Ruthless Stranger by Maggie Cole

31

Maksim

"Start Monday.We need this done immediately."

"Give me two weeks. We're in the middle of another project," Sam Clauster, the head of the company we hired to clean up the land, replies.

"I don't give a damn what you're currently working on. My brothers and I paid you a hefty fee to keep you on retainer with the agreement you would drop whatever you were doing and get our project done. We're on a timeline, and we don't have a second to waste."

"I have four other projects. They will all take a backseat to yours. But it is customary to allow us to finish our current commitment."

My blood boils. I struggle to keep my voice stern and low. "You committed to the Ivanovs when you took our nonrefundable ten percent payment. We already discussed how this would work and put it in writing. You will fulfill your requirement."

"Don't be stubborn, Maksim. You understand how stopping in the middle of a project causes issues," he whines.

I run my hand through my hair and step in front of the glass. The waves from Lake Michigan are higher than normal. Whitecaps cover the water as far as my eye can see. "You will honor our contract. If you are not on our job Monday morning, there will be legal ramifications."

"Maksim—"

"Sam, how many deals have you done not only with Ivanovs but the Russian community?"

He sighs heavily. "I don't know."

"Too many to count. I highly suggest you remember who you're dealing with. We need our land cleaned so our men can keep working. If you do not fulfill your obligation as agreed upon, it won't only be the court you'll have to deal with. I'll make sure you never touch another Russian job in all of Illinois. Are we clear?"

"You don't need to be a bastard, Maksim."

"I'll see you bright and early on Monday." I hang up the phone.

Boris steps next to me. "I told you he would try to skate around the deal we made."

"He'll be there."

"How long did he say?" Sergey asks.

"Two weeks."

Boris snorts. "Two weeks out of work for our men, and Zamir will sink his fingers into them quicker than ever. Even if we keep them on payroll, the fear of not having work will drive them to listen."

I turn to my brothers. "You and Sergey go back to all the job sites this week. Inform everyone the project is moving forward, and the cleanup has started. There will be no layoffs, and remind them this next project will keep all of them busy for at least two years."

"What about the weather?" Dmitri asks.

"What about it?"

"If it snows, we're screwed. The ground can't be frozen."

"Sam gave us a three-week turnaround time when we did our due diligence. He's always been reliable on estimates. This next week's weather is supposed to be over forty, including nighttime. Let's hope we get an early spring and it stays that way."

"And if it doesn't?" Boris's eyes grow darker.

"We'll figure it out."

He shakes his head. "This is cutting it too close."

"What other options do we have besides moving forward?"

"At this point, nothing."

Sergey crosses his arms. "What if we do?"

"What are you talking about?"

"Hear me out."

"We're all ears," Dmitri states.

"We've relocated all the residents on the northern lot. Let's have Sam start there. Then we can begin construction while he's cleaning up the rest. Our guys stay working with no issues."

"Except we have the ninety-day stipulation with the city."

Sergey cockily smiles. "We only have to start the process. It doesn't say we have to finish it."

"Maksim, get out the contract," Dmitri says.

I go to my desk and pull out the file. I reread the section about the contingency.

"Well?" Dmitri asks.

"Sergey is correct. It clearly states we need to commence the cleanup. It says nothing about when we have to finish it."

"The cleanup on the northern lot was estimated only to take five days, correct?"

"Yes."

"So start the cleanup on the old city lot on Monday. Let's demolish the buildings on the northern land and then we'll pause the cleanup and have Sam move to the other lot if it's going to take longer than anticipated."

I rise and pat Sergey on the back. "Little brother, I think you might have just saved our asses."

Sergey holds his hand out to Boris.

Boris grunts, pulls his wallet out, and slaps a thousand dollars in Sergey's hand.

"What's that all about?" Dmitri asks.

"I bet him I could solve our problems today."

"I should've known. How long have you been sitting on this idea?" Boris asks.

Sergey taps his head. "Shower ideas."

"Well, you should shower more often, then. Good job."

"Maksim?" Aspen yells.

"In the office," I reply.

Aspen steps through the door and pauses. "Oh. Sorry. I don't mean to interrupt."

"You aren't. I'm glad you're back. Sergey just had a great idea to save our butts." I walk over to her and give her a quick kiss.

"Guess we both have good news, then."

"Oh?" I ask.

She bites her lip, trying to hide her smile, but she's unsuccessful. It grows until it can't get any bigger.

"What's going on, my krasotka?"

"Ummm...go ahead and tell me your news."

"No. You first."

She blushes. "I had something strange, but good, happen today at work."

"What's that?"

"I got called into my boss's office. The way he was talking, I thought I was getting laid off or something. But then he said the mayor was impressed with my performance and problem-solving skills and well... I got a huge promotion."

"You did?"

"Yes! You're looking at the newest Senior Planner!" She beams, and my heart soars.

I pick her up and lift her off the ground. "Congratulations. Much deserved."

My brothers all cheer in congratulations.

When I set her down, she turns a deeper shade of red, opens her mouth, then closes it.

"What is it, my krasotka?"

"My salary..."

"What about it?" I growl.

She better not be getting a penny less than their top paid planner.

Her eyes turn brighter. "My salary tripled."

I hold her cheeks and kiss her while my brothers shout some more. "I'm so happy for you. And very proud."

My brothers all come over and hug her then leave.

"Come with me. I need you for a minute." I guide her to my desk and set her on top of it. I put both hands on the desk next to her hips.

"Is everything okay?" She raises her eyebrows.

I lean into her ear and suck on her lobe. "I'm a starving man, my krasotka." I slide my hand under her dress, remove her panties, then glide my hands up the inside of her thighs.

She takes a deep breath and shudders.

I take my arm and shove the coaster, papers, and leather pad off my desk. They crash onto the floor.

My krasotka's eyes light with fire. I kiss her, moving her until she's on her back. I put my hands under her knees and pull them up until her feet are resting on the desk.

She reaches for my belt, releases it and my zipper, then palms my growing erection.

"I'm taking you out tonight to celebrate, Ms. Senior Planner." My impatience for her comes racing at me. I grip the top of her dress with both hands, rip it, then remove my knife from my pocket. "Stay still." I slide it through the cleavage of her bra, and she gasps.

I toss the knife on the floor then take her breast in my mouth and move my hand to her wet sex, rolling my tongue on her puckered nipple and finger on her clit.

Her eyes flutter, her moans get louder, and her hand strokes my cock faster.

I suck her breast harder and make her climax on my finger. She arches off the desk, crying out my name.

She begs, "Fuck me. Oh God, please!"

I fuck her hard but not with my cock. I drop to my knees and aggressively manipulate every part of her throbbing pussy until her juices and sweat are dripping on my desk, and her body is writhing so intensely she's screaming.

It only encourages me to make her orgasm over and over until her voice is hoarse. I'm not full. I'm never going to be satiated.

When my erection is on fire, pulsing to be in her, I rise, grab her hips, and pull her ass to the edge of the desk. I thrust into her, going as deep as I can in one movement.

Her gorgeous mouth forms an O. She laces one hand in my hair and the other over my ass, desperately pushing it and panting. Her tongue glides into my mouth, flicking fast, stoking the fire burning in my veins.

I groan.

"Maks...oh..." she moans, her eyes fluttering, face flushed, and body covered in sweat.

"God, you're sexy," I murmur to her in Russian then repeat it in English.

She clings to me tighter, shaking, and crying out in ecstasy.

I greedily steal her breath, sticking my tongue back into her mouth while detonating inside her, taking her climax higher.

Endorphins explode within me. I collapse against her, breathing hard, then I tuck a lock of hair behind her ear. I roll over on the desk then straddle her over me.

She kisses me, leaving no question how much she loves or wants me. She's the only woman who ever made me feel so alive.

And I need every breath of life she gives me. I mumble against her lips, "Move in with me."

She freezes and locks eyes with me.

My stomach twists.

Is she going to say no?

"Don't even go back to your place. I'll send movers and tomorrow have all your things here. Redesign whatever you want, I don't care, just stay here. With me."

She stays silent, staring at me.

My blood beats between my ears, pounding harder and harder until I feel dizzy. "My kras—"

"Yes."

"Yes?"

She nods. "Yes. I'll move in. But I'll meet with the movers. There aren't a lot of things I want if I'm living here."

I kiss her, and she pulls back. "What's wrong?"

She hesitates.

"Tell me what you want, my krasotka."

She takes a deep breath and nods. "Okay. There are two things I want."

"What?"

"A new couch. It can be the same one. I like the style. But I want one she wasn't on."

She meaning Jade.

"The couch will be replaced. What else do you want?"

"A new mattress and bedding. It can all be the same brand. I don't care about that. But I hated sleeping in the bed Peter and I had together. And ever since the night she came over, I think about her rolling around under your sheets with you."

"I'm sorry—"

She puts her finger over my lips. "It's not your fault. But you asked what I wanted."

"I have an idea."

"What?"

"Why don't you meet with Anna and redesign everything?"

"I don't need that. It's only those two things."

I stroke her cheek. "Let's start our life fresh. You. Me. Nothing else with memories of anyone else. Put your flair on the place."

She bites her lip and tilts her head.

"You don't like my idea?"

She smiles. "No, I do. But it's going to cost a fortune. Your place is huge."

I shrug. "It's not a big deal. Do you want to talk to Anna or go solo on it? I'll admit whatever you say you want, I'll agree to, so you can't depend on my design help."

She softly laughs. "Fair enough. I'd love to work with Anna."

"Good. It's settled, then. I'll call the movers and Anna."

"Just like that, huh?" she teases.

"I'm a man who makes things happen," I boast.

"Yes, you are."

I kiss her and squeeze her ass. "Let's shower and get ready. I'm taking you out to celebrate your promotion tonight."

We leave the office and get to the main room when the buzzer blasts through the air. I hit the button. "Yes?"

"Delivery. Should I bring it up?"

"Yes."

I meet one of the staff guys at the elevator. "Here you go, Mr. Ivanov." He hands me an expensive-looking black box.

"Thanks, Pete."

I take the box and set it on the counter. Ms. Aspen Albright is written on the card's envelope. I hand it to her.

Aspen scrunches her forehead. "Who would send me something here?"

"What about your friends? Did you tell them about your promotion?"

"I did send them a group text." She pulls out the paper, and the color drains from her face.

"What is it?"

She hands it to me.

My beast awakens as I read the card:

Aspen,

Thinking of you.

Wes

I crumplethe note in my hand, trying to contain my rage.

I'll kill him.

Before I can tell Aspen not to open it, she lifts the lid. Everything happens fast.

A huge rattlesnake lurches out of the box. It bites her bicep and she screams in pain.

I grab it around the neck, reach for a butcher knife, and slice its neck. I drop the remains in the box.

Aspen holds her arm, crouching on the floor, crying.

"My krasotka!"

"It hurts...it..." She grabs her throat, and saliva starts seeping out of her mouth. Her skin breaks out in a sweat. She gasps for breath, and her eyes roll.

"Krasotka!" My heart races. I pick her up and run to the office to find my cell. When I get to it, she's convulsing. I call the front desk and tell them to send the medical team up and to send 9-1-1 for backup.

As I wait, I've never been more scared. She lays lifeless in my arms. Her arm is swelling. I'm worried about the poison going into her heart.

It feels like time moves slowly. The medical team comes in with Adrian. They demand I release her. Adrian pulls me off her. She passes out.

On the way to the hospital, I stare at her on the stretcher, with tubes hooked up to her. I barely comprehend what the EMT is saying. The sirens for the ambulance are loud, but drowning it out is my inner beast repeating, "I'm going to tear Wes Petrov apart."

And then there's the part of me trying to hold it together that keeps saying, "Please don't die, my krasotka."