Mr. Billionaire, Care to Make an Heir?

5

“Where to now, boss?” Andrei asks, falling in step beside me.

“I want to see how the construction is going on the two strip clubs, and there’s one other dealer we need to introduce ourselves to.”

He gives a tight nod and unlocks the door for me. By the time we’re finished for the night, I’m exhausted but feeling confident that this city is going to make me a ton of money. The other dealer we met with cared a lot more for his life than Nate had and was eager to accept the terms of our arrangement, and the two clubs are almost finished and the men I put in charge of it are already interviewing for dancers. Everything is going to plan. Ilya and Andrei head out to a club with some of the other guys while I fix myself a drink and walk with Ruslan to the back deck. Sitting in one of the patio chairs, I listen to the ocean and close my eyes, feeling the jet lag hit me hard. Ruslan rests his large head on my thigh, and I pet him while I try to not fall asleep.

Eventually I drag my ass to bed, sleeping through the night until the early morning sun hits my face because I forgot to close the curtains. After brushing my teeth, I throw on some workout shorts and walk down the hall to the room that’s already set up as a gym. I hit the weights and finish off with a run on the treadmill. The ocean view is mesmerizing and I wonder if I’ll ever get used to it. When I finish my workout, I’m dripping sweat and thirsty. Grabbing a towel, I dry myself off and head downstairs to grab some water. I’ve just pulled a bottle out of the fridge when a blonde woman walks in wearing nothing but a tiny T-shirt and a thong. Her eyes run over me before her full lips spread into a grin.

“How many men live here?” she asks with a soft laugh.

When I ignore her, she steps closer and points a finger at the large bear tattoo that covers my chest. “What’s with all the bear tattoos?”

I take another drink of water. She’s either completely incapable of reading a room, or she’s the type of woman who refuses to believe a man might not be interested. I’m guessing it’s the latter. When she reaches a hand out, I swat it away.

“Hey, I’m just trying to be friendly,” she says, giving me what I’m guessing she thinks is a pretty sexy pout.

“We’re not friends, and I’m not interested in sloppy seconds.”

Before she can get pissed, Ilya comes running in. “Hey,” he says, and then after several seconds adds, “you,” making it painfully obvious that he’s forgotten the girl’s name. “I told you I’d grab whatever you needed.”

“Please tell me she’s not planning on staying here all f*****g day,” I tell him in Russian.

“Yeah, I was kind of hoping she’d leave last night, but no such luck. I might have to enact some tough love.”

“Do it quickly. She’s clingy, Ilya. You need to choose more carefully.”

“They’re all clingy after they get a taste of my c**k,” he shrugs at the heavy burden of his apparently magical d**k and then reaches down to pick her up. She gives an over-the-top squeal as he carries her back to the room. “One more f**k and then I’ll send her on her way,” he promises over his shoulder.

I shake my head and go take a shower. When I get back downstairs, I’m thrilled to see that clingy blonde and whoever the hell Andrei brought back are both gone. The men are sitting at the island, smiling at Katya who’s busy preparing them each on omelet.

“Hey, Katya,” I tell her, taking the cup of coffee she offers me. “Did you and Svetlana get in okay?”

“Yes, Mr. Medvedev, and the apartment over the garage is beautiful.”

“I’m glad you like it.” I squeeze her shoulder before taking one of the empty barstools. No matter how many times I tell her she can call me Vasily, or even Vasya, the diminutive of my name, she refuses to do it, insisting that it would be improper.

Svetlana is the exact opposite. She comes walking in with a clothes hamper in her hands, giving me a big grin.

“Hey, Vasya. This place is crazy,” she says, an excited grin lighting up her face as she looks out at the ocean view.

“It’s Mr. Medvedev,” Katya reminds her daughter, pointing the spatula at her.

Svetlana rolls her eyes at me. “This place is beautiful, Mr. Medvedev.” She exaggerates my name and then turns to her mom. “We did hang out in diapers together.”

“He’s still your boss.”

Svetlana sighs and cuts a quick look to Andrei. I notice the way her cheeks blush when he meets her gaze, making me think I’ve solved the mystery of who warmed his bed last night. I lift a brow at him so he knows I know what the f**k is going on, but I don’t say anything in front of Katya. If she has a problem with her daughter calling me by my first name, then I’m guessing she’ll have a really big problem with her daughter sleeping with one of my top men.

While I’m eating breakfast I get a text from Colin, asking me if I’d like to meet for lunch. I tell him to text me the address and then pull it up on my phone. He’s picked a restaurant that’s in neutral territory, and four hours later I’m pulling up to the entrance and handing the keys to my new Porsche to the valet. Buttoning my suit jacket, I tell the hostess who I’m meeting and then follow her to a table in the corner that overlooks one of the busy downtown streets.

“Vasily,” Colin says, standing and offering me his hand. “It’s good to see you again.”

I shake his hand and sit down, ordering a vodka when the waitress comes over. Colin looks much the same as the last time I saw him. He’s in his mid-forties, but he’s kept himself trim and aside from a few lines around his eyes, he could easily pass for younger.

“So how’s the Devil from Moscow enjoying life in America so far?”

I laugh at the nickname and nod a thanks to the waitress when she brings me my drink. “So far I like it. The ocean is beautiful. My men and I introduced ourselves to a few people last night, and I think we’ve come to an agreement about things.”

Colin smiles, but before he can respond, the waitress hands us a couple of menus. We place our order, and when she’s far enough away, he asks, “So what are your plans?”