XV
The Maxim estate was lively. Kane grew grumpy; for he had nursed a mild hangover, courtesy of the empty bottle he had left upon his bedside table. Now, as he sat within a decorative chair, Vladimir and Dominic seated beside him, he watched the sumptuous socialites as they engaged in impersonal introductions and small-talk.
Harvey Maxim had been known for his opulence and prestigious repute. Having been the face of the swanky chain of international resorts and casinos, he and his father had done much of their illicit dealings together. Underneath these establishments hid further illegal operations; much of which involved red-light lounges and brothels.
Vladimir had been giddied at the prospect of the gala. As he gawked boyishly at a pair of posh women, Dominic nudged him brusquely; as he hadn't cared for such tactlessness.
Kane had chuckled into his drink: a flute of carbonated mineral water. The act had lightly amused him, though the sentiment was painfully short-lived in the event of Hugh and Claudia Maxim's arrival at their table.
"Mr. Romanov! How exciting to see that you're in attendance this evening."
Claudia was instantly at his side, begging for his attention as though she were a love-sick pup. Kane was repulsed at her affections, having slept with her within the coat-check closet two years prior during an alcohol-fueled escapade. He regretted the night deeply, having dealt with the Maxim daughter's burdock-like devotion then since. He brushed away her hand from him curtly, the principle of manners being of paltry concern.
Hugh handed him a shot of vodka and Kane accepted it wearily. He tipped back his drink and the eldest son of Harvey Maxim followed in prompt suit.
"Sister, perhaps these two gentlemen would also care for a drink," Hugh stated rather pleasantly, waving his emptied, crystal shot-glass towards Kane's right-hand men. "Would you fetch a cocktail waitress?"
Claudia departed politely, though her stare still lingered largely on Kane Romanov. She had huffed in frustration, her brother's choice to meddle in her romantic pursuit that of ill-taste.
Beside them, Dominic had informed Vladimir of the status of the former fling. The fair-haired Vlad had been chuffed, replying to the Kuznetsov man in their native language that 'all women become obsessed, following their introduction to Russian cock'.
Kane remained surly, the topic of the plain-looking socialite of little interest given his infatuation with the Stomsvik heiress. When the cocktail waitress appeared with Claudia at her side, he accepted the additional drink, but was mindful of his tongue. He cared for neither sibling and his temper digressed heavily.
"Another," he commanded of the staff dryly. He had savored the sharp taste of alcohol, his hangover mildly waning.
Dominic suggested to Vladimir that he should woe the homely Claudia, seeing as Kane had begun to drink each shot of vodka as though it were a spoonful of medicine. The fair-haired man obliged, scooping the foolish, young woman onto his knee. He complimented her dress and the daughter of Harvey Maxim ate up the attention rather readily.
Kane finished another shot before he and Dominic excused themselves. Hugh was closely in tow, hapless amidst the company of the two large men as they walked towards the nearby cigar lounge. They talked briskly of stocks and politics before Kane settled on the topic of Harvey's absence.
"Where is he, now? I don't suppose he'd miss his own gala," Kane questioned the man sharply.
Hugh coughed on an imported cigar, a tear within his eye. He didn't much care for the smoke, yet he had sought to join the Russian men in their social activities. It occurred to him that the Romanov man had taken insult to his father's omittance to greet him personally. He hoped that such a dangerous guest had not been angered; the repercussions being that of ill-fate.
"Well?" Kane questioned once more; his accent thick as it echoed within the mouth of his glass.
"He and Christian Moreau have likely snuck off to the study for some drinks. The night is still early, isn't it? I suppose the prospect of social-duties requires a great deal of liquor."
Kane eyed the man's rose-tinted cheeks, akin to his homely sister.
"Oh! You simply must try this import he brought back from Cuba. It is an aromatic cigar with hints of cocoa and spices!" Hugh exclaimed, hoping to please his two guests.
Dominic sipped at his glass pleasantly, a smug grin upon his face. "And would your father not join us? Why don't you bring us to the study?"
The Kuznetsov man's tone had suggested to Hugh the intentness of the pair. "Of course, of course," he answered, still coughing between puffs. "My apologies. I will send word to him of your desire to speak—"
"No messenger is necessary, Hugh. Bring us to the study," Kane commanded. His voice had lowered; for the remnants of his patience were waning, along with the throb of his head. He had become further bondless from the vodka and he wished to complete matters in haste.
Hugh noted his raging impatience and stood from his seat promptly. "Right this way, Mr. Romanov."
Kane and Dominic abandoned the lounge and followed the flustered Maxim up the main staircase. They had glanced back to survey Vladimir, though he had already taken Claudia to the service elevator and had found his way beneath her lifted skirt. The homely and less impressive socialite had been excited at the encounter, having hoped to embitter the sightly Romanov. The woman's efforts were in vain, however; as Kane had shown no signs of jealousy and had been appeased at the paucity of her company.
Dominic chuckled darkly, noting that Hugh was likely aware of his sister's present visit to the elevator. He spoke to Kane in Russian, commenting on the causticity of the sentiment.
Kane finished his beverage and deposited his glass to the floor rudely.
Hugh had been stalling, causing his temper to boil as they wandered the long halls. He grasped the man's neck gruffly, sending him into the side of a decorative, wood-paneled door.
Dominic remained resigned at the presence of Kane's ill-temper. He rather enjoyed the roughness, seeing as they were out of view from guests.
"For fuck's sake; get on with it!" Kane hissed, watching as the man struggled pitiably.
Hugh clambered to his feet, regretting his decision to liquor up the brawny pair of men. He had known of Viktor and his sons' wrath, though he hadn't expected such violence from the complimentary shots of alcohol.
"Mr. Romanov. To what do we owe this occasion?" Harvey greeted. His manner had been a bit flustered; as Kane had all but broken down the study-room door.
Hugh had entered in closely behind him, a dull-witted look upon his face. He hadn't the time to warn his father of their approach and, for that, he'd been wearied.
"Viktor sends his warmest regards," Kane informed his audience rather stolidly.
Within the study stood Harvey and his guests: Christian Moreau; his son, Sebastian; and Reg Clifton, their discerning accountant. All four men were startled at the mention of the Romanov family patriarch and had hastened in their responses.
"He won't be back from Saint Petersburg for another two days, but insisted that I accept his invitation in his place. My men and I am welcome at your ritzy, little gala— Are we not?"
"But, of course. You two gentlemen help yourselves. We were just about to crack open a pricey stout!"
Kane jeered pridefully as he wrapped his arm firmly around Harvey's shoulders. The tall man towered over the less-statured Maxim and he laughed nervously, a bottle hugged tightly within his hands.
Sebastian edged forward, though Dominic thwarted him; as he stood near the entrance rather dauntingly. As Kane continued in his antics, encouraged by the stiff shots of liquor, the Kuznetsov man noticed an open safe upon the floor. He addressed Kane in Russian, informing him of this find.
Christian had sought to shove it closed with the heel of his shoe, though a prompt flash of a metal handgun discouraged him.
"What have we here, Mr. Maxim?" Kane questioned, the bottle of stout held loosely within his right hand and his gun within his left.
A thick bead of sweat glistened across Harvey's bald head.
Kane swiped a different opened bottle of liquor from the desk and took a hearty gulp. He hadn't cared for the stout and had deposited it back within Harvey's small hands before making his way towards the safe.
"Contracts for a resort that's to be constructed in Tulum," Harvey sputtered.
"Tulum? A choice location. Why don't you show me them?"
Harvey directed that Christian hand over the contents of the safe. Kane flipped through the papers carelessly, leaving each page of parchment creased. He noticed a folder concerning a resort located within Dubai, along with a list of seemingly random account numbers.
"I am sure you were careful to make copies," Kane stated, handing the rest of the papers to Dominic.
Both Christian and Harvey seemed vexed at his decision to claim the contracts, though neither man presented any form of argument.
"While I am here, I intend to collect payments," Kane continued. There had been stacks of pressed money stashed within the safe and he felt the need to clear it out, thoroughly.
Christian directed his son to package it within a briefcase and Dominic accepted it readily. Kane stared at Sebastian closely, pointing his gun towards him as he carried out the exchange. Kane's distaste for him had been clear, the Romanov man having been sore at the thought of his previous engagement with the affluent heiress. He wished to question the cast of men further, though his anger had gotten the better of him and he considered it best to reconvene.
Harvey hadn't been relieved at the Russian man's departure and the fact pleased Kane thoroughly. He hadn't known the extent of the safe's contents nor its relevancy to Aleksander Stomsvik, though Harvey and Christian's faces had suggested its significance.
Hugh offered that the men should stay a bit longer and Kane bashed him with the butt of his gun, promptly bloodying his nose.
They continued down the hallway, arriving back at the location of the main gala. Vladimir met them, having already finished in his fucking of Claudia Maxim. He had hailed their private car and had awaited their return cheekily, a cigar within his mouth.
The wet-eared lackey commented that they should attend a night at one of Dmitry's lounges, though Dominic halted the idea; as he had been heedful of Kane's strict preferences.
They, instead, decided to set course for their home-estate, the promise of a game of billiard's enough to satisfy the young Vladimir.
Meanwhile: Sophia sipped delicately at a delivered cup of tea as the men arrived back from their timely errand. She had drawn a hot bath, restless from the time she'd spent alone within Kane's private wing. She wondered what matters had preoccupied him and was giddied at the prospective event of his return.
The lather within the bath grew sparce and she stood from the water, drying herself gently. As she wrapped herself within the man's grey, cotton robe, she exited the bathroom, only to find him seated upon the bed.
"Ms. Stomsvik," he greeted drunkenly. He had chosen to unbutton his Armani dress-shirt, his knuckles stained a dried-red.
Sophia eyed the man carefully, choosing not to question him of the blood.
Furred with lust and vodka, he stared back at her with a beastlike smile. "It is not mine," he told her, noting her attention. He had stood from the bed and approached her, earning her doe-like surprise.
"I was just enjoying a bath," she explained bashfully. She was affrighted at his lucidity and had smelled the cologne of cigars and alcohol upon him. Hoping to deter the previous topic of their conversation, she reached for a plate of teacakes. "Would you like one? Your maid just brought them for me."
Kane obliged her offer and dined hastily on the pastries.
"Tonight is the Maxim family's charity gala, isn't it?" Sophia questioned. She had previously accompanied her father to the event, the gala having been an annual occurrence. She had assumed Kane hadn't attended, seeing as he had returned to the suite at a conservative hour.
The brawny man nodded in affirmation. "It is."
He wore an expression of hunger; much like the firm countenance he had met her with when he had seen her within The Luxe. He staggered towards her; for he had continued to drink heartily within the private car, Dominic and Vladimir having partaken, as well. They had finished a bottle to themselves, each, and were now thoroughly intoxicated.
"Is there any word on Maeve? Did Giovanni and their party make it to France?"
Kane had little interest in the Stomsvik heiress' friends, having been occupied in studying the large robe as it concealed her slim frame. He wished to touch her long legs and the prospect of her plush, bare skin left him wanton. "I can assure you that their private jet has arrived. They've likely landed in Bordeaux by this evening," he mused aloud.
Sophia smiled, grateful for the man's fulfillment of their promise. As Kane tugged at the belt of the robe, however, her lips parted apprehensively at the musk of his breath.
"Drinking tea when you should be sharing a bottle with me. Vodka. Gin. Rum..." he hummed lowly, his tongue flicking against the back of his teeth.
Sophia knew well of his present intoxication and decidedly treaded upon the affliction with caution. "Gin? I'd love a light tonic. Wouldn't you?"
Kane grinned at the blonde, the tattoos upon his chest rising slowly with the cadence of his breath. "A good choice," he slurred, reaching for the bar cart and fixing a pair of glasses.
The cocktail he had given her was strong and Sophia sipped at the glass slowly. She had hoped to conceal her discomfort, though her pink lips pursed together and she earned a deep chuckle from her captor. She couldn't help but to notice his chiseled stare; his emerald eyes still firm amidst his affliction.
"I have enjoyed your company," Kane stated to her rather suddenly. The pair had shared a bed rather chastely. Even though his physical yearnings had yet to be met, the sight of her within his blankets had appeased him.
Sophia looked towards him with flushed cheeks. Perhaps it was the strong presence of gin within her glass that had prompted her to blush. It occurred to her how apparent her attraction to the brawny man must've been; for he stared at her with a possessiveness— as though she were already his.
Kane finished his glass and fixed himself another. "Fuck!" he hissed thickly; as he had knocked the bottle against the side of the bar cart and had promptly split his palm.
Sophia was quick to wrap a cloth handkerchief around his bleeding wound. "Careful!" she told him. He had tried to pull his hand back stubbornly, though the blonde held tightly to his wrist.
"It is fine," the man insisted. He kicked at the broken glass angrily and Sophia sought to calm him.
"The cut is deep," she warned, noting how his intoxication caused the wound to not clot properly. "Is there a doctor we can call?"
Kane was quite amused at her panic and he chuckled carelessly. "I do not need a doctor," he stated.
"Please."
Kane released a low breath and laid back within the bed. He instructed her the number in which she should call. Worried, she went to the phone upon the bedside table and dialed it quickly.
The Romanov mansion housed a professional cast of doctors and nurses, being as it was the homestead of Russian mafia-men and their criminal affiliates. Bullet and knife wounds had been more of their specialty, so the mention of a deep gash did little to scare the nurse that arrived outside the luxury suite.
She cleaned the wound and stitched it up carefully. Sophia watched piously, thanking the young nurse before she'd left.
Kane appeared a bit sheepish; for he hadn't been used to such delicate concern. The heiress truly cared for his well-being and her tenderness had awed him immensely. Impassioned by this sentiment, he became more brazen. He kissed her gruffly and the heiress, surprised at the act, had allowed him his dominance.
He murmured to her lovingly in Russian; the devotion being that of obscurity, though Sophia had understood his intentions as he lifted her from the bed and carried her into the washroom. Once there, he pulled her into the tepid waters of the bath and continued in his feverish fondling.
Sophia had yelped as he'd pulled her into the bathtub and had placed her firmly atop him. The large robe she wore became damp and heavy. The plush fabric fell from her shoulders and revealed her fair-skinned breasts, to which the man was promptly besotted.
He cursed sharply, pulling her closer to him so that her bare skin pressed against his tattooed chest. "Will you allow me to have you?" he questioned her.
His accent had been thick as he'd begun kissing at the skin of her neck. Sophia remained silent; for, as he'd neared her collarbone and had begun to nibble, a soft moan was all she could manage.
Kane groaned from beneath her, having been pleased at the sight of her light-pink nipples. He reached for her hand excitedly and placed it upon the tautened fabric of his slacks. Sophia was startled at the man's immodesty and had withdrawn from her place atop him. As she sat within the water, positioned between his large legs, she stared at him timidly.
Kane chuckled, running his wettened hands through the thick locks of his hair and smirking at her provokingly. "Does the sight of me scare you?" he questioned, liquor upon his breath. "I have seen the way in which you've looked at me, Ms. Stomsvik: it is the same allurement that has drawn me to you."
Sophia could not argue. Despite the apprehension she had felt towards Lacy as she'd pursued Dmitry Kuznetsov, she had fallen victim to the same dangerous entrapment. She found herself captivated by not only the handsome man before her, but also his unerring protection. "A man such as you would say anything to have your way with me. I will not sleep with you," she said sharply.
Kane stared at her with a ferociousness. "Of course, I would— but, my desires for you are not senseless."
"Men like you only conquer."
Kane grinned once more. "If you were mine, I'd fuck you over and over again," he breathed, wrapping his hand around her neck. "I'd make you my woman."
The lush between Sophia's legs grew warm. "You've had too much to drink," she continued, though the sight of his dark hair and chiseled jaw made her just as thoroughly besotted.
"Perhaps," he agreed, though his hand stayed stubbornly around her neck. He had never been denied and the prospect had begun to sober him.
Sophia watched as he stood from the bath and retreated towards the bedroom. He removed his wettened slacks, kicking them to the marbled floor and she blushed at his nakedness. She waited until he had climbed into bed, defeated, and replaced the wettened robe with a towel. Once she had safely clothed herself, she covered him chastely beneath a velvet blanket; as he had fallen asleep promptly.
His dark, lion-eyes remained closed— though the brawny man pulled her into his arms as soon as she had joined him. He uttered out in Russian once more, then returned to his liquor-induced slumber.
Sophia did not struggle; she remained within his strong arms and reflected on his words rather dutifully. She slept in restlessness, unable to deny her devotion to the Romanov man.
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