walks right over to me. He passes a mug of steaming coffee and a plate with a blueberry muffin on it to me. When I look up at him in shock, his stoic face cracks just the tiniest bit into a grin, and he winks.

  “Oh my God, thank you!” I groan. He wordless grins again before his face hardens back to stone. Then he turns to leave. Nina just rolls her eyes.

  “You’ll find what you need in these boxes. Be ready in three hours.”

  “Ready for what?”

  “Work. You’re accompanying Mr. Komarov to a meeting at nine. Dress appropriately.”

  Without another word, the ice queen turns sharply on her heels and marches out the door. I sigh slowly and walk over to the boxes of documents. Okay, time for work.

  I shower quickly and change into a really smart pencil skirt and white blouse combo from the closet. It’s… revealing. Actually, most of the clothes I find inside, even the office-type clothes, are pushing it a little. None of them are overly slutty or scandalous. But it’s all things that would get some wolfish looks in an office.

  I get the feeling that it’s no accident, either.

  When I’m dressed and feeling profes
sional, I finally start to go through the legal documents stacked in the bedroom. There’s no workspace though, so I end up dragging the vanity out of the closet, inch by inch across the floor, and using that as a desk.

  The documents seem to be about some kind of land deal. There’s an old factory and some scrapyard space in Southside, and it looks like Viktor is trying to buy it off the current owner—some really fake looking LLC. I almost want to chase after Nina and ask what exactly I should be preparing for. But I’m pretty confident helping me is the last thing on her to-do list, ever.

  So instead, I just start reading and get to work. I actually specialized in zoning law and land use in law school, so everything I’m looking at makes sense, at least. Without knowing the details or what the deal is, it’s a little like shooting in the dark. But I do end up pulling out a lot of documents I think I might need.

  I’m so engrossed in the work that I don’t even look at the time until Nina marches right in without knocking.

  “Time’s up,” she says flatly. “Ready?”

  I kind of want to ask her if it matters, or if she cares. I’d also like to ask her why she’s got a chip on her shoulder when it comes to me.

  “I… yes. I think.”

  “Yes, or you think?”

  “If I need more time, am I going to get it?”

  She smiles. “No.”

  “Well, then I’m ready.”

  “Wonderful. Mr. Komarov and Mr. Nychkov are waiting downstairs. Bring what you need, and let’s go.”

  I collect the stack of important documents I’ve pulled out, slip a pair of heels on, and follow Nina through the huge mansion. With it being daytime now, I can see out the windows as we pass. My jaw drops at the lavish, impeccably manicured lawns, gardens, hedges, and roses surrounding Viktor’s elegant home.

  Down the curved staircase in the massive entryway, Viktor and the stoic looking guy who seems to be his number two are waiting for me. Viktor’s eyes find mine when I’m halfway down the stairs, and they’re sizzling into me. His jaw grinds, and I tremble. I blush, faltering slightly on the stairs as I remember the kiss. My eyes fall to his lips before I can quickly pull them back up. But he knows. He sees where my eyes have gone, and he knows. He smiles smugly at me as my face burns hotly.

  “Fiona,” he growls, making me tremble again. “This is Lev, my second in command. Lev, this is Ms. Murray.”

  “Good morning,” Lev grunts. He gives me a quick, skeptical look before he turns and heads outside. Nina wordlessly turns to march away, leaving Viktor and I alone.

  My heart races, and all I can think about is the kiss—how his lips tasted, and the thrill of him demanding it from me like he did. I remember what happened later, too. After he left, when I couldn’t stop the desire burning inside of me and did what I did. All while picturing of him, I think as my face burns even hotter.

  “Are you ready?” Viktor growls.

  “I—” I swallow. “Yes.”

  He looks amused by my quick answer. But he nods. “Sleep well last night?”

  My mind instantly replays the kiss, again. And then the way I touched myself—the way I came while imaging his face and those perfect lips on my skin.

  “Uh-huh,” I mumble quickly.

  He grins at me, and my face darkens. God, it almost feels like he’s looking into my thoughts, and knows exactly what I did last night while imagining him. My blush deepens as my heart races like crazy.

  “Well then. Let’s go.”

  I stare up at the sign above the body-shop we’ve just parked in front of.

  “Drucci?” I say quietly. The sign above the west side auto shop reads “Drucci Customizations and Autobody.” It looks innocuous enough. But you’d have to be living under a freaking rock to not know the Drucci name in this town. Specially, Joey Drucci Senior.

  If Viktor is the suave, handsome, sexy face of organized crime in Chicago, Joey is the other side of the coin. Viktor obviously gets away with all sorts of things, since he’s so careful to distance himself from anything legally. Joey avoids prison through open threats and violence. Two years ago, he was all over the news after they finally pinned a quadruple homicide, including a cop, on him.

  The case was a slam dunk apparently, too. That is, until members of the jury started not showing up to court. Then the ballistics expert was in a car crash and died on impact after flipping over a highway divider. Then the lead prosecutor’s wife was mugged coming home from work. When the judge herself woke up to a bullet in her front door, the whole thing was called as a mistrial. By the time a new trial could be set up, every star witness was missing or dead, and most of the evidence had disappeared from custody. So the case against Joey Drucci disappeared.

  “As in…”

  “As in Joey Drucci, yes,” Viktor grunts. He glances at Lev, and then back at the three big men in black suits who’ve arrived in the car behind us. Something tells me I’m not the only one thinking about how dangerous any idea it is to sit down with that maniac.

  “You’ve looked over the documents?”

  I nod. “As much as I could. I didn’t have much time to prepare.”

  “But you understand the gist?”

  “He owns a building, and you want to buy it.”

  Viktor smirks thinly. “At its barest, yes. Except Joey is dragging his heels. And even if he finally agrees to terms, there’s a mountain of bureaucratic tape around the property.”

  “Yeah, because it’s a dump,” I mutter.

  Viktor grins for a second before his face hardens as usual. “Perhaps. But I want that dump, and I want it now. It will be your job to help make that happen.”

  Without waiting for an answer, he strides forward to the door to the shop. He rings, and two Italian guys who are obviously armed under their suit jackets step out.

  “Come in, Mr. Drucci is expecting you.”

  Even though I’m with the most dangerous man in the city, along with four other equally huge and tough looking Russian mobsters, I still tremble when we step into the shop. Inside, a few more of Drucci’s men quickly frisk everyone. One guy finishes with Lev and grins lecherously as he approaches me.

  But suddenly, Viktor’s hand shoots out. He grabs the man by the collar, twisting tightly. He snarls and shoves the man back.

  “No,” Viktor grunts.

  “Mr. Komarov,” one of the senior-looking Italian guys sighs. “Business meeting or not, Mr. Drucci—”

  “Attempt to put your hand on her again, and I will cut them off,” the Russian hisses icily.

  I feel all the eyes in the room on me. My face burns, and I worry my lower lip as I look at the floor. The savage possessiveness in his tone makes me tremble. It scares me, but it also has my core tightening and my every thought on the kiss last night.

  The man who just tried to frisk me down clears his throat. “I’ll, uh, I’ll tell Mr. Drucci you’re here.”

  “Wonderful,” Viktor growls.

  The Italian’s file out. Viktor, Lev, his men, and I all take seats in the waiting room area. Minutes tick by. Then more. When half an hour has passed, Lev suddenly stands. He turns to Viktor and starts growling something furiously in Russian. Viktor answers in the same language, though his tone is much more level.

  “Viktor!” Lev hisses. “This is disrespectful. We should leave.”

  “I need that space, Lev,” Viktor grunts back quietly. He glances at me. I blush, simmering under his gaze. But then suddenly, the door to the room opens and two of Joey’s men step in.

  “This way.”

  Viktor says nothing. But even just looking at him, you can tell his silence doesn’t mean acceptance of being made to wait like this. He’s more calculating than he appears to be, and I get the feeling that’s one of the biggest reason’s he’s managed to build the empire he has.

  “Ey! It’s Viktor! Get in here, comrade!”

  Joey Drucci is a paunchy, sleazy looking guy with slicked back thinning hair and a sweaty collar. He’s sitting at the head o
f a conference table in an expensive looking but badly fitting suit. But he doesn’t get up when Viktor steps inside. He pats the top of the table next to him.

  “Come, have a seat.”

  “Our meeting was half an hour ago,” Viktor says coolly.

  “Well, you know how it is,” Joey shrugs.

  I frown, trying to make sense of it. I’m hardly an expert. But even I know that in the criminal food chain of Chicago, Viktor Komarov is way higher than a guy like Joey Drucci. But the Italian mobster is almost taunting Viktor—making him wait, playing everything so casual.

  I think back to the documents I was pouring over earlier. This property that Viktor wants from Joey is objectively garbage. It’s a condemned building on land that’s been deemed an environmental hazard. It would take more money to clean the site up than you would ever get back developing it. If you could even somehow get the permitting to do anything with it at all.

  But obviously, Viktor wants it. And even more obviously, Joey knows it, and is using it as a shield to act as rudely and cavalierly as he wants to the more powerful man.

  Viktor crosses the room and sinks into the chair to the left of Joey. He glances at me, and his eyes gesture to the chair next to him. Feeling my face flush, I quickly take the seat, with Lev on the other side of me.

  “So, where were we last time?”

  “I believe I was making you a more than generous offer for your abandoned sneaker factory.”

  Joey grins. “Yeah, yeah that’s right.” He throws his hands up, shrugging. “What can I say, comrade. I’m attached to the place.”

  “So attached that you couldn’t agree to forty million?”

  My jaw drops. Forty freaking million? Who in their right mind would pay that for the all but unusable land in the terrible section of town?

  “Like I said, comrade,” Joey grins smugly. “I’m attached to it.”

  Viktor says nothing for minute. “So be it. Forty-five. But that’s my final offer.”

  The Italian mobster sighs and sits back in his chair. He pulls out a cigar and slowly cuts the end off. One of his men leans forward to hold a lighter as Joey puffs it slowly.