Chapter 10 –

The morning after, Camille was resting her head on Vladimir's chest. She was hearing his heart beat underneath as she watched the shadows drawn by the rays of sunlight that filtered through the shutters of his bedroom. They were both awake, reluctant to get out of bed.

"Do you own a brothel?" she asked, drawing mickey mouses on his abs absentmindedly. He snorted, muttered something in Russian. Yes, she would pester him before they even got coffee.

"Several, actually. And they are called massage parlors now."

"Do you, like, manage them yourself?" This time, he groaned. Before turning her on her back and positioning himself on top of her, his face on her neck. She ran a distracted hand in his hair, playing with the messy strands.

"No. Anatoly does. When you have to handle clients, and employees, you have to be… conciliant. Plus, he likes to sample the merchandise. I take care of the guns and the drugs."

She snorted at that. She guessed it was true enough. Vladimir and his bad temper could only suffer so much bad faith, clients or not.

"Is there anyone above you in the Russian Mafia? How does it work?" she kept asking despite his tong on her skin. A groan, louder this time, answered her pestering. His hand went to cover her mouth.

"Enough with twenty questions, woman." He ordered. She could feel a playful smirk on his lips.

She bit his palm. That got her a string of Russian expletives.

"You are an animal." He commented, raising himself a little to lick his own hand. Weirdly enough, the lust in his eyes shone even brighter. She tried to run, giggling as he grabbed her by the waist and pinned her under his weight.

"You're heavy!" She complained playfully. She wasn't a small girl weighting nothing. She was tall and athletic. He actually lacked a hundred pound to make her choke under his weight. But still it was the principle of the thing and she wiggled underneath him to try to break free. That is, until she felt his erection against her. Then, she calmed down. "Get in or get off me, you goddamned tease…" She dared him. And in he went. She muffled a moan on his shoulder, her legs already getting around his hips.

That was when a hand knocked against the bedroom door. Camille jumped, screamed bloody murder and grabbed a bundle of sheets. Vladimir went straight for the gun on his nightstand and turn around. What little sheet Camille had left rested on his hips as he stilled, ready to fire.

"I knocked." Anatoly defended himself, hands raised in the air.

There he stood, right in the middle of the doorway, the same devilish smirk she knew too well on another's face spreading on his. The other man in question was about to blow a fuse. Despite the fact that he had recognized his brother by now, he was still pointing the gun at him. Camille wouldn't put it past him to actually shoot the intruder, brotherly love be damned.

"People knocks on the front door." Vladimir replied, teeth clenched. Camille just watched, holding onto her sheets for dear life.

"I did. And I even tried to call you. You were supposed to meet me an hour ago."

"Not for business." Her lover bit back. Obviously, Anatoly knew what he was going to find and came on purpose, without any real good reason. Except wanting to get shot. That made her find her voice again.

"Excuse-me," she cut, none too gently, what was about to turn into brotherly bickering. She did enough of this with her own sister to know. "Do you mind?" She held the gaze of Vladimir and then, in turn, Anatoly's. She was naked here, for fuck's sake. She didn't mind going back home to let them talk about whatever they needed to but could someone please let her get her bloody clothes on first?

Vladimir put the gun back in his nightstand and stood up, unbothered to be butt naked, or still half-hard, apparently. He made a show of walking around the bed to bend down and grab his sweatpants, forcing Anatoly to choose between watching the ceiling or watching his ass and balls. He chose the ceiling with a wince. Camille held back a laugh. Now, Vladimir was just childish.

Once clothed, at least with pants, he bent down toward her and kissed her forehead.

"Stay." He asked. "I won't be long." A mean look at his brother got the message across. Anatoly got it. And, in a typical sibling fashion, ignored it.

"Are you hungry, Camille?" He asked, smile unwavering in the face of his brother's bad mood. She nodded, wondering where this was going. "Good! I brought breakfast. Meet us in the kitchen when you're ready?"

He didn't wait for an answer, sliding an arm around his brother's shoulder, telling him he probably lacked vitamins to be in such a foul mood on mornings.

Camille watched them go and realized her top was in the kitchen… Her bra was in the living room…

Shit!

Of course. It just had to be that way, hadn't it? Steeling herself for some saucy jokes from Anatoly, she borrowed one of Vladimir's shirt from his wardrobe, slid her jeans shorts on her legs and got out.

Contrary to a cotton tee, a shirt hid her breasts better. Plus, she could hug herself in it and feel sexy. Any girl would have taken the opportunity to steal her boy's shirt. It was a classic. A classic she happened to like. She rolled the black sleeves up to her elbow and off to the kitchen she went.

The brothers were having a staring match, Anatoly eating a croissant with a satisfied, overconfident smile, Vladimir glaring daggers at him, refusing to eat anything. Camille shrugged and grabbed a croissant too. Three cups of coffee were on the table, confirming that Anatoly knew exactly what his brother would be doing this morning when he came. She shook her head at their antics. Honestly, she wasn't mad. She couldn't be. She imagined this would be exactly what she would do to her sister given the opportunity.

Vladimir was frozen in grumpy frown as he sat on the other side of the kitchen's counter from his brother. She still slid a hand against his neck and kissed his cheek, the unhurt one, before taking a seat by his side. The action didn't go unnoticed by Anatoly who didn't manage to hide his surprise completely. She saw. Because she had done it on purpose. Yes, she was allowed to treat Vladimir like a normal man, kissing his cheek in the morning, without him telling her to fuck off.

The latter was so focused on his brother that she wasn't even sure he noticed anyway. It still counted.

Anatoly got over his surprise fast.

"I think we never had been properly introduced, Camille. I'm Anatoly Ranskahov. Nice to meet you."

Not sure where this was going, but polite, Camille started to reply the usual: "Nice to meet-"

"What do you want?" Vladimir interrupted, decidedly in a foul mood. Note to herself, never deprive him of morning sex when she'd want to ask him for something...

Anatoly just burst out laughing.

"Well, as Lovely Camille must know by now, I was against this." He waved a hand between the two of them. The two lovers shared a look before getting back to him. "But since there is no talking sense into Volodya's thick skull I thought I might as well get to know you, sweetheart."

"Now, you know her." Vladimir replied, his voice sharp. "Get out."

At this Camille burst out laughing.

"Oh, come on!" She exclaimed. "The man brought breakfast. Might as well enjoy it." She took Vladimir's hand, her voice softer now. "Eat something, at least."

As she had hoped, her lover relented, taking a croissant he started to chew on reluctantly. Anatoly watched with wide eyes. And Camille watched him. When he realized it, he stared back. She hadn't forgotten, or forgiven him, about the whores. Now that she had decided that she would try to build something here, she was set on getting the message across. They were just at the beginning of whatever they had here. But they had something. Something more than just sex. She was the first surprised by it – she had only seen him a few times after all – but now that it was here, Anatoly would have to deal with it.

Eventually, he smirked at her.

"I see why Vovotchka likes you." He muttered. "Okay then, do you want to know something embarrassing about him?" His smirk was so much like Vladimir's it was troubling. She didn't have time to react to his offer though, his brother was already saying something nasty in Russian. She didn't know what, obviously, but his eyes spoke for him.

After some begging Vladimir to be nicer – a massage of his shoulders had to be used – they started to have a somewhat normal breakfast. Well, as normal as it could be with two mobsters. They talked about things that didn't really matter, ate croissants and drank coffee. Anatoly, despite all the reserves she had about him, turned out to be as Vladimir as described him: a softer, more conciliant version of him. All in all, it was nice.

Until Anatoly grew serious again.

"I'm sorry, sweetheart, but I'm gonna need to talk to my brother about business."

Once again, she was put to the test. If she made a fuss, she'd prove Anatoly right: women were more trouble than they're worth. So, she nodded instead and stood up.

"I'm gonna get a shower. I need to go back to my place anyway. I'm working tonight."

"See you tonight, then." Anatoly replied as Vladimir kissed the inside of her wrist in thanks when she got closer to him. That gave her pause.

"You're coming to the bar?" She asked, trying not to sound hopeful. Or anxious. She was both. It could be good or bad, depending on the reason they were coming for.

Anatoly smiled. "Yeah. You'd get the private space ready for us, love?"

"Sure."

Another meeting then. She nodded and, after one last kiss on Vladimir's cheek, she went for the shower. As she came out, she heard voices from the kitchen. Anatoly's first.

"So, Camille, you like her, right?"

She stopped. And hid behind a wall. Yes, she was spying. Sue her.

"What business is that of yours, brother?" Vladimir replied, sounding defensive.

"Apart from the fact that if you do, she is a liability? Apart from the fact that you might get distracted by her? That she can be used against us, right when we are about to start tricky business?" He marked a pause.

Vladimir didn't say anything but she could imagine his clenched jaw. Anatoly was right. Even she could tell. If people heard about her, what's stopping them from using her against the Ranskahovs? Feelings aside – because those were still blurry on both sides and she suspected that just like her, he hadn't really stopped to think about it, and wasn't planning on doing so anytime soon – Vladimir's pride wouldn't allow anyone to harm her. It turned out Anatoly was thinking along the same lines.

"Apart from all that, I'm your brother and I love you. I'm worried about you, about this, because if someone were to hurt her, your feelings, " Vladimir grunted, "or your pride, both probably, would make you burn this city to the ground to prove that nobody can touch your things and not pay the price. And that, brother, makes you predictable. Being predictable means being weak. You said so yourself, before. I don't want to see you die for a chick."

Camille wondered if maybe, Anatoly had planned on her overhearing this. Afterall, why was he speaking in English if not? The man was smart and he was right but...

"Camille is a smart girl." Vladimir answered. "She will be careful with what she says to people. And, brother, let me ask you this: What's the point of being the Russian Mafia's kings if we can't even manage to protect one girl from our enemies? Are we really that weak?" The last word was spat like an insult.

"Whatever." Anatoly replied. "If you like your leash so much, stay that way. But don't hold it against me when I'll say "I told you so" someday."

"I am not leashed." Vladimir countered. His brother snorted.

"Say whatever you want to yourself, Volodya. I've known you my whole life. This? Letting her kiss your cheek at breakfast like a wanker before he gets to his office job? You're whipped and you know it!"

At this, Anatoly burst out laughing. She could still hear Vladimir cursing in Russian underneath it, thought. She plastered an innocent smile on her face and went back to the kitchen.

"I'm off." She announced. "See you tonight."

Anatoly waved her goodbye. Vladimir stood up and followed her to the front door. There, he kissed her, with far more heat than a simple good bye kiss should warrant. She held back a moan.

"Vladimir, what the fu..?" She started, before he whispered:

"Will you come and sleep here tonight?" He asked in a husky whisper.

She nodded. Good thing about dating a mobster when you worked night shifts? He didn't mind that she ended her work at dawn. She kissed his cheek and went home.

She was on time for work. Alexei was already here. Jessica too. There were few clients tonight. Things were going to be quiet. She tied her apron around her waist and headed for the private space. As she went back, both man and woman arched an eyebrow at her. She shrugged.

"Anatoly and Vladimir are coming tonight. They asked for the private space." She explained.

"And how do you know this?" Jessica asked, suspicious. Alex didn't comment. He simply went back to his office, telling them to call him if they needed anything.

"You know how, Jess." She agreed with the Ranskahovs: they had to be discreet. However, Jess had witnessed most of their first interactions. There was no helping it. But maybe setting things straight now might be better in the long run. Camille casted a look around to make sure no one was paying attention to them and that no patrons needed anything for now. "I spent a few nights at Vladimir's." She confessed. "I was there last night. I'll be back there tonight." Jessica opened her mouth, ready to rant, she'd bet. She stopped her. "Don't. I know what you think about this. And I appreciate your concern, really." She added, taking the woman's hand in her. "But I know what I'm getting myself into. And I want it. I want him."

She let the information sink in.

"I would appreciate your discretion, though. Not many people know. The fewer, the better."

Jessica said nothing for a while. Eventually, she found her voice.

"I won't say anything."

Things were tense after that. When the boys got in, the "four-eyed fuck" in tow, it got tenser. They didn't say anything when Camille went to serve them, both assuming that now the Ranskahovs were her clients only.

"Hello, everyone." She greeted the three in the private room. If discretion was important in general, she got that, with this man, it was key. Fancypants wasn't a friend. He didn't need to know he was the only one she hadn't already seen today.

"Hello, love." Anatoly played along. Vladimir nodded at her. Fancypants did the same.

"What can I get you?" she asked the stranger as she put the brothers' bottle of Zyr on the table with two glasses. "Wine again?"

"You have a good memory." He commented, smiling his polite, lofty smile. She grinded her teeth.

"Thanks."

"Wine will be good. A glass of that Riesling of yours?"

"Sure!"

She served him and got back to her work, preoccupied. They were probably negotiating the terms of their "collaboration". Asshole was working with people who kidnapped girls to do whatever sick thing they did with them...

An hour later, he was gone. Piotr came to sat at the counter not much later after that. She smiled at him. He smiled back, his blue eyes sparkling. She had a few favorite customers. He was one of them.

"Hi, Piotr. What can I get you tonight?"

"Hi, Cami. Vodka please. The cheaper you got." She did as ask, arching an eyebrow at him. He thanked her and shrugged. "Boss is being stingy this month." He joked.

"That so?" She had to held back a smile. Vladimir will end up handling a syndicate at this rate.

"Well, that and I bought a dog." He got his phone out of his pocket. A picture of his dog was on the screen. It was a baby golden retriever. She smiled warmly as she bent over to watch the picture.

"He is so cute!" she exclaimed. "What's his name?"

"He doesn't have one yet..." He unlocked his phone and showed her some videos of the poor dog trying to walk properly. "Any idea, girls?" He asked. Jessica laughed.

"Call him Alex!" She joked. The human Alex might have something to say about that...

"Why not Lucky? He might become your lucky charm, who knows?" Camille offered, smiling. The little ball of fur was adorable. "Will you bring him here sometimes?" She asked.

"You'd like that?" Piotr asked back.

"Sure! I know Alex loves dogs too. Don't bring him on Saturday nights though. Too many people, he'd get scared..."

"I will, then." Camille beamed at him. Until she saw Vladimir coming their way, a sour expression on his face. Her smile froze. Piotr casted a curious look at her. He was about to turn around to see what her face was about but a tattooed hand had already landed on his shoulder. Vladimir's eyes were shooting daggers at him.

"Vladimir..." Anatoly warned as he reached them. He ignored him.

"Don't you have deliveries to do tonight, Piotr?"

The boy nodded. Camille felt sorry for him. Vladimir was in a bad mood. She suspected it would be so every time he'd meet Fancypants...

"Pay the lady and go back to it." His boss ordered. Anatoly concurred with a nod of his head. Piotr did as he was told.

"See you, Cami." He said before scampering out. The girl had barely time to wave him goodbye that she felt Vladimir cold stare on her.

"What?" She asked him, ruefully. She heard Anatoly sighed as he sat on a stool.

"Would you pour me a glass of vodka, love?" He asked Jessica. Camille, for her part, was shooting daggers back at Vladimir.

"Come on, you two..." Anatoly tried, as quiet as he could while still being heard over the music.

"I'll see you tonight." Was Vladimir only reply before he turned heels and got out. She stuck her tongue at his back in payback. Oh yeah, he would see her alright. Anatoly snorted.

"Don't shoot him in the cock tonight. I need him tomorrow. Whole."

Camille laughed.

"I wouldn't shoot the most interesting part of him."

That got her a horrified look from Jessica and an appreciative one from Anatoly.

At the end of her shift, she swinged by her place to grab a clean uniform for the next day to bring at Vladimir's. She might have pretended she wasn't worried back in the bar, but she was. Tonight could go some many ways. He had been jealous. She had seen it. Jessica and Anatoly too. Jealous men were unpredictable in their stupidity. Then again, he might even throw her out.

She sighed as she hailed a cab. God had mercy on him if he acted like an ass...

As the elevator was going up to his apartment, she tried to take deep breathes. She was stressed, and pretty sure she was heading for a fight.

What she hadn't planned was that, barely seconds after she had rung his doorbell, his door flew open and a hand shot out to grab her wrist, pulling her harshly inside. She landed on his chest. He pressed her back against the door, so hard her breath caught in her throat. Before she could even react, his lips were on hers and two of his fingers were in her folds, her panties pushed aside. She winced a little at the sudden intrusion. Despite his anger, he might have realized he was hurting her for he removed one finger, the other still pushing inside her as far as it could go with such force she had to stand on her tiptoes every time he pushed up.

She could have pushed him away. She was sure that, even if he was mad, he would have stopped if she insisted. Truth was, she was kind of turned on by it. It might seem as he was assaulting her on the outside but little details proved his incapacity of doing so. Sure, he had her slammed against the door, one of his hands around her throat, but the way his fingers, back to being two, moved inside of her, waiting for her to be wet enough for what was to come next, the way his hand around her neck didn't squeeze but caressed her instead, was proof enough for her. She grabbed onto his shoulders and whimpered against his neck when he hoisted her up against him. She folded her legs around his hips and didn't even try to be silent when she felt his cock slid to the hilt inside of her.

He waited for her to adjust. She had her face hidden in his neck and she could feel his head turn toward her. When she was good, she nodded slightly. Then, he slammed into her. She whimpered. He did it again. She moaned. God, she needed more still.

"Faster." She begged. She could feel waves of pleasure in her but she needed more. Faster, harder.

He didn't need to be told twice. One grunt from him and she was slightly changed of position, orientating her in a different angle. Then, he obeyed. He slammed back into her so hard and so fast the door shook within its frame. Anyone out in the hallway would know what was happening. She didn't care. She was almost there. Almost. She just needed a little more.

"Vladimir." She begged again. She was so close. One of his hands slid from her ass to her lower belly. Now, she was really pinned between the door and his cock. She moaned again, holding onto him harder. Ready to beg some more, if need be, just for his hand to go lower as he kept moving. As if he had heard her thoughts, he froze. She wailed in frustration.

"Piotr's dog is cute, right?" He whispered nastily in her ear. Son of a bitch. Really? Now? She honestly could cry – or hit him – right now in her frustration.

"Vladimir, please." Now was not the time. They'd talk later if he wanted. She tried to hold his hips closer with her legs. She needed him to move.

"Say you're sorry." He whispered again against her ear. That stopped her short. She put her hands on his shoulders and draw her head back to face him.

"Over my dead body, you assho-" She was cut by a sharp movement of his hips, his cock still inside of her. She whimpered again.

"Come on, Camille. Say you're sorry." She wanted to slap away the smirk growing on his face. Instead, she frowned. He wanted to play it that way?

"I'm sorry his royal arseness is feeling threatened in his manhood by a fricking pup!" She said as fast as she could. She had been well inspired to do so as he was back to slamming as fast and hard as he could inside of her before she could say it all. Her arms got back around his neck, holding on for dear life. She was back to moan in extasy. But still, his hand was staying on her lower belly, going no lower. She tried to snake one of hers between them to take care of it herself. No such luck. He grabbed her wrist and pressed it against the door, above her head.

"Be a good girl." His voice was so self-satisfied – and he had stopped again! – that she took a fistful of his hair with her only free hand and pulled as retribution.

"Go fuck yourself." She muttered between clenched teeth. He laughed, a harsh thing that sent shivers of lust coursing through her body.

"I'm fucking you right now." He commented. Thanks, she was aware!

"And you're doing a piss-poor job of it." She grumbled, starting to feel very frustrated.

"I'm willing to compromise." He pretended to think and she arched an eyebrow. She wasn't going to apologize because Piotr liked her and she couldn't tell him she was banging his boss. "If you beg me." He smirked. She frowned. Then sighed. The rolled her eyes. He was lucky she had been that close to come before and was pretty sure that orgasm, when he will finally let her have it, will be one to remember.

"Vladimir Ranskahov, I hereby beg you to fuck me proper before I have to go and ask your brother." She said in mock solemnity.

He bent again toward her neck, changing the angle once more.

"Good enough, you minx."

She was about to reply but he finally – finally! – had gone back to slam into her while she held him, whimpering and moaning and screaming. His fingers went down at last to rub her clit. She focused on her breathing when she felt a first wave of pleasure, then another, stronger, and another and..

"Oh God, yes!" She slammed her head against the door, her body constricting almost painfully before she started spasming her release. His cock still inside her and moving – slower for now, waiting for her to be done – sent more jolts of pleasure, extending her orgasm for a few precious seconds. "Holy shit." She eventually whispered, her head resting on the door's wood, her eyes wide open. "Fuck."

A chuckle answered her dirty words. She was feeling like her heart was about to explode. Vladimir had put both hands back on her ass, as her legs were no use anymore, jelly-like as they were, and slammed back into her. She braced herself, regaining her grip on his neck. Now was his turn and she knew now to expect a wild ride.

As promised, he went in and out of her with such strength she was starting to worry they would end up laying down on the other side of the wall, the door under them. However, every man had his limit in terms of strength. He put her back down, turning her around before entering her again from behind. He grabbed her hips to steady her as he kept his assault.

God, she was starting to see stars. She bit on her hand in an attempt to muffle her scream of pleasure. Like this, he was hitting a special spot made even more sensitive after she came. She wasn't sure she could come twice but it felt nearly as good anyway. He pushed her hand out of her mouth not so kindly.

"I want to hear you scream."

He was downright feral now. Her whole body shivered. As he lost his rhythm and started to get erratic, she was moaning louder than ever. At last, he came in a half-whine half-groan. Once done, he let go of her hips and she fell in a heap on the floor, exhausted. He sat in front of her, also out of breath, his chest heaving and shinning with sweat. He leant back on his hands; his legs sprawled in front of him on each side of Camille. His balls touched the ground as his cock slowly softened. He was looking at the ceiling in despair.

"You're gonna be the death of me." He muttered, trying to catch back his breath. "I'm too old for this shit." She could see his arms trembling. Yeah, she wasn't weighting a hundred pound. And he was 34. She laughed at his expense.

"Need your cane, grandpa?"

The look he shot her would have frozen Hell over. She only laughed harder.