The Arrangement: An Age Gap, Mafia Romance (Silver Fox Daddies)

The shop is quiet, the kind of silence you need after a day of chaos and barking dogs.

I’m alone, cleaning up, the rhythmic swish of my broom practically meditative. The door chimes unexpectedly, slicing through the stillness like a knife. My heart skips a beat as I look up and find Maksim standing there, imposing and just as infuriatingly sexy as he was the other night.

He’s dressed slightly more casually than the full suit I’ve seen him in, instead opting for gray slacks and a white dress shirt, the sleeves rolled up just enough to show off his sexy-as-hell forearms. He marches into my shop like he owns the place.

Hell, in a few days, he just might.

‘Your debt,’ he begins, his voice low, ‘can be wiped away. All I ask is for you to give me what I want.’ His eyes lock onto mine, searching, as if he’s trying to gauge my reaction.

A laugh, short and absent of humor, escapes me. ‘What if there’s been a change to the deal?’ I challenge. My heart’s thudding in my chest.

He raises an eyebrow in surprise. “What sort of change?”

‘It’s no longer just about what you want. It’s about what I want too.”

There’s nothing more to be said.

He moves closer, his hands finding my hips with a certainty that sends shivers down my spine. He pulls me into a deep kiss, a rush of desire and power swirling between us, the shop around us fading into nothingness.

He presses me against him, his hardness against my thigh.

But it’s what I want. His lips part, his tongue finding mine. God, he tastes good. His tongue probes me, my pussy growing wetter by the second. There’s no resistance from me, even though I should know better than to give myself to a man like him, a man so dangerous.

He reaches behind me, pulling off my apron and tossing it aside. My hands are busy on the pearl buttons of his dress shirt, opening them one by one, exposing his upper body. His chest is covered in strange tattoos that look almost religious.

I sweep my hands over his massive, sculpted chest, his lips curling into a sneer of pleasure, as if he knows exactly what kind of an effect he’s having on me.

Before I can spend too much time ogling him, Maksim wraps his huge arm around my waist, pulling me close. Those dark eyes, deep pools of desire, are locked onto mine. He reaches down to the hem of my dress, pulling it up and exposing the light blue thong I have on.

I feel exposed, my gaze flicking to the window to make sure no one’s watching. The store’s closed, but still…

Thunder rumbles in the distance, rain coming down hard, but my attention is on Maksim, that hungry, sensual expression he wears as his hand moves up, up, all the way to my pussy. He touches me through the fabric of my panties, teasing my clit.

“Does that feel good?” he growls.

“So… so good.”

“You’re mine now,” he says, his tone brooking no dispute. “All mine.”

The pleasure is so intense all I can do is nod. He takes his hand away and I want it back so goddamn badly.

“Go to the counter,” he says. “Now.”

I feel like I’m under a spell. I do as he asks without hesitation, my legs a bit wobbly from the excitement, my steps ungainly.

“Pull your dress up.”

I obey. I can feel his gaze locked onto my ass, devouring me with his eyes.

“Pull down your panties.”

I do it. The air is cool against my bare pussy.

He steps over, his dress shoes clicking against the floor. He puts one hand on my hip, the other undoing his zipper. I close my eyes, ready to feel him, ready for Maksim to plunge inside, and-

Thump.

The train hits a bump hard enough to yank me from my fantasy. The dream shatters, leaving me blinking against the harsh fluorescent light of the L train. It’s morning, still dark out, the early hours casting a blue tint over Chicago as it starts to wake.

I sit up, realizing I’d dozed off on my way to work. It was a fantasy, nothing more, yet it feels like a betrayal of my own resolve. Why him, of all people? Maksim Morozov, a man who represented the kind of danger I’d vowed to stay away from.

The train jostles along the tracks, carrying me closer to another day at the shop, another day fighting to keep my head above water. The dream, unsettling as it is, underscores the loneliness that’s been my constant companion since Ned’s mess became mine. It’s a reminder of my desires, buried down deep but still there.

The sickest part of it was that I wasn’t even coming from my home, but from Ty’s place where he’d let me crash for the night and take a shower. I’d lost my apartment during the breakup with Ned, and by that point the shop had been so all-consuming that I hadn’t had the time or the money to get another place.

When I’d found out the shop had an old-school Murphy bed in the back, that sealed the deal. The shop also came equipped with a shower stall, so I was all set. But occasionally I liked to sleep in an apartment and bathe in a larger shower. Ty offered often, but I didn’t want to be a burden.

As the train pulls into my stop, I shake off the remnants of the dream, getting psyched up for the day ahead. Stepping off, the cold morning air bites at my skin, a harsh jolt back to reality.

I’m at the shop by the ungodly hour of 4:45 AM, the quiet before the storm. The first arrivals, two golden retrievers named Jack and Sam, whose owners are nurses pulling twelve-hour shifts, expect nothing less than their preferred doggie beds side by side, complete with an assortment of toys I laid out the night before.

The shop, a haven for pups Monday through Friday -closed on the weekends, thank God- quickly becomes a bustling hub of activity, a total contrast to the silence of the early morning.

By eight, Paws and Play is full to the brim, barks and playful yelps filling the air. The morning has been smooth, all things considered, until an overactive chihuahua named Mabel decides she’s the alpha, challenging a poodle/lab mix merely interested in a friendly sniff.

Carting the shivering, yet defiant, attacker to a quieter spot, I lecture her on the importance of manners, though I’m fully aware my words are lost in translation. As I’m talking to her, the back door opens, a sound that now triggers a mixture of excitement and dread. For a split second, my heart leaps at the possibility—could Maksim have decided to visit during work hours?

The thought sends a wave of conflicting emotions through me. It’s ludicrous, given the circumstances, yet I can’t help but feel a twinge of disappointment when it’s not Maksim who walks in but Nicky, our new hire.

Nicky, oblivious to the mini drama unfolding in my head, trudges in with a huge bag of dog food slung over his shoulder, grumbling about the early hour and the weight of his load. My heart, still racing from the irrational hope of seeing Maksim, settles back into its usual rhythm, chiding myself for even entertaining the thought.

‘Morning, Tory,’ Nicky mumbles, not a morning person, as he takes the dog food to the storage area.

‘Morning, Nicky. Thanks for bringing that in,’ I respond, forcing a smile, my mind still reeling from the rollercoaster of emotions triggered by a simple sound. I watch as Nicky hauls the massive bag of dog food across the shop floor. ‘Make sure you get the dipper out before you dump it into the barrel,’ I call out to him, not wanting a repeat of last week’s fiasco. I put a smile on my face as I make the request.

He turns, a matching grin spreading. ‘Won’t make that mistake again. Learned my lesson the hard way,’ he chuckles.

Nicky’s got the sort of easy attitude and good nature that a job like this requires. He’ll be a great fit here, even if he isn’t a morning person and assuming I can keep this place open. With Ty unable to work until noon, Nicky’s presence in the mornings has been a godsend.

As the morning rush begins to settle and we catch our breath, Ty makes his grand entrance right around lunchtime, his arms heavy with bags that carry the unmistakable aroma of Chicago beef sandwiches.

‘Lunch is served,’ he declares with a theatrical flourish of his arms, placing the bags on the counter with a sense of ceremony only Ty could manage.

I’m starving, but the unmistakable sound of a dog whining draws my attention to the back of the shop.

‘Go ahead, guys, eat up,’ I tell them, tearing my eyes away from the bag of food.

The issue is obvious as soon as I step into the back. Howard, our resident Great Dane and usually a model of canine decorum, has decided that right after his outdoor break was the perfect time to create an indoor doggie doo-doo disaster.

“Howie, I swear.” Howard’s all contrition, sitting on his paws and regarding me with those big brown eyes of his. “You’re lucky you’re a charmer.”

With a resigned sigh, I grab the cleaning supplies, leaving Ty and Nicky to their meals. The mess is sizable -and stinky- but it’s all part of the job—a job I genuinely love, despite its less glamorous moments. As I work, the shop fills with the sounds of canine contentment: playful yips, happy barks, and the soft snores of napping pups. It’s this stuff, this chaos, that reminds me why I’m here, why I’ve poured my heart and soul and savings into this place.

In spite of everything, a smile forms as I work. Life is hard as hell at the moment, but at least it’s on my terms. Well, aside from the little matter of the debt Ned left me that I’ll never be able to pay.

In the midst of scooping Howard’s latest contribution to the shop vibe, a voice breaks through the monotony.

‘You know, you look beautiful when you smile like that.’

The deep timbre is unmistakable, instantly pulling me from my focus. I spin around, poop shovel in hand, to find Maksim leaning casually against the door frame to the back area, a smirk playing at the corners of his lips.

The shock of his presence sends a wave of heat across my cheeks, my earlier frustrations forgotten in the flush of embarrassment. I suddenly remember the fantasy, remember bending over in front of the counter, his eyes on me…

‘Maksim,’ I manage, my voice steadier than I feel. The absurdity of the situation isn’t lost on me—here I am, standing in the middle of my doggy daycare, armed with a shovel full of dog doo, face-to-face with the one man who’s been occupying too much of my thoughts lately, my cheeks flushed red from the fantasy still lingering in my thoughts.

“What are you doing here? This is an employees’-only area, anyway.” I realize how ridiculous the words are as soon as they come out of my mouth, telling a mobster he can’t just stroll into the back area of a doggy day care.

His gaze drifts to the shovel, then the bag. ‘Are you going to throw that at me?’ The amusement in his voice is clear, but there’s an underlying challenge there, too. “Maybe fling your little biological weapon with that shovel?”

I can’t suppress the snort that escapes me. ‘You know, I’d like to,’ I admit, the words out before I can think better of them. It’s the truth, though. Part of me relishes the thought of wiping that smug look off his face, even as another, far less rational part of me is acutely aware of the tension that always seems to crackle between us. Howard sits calmly, watching us with his big brown eyes.

The standoff, if it can be called that, is broken by my decision to deposit the bag into the nearest waste bin, the lid banging shut as I close it.

Once the immediate crisis is handled, I face Maksim again, trying to ignore the quickening of my pulse. ‘Why are you back?’

My tone is light, but there’s an undercurrent of curiosity, and yes, a hint of wariness. After all, our last encounter was anything but ordinary, and his presence here, now, suggests this visit won’t be, either.

Maksim pushes off from the door frame, taking a step closer, his expression unreadable. ‘I had business nearby,’ he begins, the explanation sounding more like a pretext. ‘Thought I’d check in on how you’re managing the debt.’

He steps over to Howard, scratching the top of the dog’s head. Howard’s all about it, leaning into Maksim’s touch.

The mention of the debt brings a sharp focus back to the conversation. My stance shifts, defensive yet defiant. ‘I’m managing,’ I assert, unwilling to show any sign of weakness. ‘But I doubt that’s all you came here for.’

He nods, giving Howard one more scratch before turning his attention to the rest of the shop. I glance through the windows that look out onto the front of the store. Ty and Nicky are watching with careful eyes. Ty holds up his phone, mouthing “call the police?” I shake my head.

‘I wanted to see the business Ned used as collateral, while it’s still open,’ Maksim says, his gaze sweeping across the shop with a curious intensity.

With a shake of the shovel, I gesture to the chaos around us. ‘Well, it’s not all that glamorous, as you can see. But it’s mine and I love it,’ I assert, pride swelling in my chest for the world I’ve built.

His smile then, unexpected and disarmingly handsome, sends my heart into a frenzy. It’s unsettling how a simple expression can unravel me, can make me forget, if only for a moment, the complexities and shadows his presence in my life represents.

“It’s good to take pride in your work, to be in pursuit of your own goals.” He glances over his shoulder at the city outside. “So many people out there… they’re going through the motions, not sure why they’re doing what they do.”

“Thanks for the inspirational words,” I say, a tinge of sarcasm to my voice. “Is there anything else?”

Maksim’s gaze snaps back from the window, locking onto mine with an intensity that feels like a physical touch. I’m being impatient, urging him to leave, but he doesn’t seem at all affected, as if the world runs on his time.

‘People like us,’ he pauses, a subtle emphasis on ‘us’, ‘we make our own fate.’

His words hang heavy in the air ‘People like us, huh?’ I reply. ‘And here I thought I was just a small business owner, not a mob enforcer.‘

He doesn’t flinch at my words; if anything, his smile widens just a fraction, as if my snark is exactly what he expects, what he admires.

‘Forget it,’ I go on, not sure I want to hear the end of that thought. ‘Was there anything else, or can I get back to work?’ My tone is sharper than I intend, a defense mechanism against the turmoil stirring inside me.

“You and I both know there’s something else. Let’s talk.”