Mickey crossed his right leg over his left knee and rested his hand on his black dress shoes. “I was told by some very important people here in Miami that you were the man to see about girls. I represent the fighter, Igor Klenchvenko.” He paused for a second to let that sink in. “We’re throwing a huge party for his muckity muck investors at that new club on the strip, High Tide, next Saturday night. These folks who are coming are going to want some entertainment, specialty acts, pretty but not cheap. You know what I mean?”
Ryan curled up his lip and gave a knowing shrug. “I think I know some girls like that.”
Mickey’s finger rubbed over the arm of the chair. So far, he was not appreciating Ryan’s smugness. “I need more than a few girls. That’s why I was told to come to you. I can get one or two, maybe even ten working girls off my fucking Rolodex. I need an army. Most of the escort services around here don’t have that kind of manpower.”
“How many…exactly?” Ryan asked, pulling out his black book and opening it slowly.
“I’m thinking thirty would be a nice number.” Mickey raised a hand in clarification. “These investors are very influential. I need girls that make a man’s dick stand to attention as soon as they walk in the room. No fatties. No stretch marks. No princesses. Okay. I need fun girls who do it all without question. I need dancers who can command a room. And I don’t need any of them quoting prices before they seal the deal. That’s why I’m here. I want to arrange with you to cover the whole bill now. You know, keep it classy.”
Mickey finally had Ryan’s full attention. “Thirty of my girls won’t come cheap. As you say, these specialty acts are expensive.” He looked at his long list of girls, thinking of quite a few that would be perfect for Klenchvenko’s party. This could be a new market for him, if he played his cards right.
“Throw me a number,” Mickey said arrogantly.
“How many hours?”
“Ten at night until ten in the morning. So, twelve. I’m sure my guys will want to take the merchandise away from the party and play with it for the night. You can pick them up after.”
Ryan rolled his neck and threw out a number. “180.” He threaded his fingers together and pressed his thumbs against each other.
“Thousand?” Mickey asked, brow furrowing. It was a bit steeper than he had expected. “That’s a bit expensive.”
Ryan was a great salesman, and he knew when it was time to apply a little pressure. “It’s normally a thousand an hour, but I’m cutting you a break. I’ll only charge you half because you’re buying in bulk, and I want your future business.” He stood up and walked over to sit in the chair beside Mickey, now that he knew the man was serious. “My girls are very skilled and very beautiful. They rival anything you can find in Miami. The thing that makes them worth it is that nothing is off the table. They’ve done it all and seen it all. If one of your gentlemen want to choke one my girls until she’s nearly dead and while he’s fucking her up the ass, the only thing she’ll say after is thank you. If someone wants to piss in a glass and have her drink it, the only thing she’s going to say after is thank you. If…”
“I get it.” Mickey pushed out a breath. This fucking guy. “When I said specialty, I was thinking more along the lines of role playing, threesomes and piggyback rides. But whatever.” He pulled out his wallet and fished out an American Express Centurion card. “Bill me for the entertainment. Invoice it as Go-Go dancers or some shit. Whores won’t really go over well with the accounting department.”
“I’ll do it myself. Wait here.” Ryan stood up and walked back over to his desk to pull out his card reader.
Mickey picked his glass back up, happy to mark one more thing off his list. “One thing though. Klenchvenko can’t know about it. He likes girls, sure, but he’s a boy scout. If he finds out we brought in pros, he’ll lose his shit.”
Ryan picked up the phone to call in authorization on the card, but paused to give his full attention to Mickey. “The arrangement won’t be uttered outside of this room,” he assured.
“Oh, and some of my guys really like the Russian blonde type. You got any of them? They’ll probably play well with Igor being a Russian himself.”
Ryan had several girls fitting that description. “I have quite a few Russian girls who are beautiful, fresh off the boat and ready to party. When we’re done here, I’m going to send you a link for an app to download. I’ll give you the password as soon as I’m done processing your order. What you’ll need to do is go through the app and pick the thirty girls you want.”
“Wait. You’re telling me you have an app for your girls?”
“I try to make things very easy for my clients. But you will need this password and it changes every day, so once you pick them, you won’t be able to go back in and access the app unless you contact me.”
“That’s pretty high tech,” Mickey said, impressed. This guy had his shit together.
Ryan picked up the phone and dialed American Express. “We do what we can. Now, if you’ll excuse me for just a second, I’ll get you processed and on your way.”
Chapter Fourteen
Open Up!
“I s this real?” Anatoly couldn’t believe his eyes. Looking around, he pushed a breath out of his mouth and watched the mist in the air. What in the hell? He was back in Kapotnya standing in the very courtyard that had started him on his journey in life; only now he was a grown ass man, relieved of youthful innocence and second guesses. Finally, another chance.
The snow crunched under his boots as he moved toward the rusty swing set, eyes trained on his pre-adolescent sister. He could hear the squeaking of the metal against metal and his heart beating in his chest. Oddly, she was still the same girl he had left, but the eyes were different. Somehow, they were darker, filled with pain and anguish. Without a word, she spoke to him, begging for his help and protection.
“I’m coming,” he whispered.
Moving in slow motion, he pulled the gun from his jacket and pointed it, feeling the same incessant anger, he had felt the day he was forced from his family, only this time the playing field was leveled more; the pedophile was armed as well.
“I’ll kill you a thousand times if I have to!” Anatoly yelled.
The man had already pulled his weapon. While Anatoly was moving in slow motion, he seemed to be moving faster. A grin was on the man’s thin lips like he had already won before they could even begin to play the game. As Anatoly pulled his trigger, expecting to very possibly be shot himself, he saw the bullet exit the pedophile’s gun. However, the gun wasn’t aiming at him. No! God, no! The back of Anastaysia’s little head exploded, and she fell forward out of the swing into the white snow.
“Anastaysia!” Anatoly screamed in a broken voice. Tears ran down the side of his face and his heart nearly stopped.
Covered in sweat, Anatoly’s brilliant blue eyes flashed open to see the wall across from the bed. Face still wet from the tears, he panted, hands still in balled fists. He swallowed hard, his dry throat restricting around thick saliva. Dehydration from too much alcohol and not enough water, made it hard to pull in his ragged breaths.
Rolling over in bed naked and glistening, he realized that he was back at his home in Miami, a million miles from Kapotnya and his sister. He pushed his head into the pillow and sighed. That shit felt so real.
Propping up his finely muscled right leg that adorned a Russian star on his knee cap, he ran a hand through his long, matted blonde locks, wet from sweating in his sleep, and glanced over at Renee. Her pouty lips had long since been free of the gloss. He had sucked it off the night before.
Thank God, his personal terror had not awakened her from her peaceful slumber. Had she been awakened by his fretting, she would have questioned him like the fucking Gestapo. But it hadn’t. And now, she was resting uninterrupted beside him, completely naked except for her nude heels and wrists still tied by the denim belt on her dress from the night before. Her long hair spilled over the pillow and her legs were curled
into the fetal position. So sexy.
Damn. She always looked so pleasant when she slept, like there wasn’t a care in the world. He could watch her for hours as she was now. Something about it was therapeutic for him, but as he looked at her in this moment, all he felt was profound urgency. It didn’t matter if it cost him his life, he could never allow her to befall the horrors that his sister and so many in their family had experienced. Renee was special and fragile. She couldn’t handle the bad things in life, that’s why he had to protect her.
His sister’s face crossed his mind briefly.
It was impossible to fall asleep again after a nightmare like that. What was wrong with him? Stealthily, he pulled the end of the belt until it unwrapped from his wife’s wrists and then pulled the sheet over her exposed brown temple. Just in case his daughter came sneaking into the room, he didn’t want her to see Mommy in such a compromised position. That was for Daddy to enjoy.
Last night had been all Renee promised. When they got home after dinner and a movie, and she saw that the bed had been replaced, Renee turned to him and dropped her dress. The invitation was unmistakable. He had done the rest. Slowly, he pulled down her panties, ran his tongue over her mound and tasted the sweetness between her legs. On his knees, he had pleased her until she creamed in his mouth and then he put her on the bed, her thick round buttocks up in the air, and made sweet love to her until her whimpers mellowed into satisfied moans. He had finished faster than he wanted, but as long as she didn’t mind, neither did he. That was the beauty of marriage. There was always another opportunity to get it right.
The flashes of Renee’s body twisted in ecstasy revisited him now and a selfish part of him wanted to roll her over in the bed and take her again. You’re mine, he thought inwardly. He traced a finger over the side of her hip, unable to resist the need to touch her. Such soft skin. Renee was a testament to real beauty in every way. Curves. Stretch marks from carrying his child. Full heavy breasts. And that mouth…. While it was vicious when she was angry, it was so sweet when she was happy.
“Ana,” she said absently, shifting again.
Nestling in the bed, breasts fully exposed, he felt himself growing hard again as he watched her. His manhood started to swell, blood rushing to the large, veiny erect member while he laid beside her. Leaning over to her, he hissed a breath over her pebbled brown nipple and sucked it gently.
“Mmm,” Renee moaned.
He was about to run a hand between her legs and use his fingers to give her a good morning when a soft tap on the door stopped him. His eyes shot to the door, knowing exactly who it was.
With haste, he jumped out of bed, grabbed his jeans and slipped them on, then opened the door. He glanced down at his daughter, her mop of sandy curls wild atop her head and blue eyes wide after a long rest.
“Hello, Daddy,” she said with a warm smile.
“Hello, pumpkin,” Anatoly whispered, putting his finger over his lips. “Shh. Mommy is still sleeping.” He stepped out of the door and closed it. In one scoop, he picked her up and rubbed his nose on hers. “How did you sleep?
“Good,” she answered.
“Well,” he corrected. “You slept well.” English was his second language, but not hers. She needed to learn how to speak properly for the money he was paying the Montessori school she attended.
“I want to go swimming,” she said, ignoring his grammar correction. “You promised.” Her small pudgy fingers lingered on his neck.
“You’re right. Daddy did promise.” He ran his fingers through her hair and looked lovingly into her eyes. What a little negotiator she’ll be when she grows up. Anatoly had forgotten about his bargain. But it was a beautiful, bright morning, and he was a man of his word. “Go get your swimming suit from the dresser and put it on. It’s in your underwear drawer.” Renee had imposed a new rule of late. His daughter had to dress herself now as part of learning to grow up and be a big girl.
“Then we go?” she asked, cutting her eyes at him.
“Da, we can go, printsessa,” he assured. He sat her down on the floor and watched her run as fast as her little feet could take her, down the hall to her room. He nodded at the guard who sat outside of it, and then went back into his room to shower and put on a pair of trunks.
***
Well-rested, Renee rolled over in their new bed and realized Anatoly wasn’t there. Huh. She rose slowly, sheets falling down to reveal her brown areolas and rested her head against the headboard, feeling the stickiness between her thighs and the ache in her lower back.
Last night had been great – earth shattering, but waking up here, even in the new bed, sort of felt wrong again. She hated herself for her immature jealousy, but hated Destiny Palmer even more for the video she had given her years ago.
No matter what she did, Renee could not rid herself of the image of Anatoly screwing that detestable woman in the pool for everyone to see. Ugh! He was a bastard for recording it, and Destiny was a bigger bitch for delivering it. The both of them, in their own selfishness, had nearly destroyed her, and now for the greater good, she was just supposed to act like none of it had happened.
That was life. Men made the mistakes, and women were supposed to forgive them.
Anatoly had asked her a hundred times, since then, to come with him to Miami, and she had graciously declined each time, always having an excuse. However, after Big Momma passed, she didn’t want to be without him, so she had to come here and faced this place and all its old ghosts.
She knew that she couldn’t just stay in the bed all day, so she made herself get up and head to the bathroom to clean herself up.
After taking a quick shower and slipping on mismatched white socks, one of Anatoly’s never-used, tailored dress shirts, and putting her hair in a ponytail, she found the strength to start the day.
Yawning, she opened her bedroom door and looked toward her daughter’s room, but the bodyguard was no longer sitting in his chair, which meant Alexandria must have already awakened and was with her father.
Evidently, she was the last one up this morning, but it wasn’t a surprise. At this point in her pregnancy, she was always exhausted – nothing that a daily vitamin wouldn’t fix.
In a slow stroll, she headed down the hall to find her family. Hopefully, they hadn’t gone out into the city without her. She didn’t want to sit here all day with nothing to do.
The mansion looked even bigger in the daylight, and with the brilliant white walls and oversized bare windows, much brighter. Inching down the main staircase that led from the upstairs bedrooms to the grand living area, she followed the cheerful sound of her daughter giggling toward the kitchen.
Huge slabs of shiny white marble on the floor led to a marble-tiled walls and chic white furniture and appliances. A large vase filled with white lilies sat atop the bar along with her daughter’s dolls and the daily newspaper opened to the business section.
The television, mounted on the wall between four built-in ovens, was on a local news station. It caught Renee’s attention for a second. She stopped in her tracks.
“Hurricane Mallory looks like it could threaten the entire Miami-Dade area. The governor is monitoring the situation and preparing with FEMA representatives. Local officials are working on evacuation plans and will present at this evening’s town hall meeting,” a female reporter said, standing in front of the Biscayne Bay with her microphone. The wind blew at the young woman’s cotton yellow dress, showing off her exceptional legs. She grabbed the bottom of her dress with her free hand and continued. “This is the largest hurricane in over 100 years, already at a category five.”
Great. Renee hated storms of any type, but hurricanes scared the crap out of her, considering she had grown up in a city so far removed from such occurrences. Grabbing the remote, she turned the television up. “While it is currently lingering out in the Atlantic Ocean, the hurricane could possibly make landfall within the next week,” the reporter warned.
Well, that wasn’t good. The
last thing she wanted to do was get caught in Miami in the middle of a historic natural disaster. She leant against the bar, running her fingers over the marble and listening to the report when one of their bodyguards stepped into the kitchen from outside. He pulled off his shades and nodded toward her, opening the pantry to pull out a bag of dog food for Anatoly’s German Shepherds.
“Good morning,” Renee said absently, looking out of the window at Marat sitting by the pool in a chair, watching Anatoly and Alexandria play.
The sound of the dog food hitting the pail drowned out the television. “Good morning, Mrs. Medlov,” the guard answered in a deep Russian brogue. When he was finished, he folded down the bag and put it back in the pantry. “Can I get you something?” Alexandria laughed again in the background.
“No. Thank you. Looks like someone beat me to fixing breakfast.”
On the kitchen table, the chef had placed a large spread of bagels and lox, croissants, fruit, juice and coffee. Evidently, everyone had already eaten except her. She meandered over to the white marble-top kitchen table and picked up a banana.
“I’ll let the maid know that you’re up, so she can clean your room,” he said, avoiding eye contact with her, especially as she was half-dressed.
Renee didn’t care. After living with a house full of servants and bodyguards for years, she had learned to simply live life like they weren’t there. Curiously, she stepped out of the glass-plated doors onto the patio and covered her face from the bright mid-morning sun with a hand. She watched while Anatoly pulled her daughter across the crystal blue water of their infinity pool.
Anatoly's Retribution: Book One (The Medlov Men 5) Page 19
