Summer Storm (Broken Circles Book 1), page 1
Copyright © K A Sands 2020.
Summer Storm, Book #1, Broken Circles Series.
Summer Storm is a work of fiction. Names, characters, businesses, events and incidences are either a figment of the author’s imagination or used in a fictious manner. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, or actual events are purely coincidental. Any and all trademarks mentioned belong to their respective owners and are acknowledged by the author.
Published in the United Kingdom by K A Sands.
All rights reserved. This book, or any portion thereof, may not be reproduced in any manner whatsoever without the express written permission of the publisher, except for the use of brief quotations in a book review. Illegal downloads of this ebook publication are not allowed and action will be taken, please purchase from a reputable vendor. Please contact the author at kasandsauthor@gmail.com regarding any enquiries.
Cover Image – Jonathan Borba (Stock Image.)
Broken Circle Image - Copyright © 2020 by Derek Sutherland.
Cover Design – K A Sands. Image Copyright © 2020 by K A Sands.
Edits, Proofreading & Formatting – DeditS.
Contents
Summer Storm
Blurb - Summer Storm
A note from the author
Dedication
16 Years Ago
Irina Ischmova
Yannick Ischmov
Jolie Summers
Yannick
Jolie
Irina
Yannick
Jolie
Yannick
Jolie
Irina
Yannick
Jolie
Yannick
Irina
Jolie
Yannick
Jolie
Yannick
Jolie
Yannick
Irina
Jolie
Yannick
Irina
Jolie
Irina
Yannick
Jolie
Yannick
Jolie
Irina
Yannick
Jolie
Yannick
Jolie
Yannick
Irina
Jolie
Yannick
Jolie
Yannick
Thank you for reading Summer Storm
Other Series by K A Sands
About the Author
Playlist
Summer Storm
Broken Circles, Book #1
By K A Sands
Blurb - Summer Storm
Yannick Ischmov had everything he never wanted. Money, notoriety, and the wife. The unconventional contract holding him to his biggest regret had an expiration date; one he was counting the days down to. Fifteen years of penance paid would have been easier behind a cell door, instead, he walked free and bore the weight of the shackles imposed upon him.
Jolie Summers lived in her own private hell. A scornful mother and little desire to change her life, she was content to muddle on through, not expecting more than she was given. Uninteresting was an apt word to describe the woman people affectionately called ‘Bunny’.
They’d met once before, an unpleasant experience, and their paths should never have crossed again. But they did, and the second time was far more exciting than the first. While Yannick was moving on, Jolie was standing still, yet something… something stirred between them.
Yannick pushed; Jolie pulled.
Jolie fell, Yannick rose.
Everything in between was one step closer to that perfect summer storm.
A man with a past he was ready to walk away from, Yannick ached to live the life he’d always desired. Just so happened, he’d found the woman he wanted to share it with too, and she wanted nothing to do with him.
A note from the author
From the minute Yannick Ischmov stepped on to the page in Craving Truths (Book #3, The Razer Series), I knew he had a story. I thought he’d be dark and broody, a menace like he was initially portrayed. Turns out he was just misunderstood and was dying to tell his story. Summer Storm is the introduction to a new series titled ‘Broken Circles’, an introduction to Yannick’s world and the people he holds close to his heart.
I wrote this book, and the four that follow, during lockdown. I’d climb into bed at night and write so I could forget about everything falling apart around me, forget about the enormous responsibility of keeping people other than myself safe. The couples and their stories became my sanctuary - I sincerely hope you can find some reprieve while reading them.
As always, I have people to thank and I do so from the bottom of my heart.
Yannick was given to me by Lesley, and I can’t thank her enough for doing so. I hope I did him justice. I also have to apologise for giving you half manuscripts (eek) but keep cracking the whip. You’re the reason I try to type up as quick as I can. Love you.
Marian, thank you for doing an unusual beta read this time around but I think I need the old way back. Driftwood, that’s what I felt like without your thorough input. Psst, again… don’t leave me!
Tracy did her first beta read with me. Thank you so much! I hope you will be on board for the rest of the series.
To the readers, bloggers, reviewers - anyone who supports and reads us authors - I am sending a huge hug and massive thanks for taking time out of your day to flick through the pages of the books we write. They are a passion we pour from our hearts and you make us smile every time you read us. There is no better time to be a creative artist. Love x
Dedication
This is for anyone who has suffered, is suffering and will suffer. We are all in this together.
2020 can sit on my middle finger and spin… After I’ve washed my hands, of course.
16 Years Ago
Yosef stared from one man to the next until those steel-grey eyes landed on Yannick and remained so. Defiant. Cold. Unyielding. Yannick wanted to flinch away from the look of resignation that finally swept across his brother’s face, a face that looked so much like his own, like their father’s.
He stood solemnly in one corner of the empty room, Irina’s father in the opposite, Lev behind Yosef. Yannick blocked the door. His brother had nowhere to go, which had been the point. There was no leaving this room, no escaping the fate which had brought them all there.
“Look at you.” Yosef cackled. A manic sound Yannick hadn’t ever heard from his brother’s mouth before.
Yes, Yannick thought, look at me. Standing in a draughty room he’d never wanted to be in in the first place. He wasn’t like Yosef. Or his father, or indeed, the other two men in the room watching. Waiting.
But his life had imploded in such spectacular style, he hadn’t seen it coming until it was too late.
The gun he clutched to the side of his leg was as foreign as the concept of the consequences he was about to mete out. The steel was too heavy for his hand, his fingers trembling as the magnitude of the situation, of what he’d been told to do, sank in.
“Why?” was all Yannick could think to ask. The million other questions that had kept him awake for the past two weeks didn’t seem to matter anymore.
“Why not?” Yosef snapped, glancing to his father, before rolling on the balls of his feet and capturing Yannick in his gaze again.
Yannick simply didn’t understand how they’d ended up where they were. This wasn’t his life - he didn’t want it.
He’d never wanted it.
“She’s a real good fuck, by the way.” And that was all it took. Yannick’s fingers no longer shook when he pointed the gun squarely at his brother’s chest and took two steps closer to the man who had betrayed the meaning of the word family. “Don’t miss, mladshiy brat.” Little brother. Yosef’s words were a whisper on his lips, the Russian, rusty.
Yannick didn’t intend to, even though he understood with absolute clarity this would take his soul and bend it into an ugly thing he couldn’t ever forget. His life would never be the same, and he supposed it was always meant to be. He was a pawn in the lives of the surrounding men. Their father had called checkmate, and Yosef had lost. Yannick had lost.
A late summer storm raged outside, the crack of thunder almost as loud as the gun discharging, nowhere near as deafening as Yannick’s heart splitting in two.
Yes, Yannick thought, look at me.
He was nothing like Yosef, or his father, or the other men now standing with their heads bowed. He was a man who would pay the price for the ultimate betrayal - taking the life of a man he loved.
His heart raged while the storm settled and he swung on his feet, the gun clattering to the floor. Yannick, unable to comprehend the action he’d taken, looked his father square in the eye as he lifted his head. He’d unwillingly become this man in a single moment not of his doing, he was his father’s son after all, and they shared nothing but hatred now. He would forget his love, his hopes and his dreams, and would walk the path set before him. There was no other choice.
He’d serve his time, he deserved to.
Irina Ischmova
My husband liked pretty things. Dirty things. Lost causes. Expendable women he would bend to his will until he’d taken what he wanted. Then he’d throw them away without a second thought. His latest squeeze was no exception. Her mouth had been a temptation he couldn’t refuse but he’d ignored one important thing - she knew how to play the game too. Not until after she’d stolen his money - our money -
Now he was on the warpath and hungry for the blood he should have spilled with the prize I’d gifted him a few days ago. Kayleigh was going to be one sorry bitch when Yannick caught up to her, and with her days numbered, I was eager to get hold of her when Yannick brought her to me kicking and screaming. Stealing from Yannick was stealing from me, my blade had punished for far less.
Leaning back in the creaky leather chair, I stared out of the office window, scanning the back fence of our garden. A garden that would never see children, or host a summer barbeque, or lend itself to a warm summer evening for star crossed lovers to share. Peaceful is what it was, a welcome reprieve from the hellacious rabble Yannick and his men had brought in with their indignant disgust at being blindsided. Rowdy without an excuse, Yannick and his four henchmen were ten times worse when they’d been wronged, and the din often made my head ache. I was glad they’d finally left me to my own devices.
Welcome to my life, one that would cease to exist the minute Yannick was brave enough to step out from behind the contract he’d been made to sign fifteen years ago. Oh, it was coming, and I had decisions to make because for me, Yannick turning his back was simply not an option. If I lost him, I’d lose his men too and the control he’d readily handed over. His men were loyal to him, in turn loyal to me, yet I was under no illusions they were faithful for anything but my husband’s sake.
Andrey made it no secret he couldn’t stand to be in the same room as me for any length of time, and his brother, Sandir, was only marginally tolerable toward me. Greg steered clear, which I understood, coming on to him had not been one of my finer moments. And Tayte? Well… who knew? The man blew so hot and cold, I couldn’t ever get a read on where I fell on the loathing scale for him. My skin was thick, I didn’t particularly care whether they liked me or not, it only mattered that I had them in the same way Yannick did. To lose them would be a catastrophe.
Yannick may have been the king to my queen, but he was a reluctant one, and he would take his pawns with him when he left.
“Neat trick you pulled there.”
Having learned to temper my reactions around these men, when Tayte spoke up from the doorway, he was given little indication he’d startled me. “Didn’t work though, did it?” Tayte had never buttoned up the back, there was little point to lying.
“Are you surprised?”
Yes, I had been. I’d given my husband a gift, the only one I ever had in all the years we’d been married, and he hadn’t received it in the manner of which I’d anticipated. The woman I’d procured for him should have been his kryptonite. He’d coveted Charlie’s daughter since we’d started doing business with the selfish man years before, and after putting her father in an impossible position, it meant he could refuse me nothing. Chrissie had been my guarantee to a breach in contract which never came to fruition. My husband had seen something in that room which had given him pause and I was at a loss to understand exactly what.
“I guess not,” I sullenly admitted.
“You’re going to have to do better than that.” He smirked, making me want to slap the smug look from his face. “Oh wait, you can’t, can you? You played your trump card, and it wasn’t enough to win the game.”
“Did she need a hospital?”
Tayte laughed, casually sauntering into the room. “Come now, you know the answer. Nothing gets by you, Irina. You know as well as I do Chrissie walked out of that basement perfectly fine.”
Yannick may not have unleashed the beast, but he was one scary motherfucker when he wanted to be, and I knew for a fact he’d taken Charlie’s debt out on his daughter’s hide. She had not walked out perfectly fine.
“Why aren’t you with Yannick?”
“Left my phone on the table.”
“Sure you did.” I turned away from him, resisting the temptation to roll my eyes.
“Where is she?”
“Ah.” Getting up from the chair, I put distance between us. I never had liked being close to such an unpredictable man. “He’ll get Kayleigh in due course.”
“Another goose chase, hm? Four million is a lot of money.”
“Well,” I snorted. “More fool Yan for not doing his homework.”
Tayte slid around the side of the desk, boxing me into the corner of the room with ease, yet careful to keep distance between us. “Who are you going to torment when he’s gone, Irina? Because you know it’s coming, hence your pathetic attempt at pushing his boundaries. You have a brain in that dumb blonde head of yours, a trick or two up your sleeve, surely? Chrissie was not the answer, now you need to find another way to keep him tethered to you. I am going to enjoy watching you try to keep something that never belonged to you.”
God, this man was far too astute for his own good. I couldn’t get a measure of the man he was but he sure as fuck had my number. “Shouldn’t you be running along?”
Straightening the lapels on his jacket, he eyed me for a long moment before stiffly bowing his head. “You’re right, I should be.”
“Please tell my husband I expect him for dinner tonight.”
“As you wish.” Off he walked, leaving as quietly as he came.
Deflating, I dropped back into the chair and cursed out Yannick and his band of merry fucking men. Tayte was bang on the money - I was going to have to do better. But I couldn’t think of a single thing that would keep Yannick Ischmov close to me. He’d always been perfectly clear we were a business arrangement until we weren’t, and I didn’t have the first clue how that eventuality was going to play out, only that I was the one who was going to lose. I had written the ending a decade and a half before, yet I couldn’t foresee what the fallout would entail.
I had to be smarter than he gave me credit for if I was to keep a tight hold on the empire we’d built on shaky foundations. Our organisation would not falter because the agreement was ending, there had to be another way to keep Yannick Ischmov where he belonged. Coming up with a different set of plans had moved to the top of my list. Irina Ischmova did not lose.
* * * * *
Circling the ornately carved wooden table which sat centre in the dining room, I pulled out each chair as I passed. Stiletto heels clicked on the parquet flooring, the luxurious chiffon of my favourite dress whispering around my bare legs. For all the opulence of the big house my father had furnished in his moments of misplaced grandeur, my tastes were less expensive. Looks were deceiving.
Flicking a gaze at the man splayed out on the table, I grinned, then licked at my dry lips. Once I’d walked the table fully, I came to stand at the head and peered down into the baby blue eyes of Neil. His head lay on the table mat where I’d eat whatever he’d made earlier, what was there now was a simple amuse-bouche. A pre-selected menu before the main course.
“Hard. I want you hard.”
Naked, he lay trembling and semi erect, gazing up in wonder. Nowhere near good enough for the way I liked my men. There would be no foreplay, I wouldn’t touch, but I needed a hard cock inside me, not one standing at half-mast. He stroked slowly, his eyes glazing over with pleasure, the sight making the blood in my veins sizzle. Oh yes, he had a beautiful cock - long and sizeable - one which could hit all the right places and kept me coming back for more. Eagerness and anticipation took over at the feast on my table as I watched with hooded eyes the sight playing out before me. Neil was a pleaser and pleased me he did.
The door banged open, not quite distracting me enough to take my eyes from the show going on atop the table. A small groan echoed around the vast room, followed by the scrape of a chair at the other end of the table where Yannick was taking his usual spot. Darting my eyes in his direction, I looked my husband in the eye, and dared him to ask for what he wanted.
“Irina,” he yawned out my name, as if bored instead.
And why ever not? He’d watched this very same show many times over the years, he was bound to be sick of it by now. Or sick of me. Yet I couldn’t resist the taunts and the flagrant abuse of the power I held over him, both made me giddy at heart, even if achieving nothing in reality.
