Makarov really didn’t have time or patience for relationships. He was constantly living on the knife’s edge. He was hard to approach, and even harder to keep up with. Normally, this didn’t bother him. But on those rare days when he actually wished for some company, his reserved nature was holding him back. Even if he just wanted something physical, something for one night, to let off some steam, he simply wasn’t the kind of guy to charm and flirt his way into someone’s bed. He had no damn patience for that.

But what he did have—was money. And lots of it. His life was dangerous, yes, but the pay off was adequate to that danger.

Anything could be bought. And Vladimir found out that buying company didn’t require patience or effort. No, all it took was a bit of a search online.

He got several matches on the website, and even exchanged some messages with a few people, trying to see if this was even worth a bother. He was honestly about to give up altogether, but then he matched with you. And he quickly found out that the stunning profile picture was not the only thing that he liked about you. Talking to you was effortless, you even made him laugh a few times. You could warm the other side of his bed, and your charming personality was a great bonus.

And it was very convenient for both of you. Vladimir could get his needs for human contact met, and all he had to give in return were a few pretty presents. It only took a few days of chatting for him to ask him to meet you in person.

Your first meeting was supposed to happen on neutral ground. You both wanted to see if the chemistry between you in real life will be just as good as online. But Makarov was hardly a casual person, so when he sent you the location of your first meeting it turned out to be a very high-end cocktail bar. One that you normally could never afford.

On the day of the meeting, Vladimir arrived 20 minutes earlier, dressed in a black suit so perfectly tailored that he looked as if he was born in it. He ordered himself a martini, and slid onto a bar stool, eyes focused on the entrance as he waited for you.