Vladimir Puddin Novels & Stories

She smirked. Vladiv rolled his eyes at her before springing off his chair. "I have to go pick Mia up from school," he informed and started to amble away. "I didn't know that would be enough to shut you up," She chortled. "Uhm Lexi you had said Vladiv's favourite dish is Okroshka, I was thinking that since his birthday is tomorrow maybe we could make that for him but the thing is I do not know anything about Russian dishes," I mouthed.

"AHAhahahaHhaha....*CoUgh*...*COugh.*wHeeZe*...KhahAHAHAhaH, Someone really got you, man!" Vladimir scrunches his nose, finally regaining the bitterness of his words. He stumps out of the chart-room, not saying even a thing towards his friend. The mad dog is sure pissed off! He probably won't forget that a red-headed lowly boy ever exists in this world and one day! Surely one day, he will take that lowly life's head with his two hands! For Vlad, today is the worst day he could have. Even having dinner with his father could not make him this disgusted!

he shot straight at me. My ear twitched, and I got the urge to deep my finger into it, and wipe it clean so I could hear clearly. Because surely, I didn't hear what I thought I just heard. “I'm the pervert who is looking to secure a woman way younger than me,” he continued, as if the first information wasn't heart stopping enough. “I'm the dirty, old creep. Some people call me Vladimir though. Vladimir Bratva.” My pounding heart dropped to my stomach, where it flipped, and kicked back to my throat, forming a lump there that sealed my lips.

My voice came out dry and hoarse, rasping against my throat like sandpaper, the sound barely above a whisper. Vladimir was sitting in a simple plastic chair by the bed, too large for the space, too commanding to belong in a place that reeked of quiet suffering. He stared down at the red apple in his pale hand, turning it over slowly, as if he were dissecting a corpse instead of a piece of fruit. The blade of a small knife flashed faintly in the sunlight that filtered through the plastic curtain, slicing through the crimson skin. The peel curled like thin, wet ribbon, clinging to the white flesh beneath. The apple was mangled, uneven, hacked into submission. I guess he’s not very good at peel

“Um…is there…uh…is there any other name you have in mind? I can’t think of anything else.” “Vladimir.” “And that means?” “Ruler of the world.” “Interesting. I like that, Vlad. Vladimir. Vladimir Yezhov, my bundle of sunshine.” “Yes.” He shifted on the bed, scooting closer while peering into my eyes. “But not as interesting as the content of your journal.” It took me a minute to adjust before being able to interpret the meaning behind his words, and when I did, that lump in my throat returned. If I thought I couldn’t speak before but still managed some words, now he’d successfully rendered me speechless.

As usual, his hands and arms were loaded with heavy gold -- chain link bracelet, diamond-rimmed Rolex Masterpiece, massive rings set with star sapphires and smoky topaz. I licked my lips and crossed my legs when I sat down across from him. But Vlad had only business on his mind. “I am launching new product,” he said, handing me a draft brochure. Vladi Vodka was introducing a line of premixed specialty martinis: apple, chocolate, key lime, orange, cherry, and lemon.

Strong hands caught me before I hit the ground. I blinked. Empty and dark eyes. Sharp cheekbones. A powerful presence that sent an instant chill down my spine. I knew this man. Even through my delirium, even through the haze of exhaustion and blood loss— I recognized him without missing a single beat. Vlad the Impaler. Vladislav Moroz. The most powerful businessman in the world. And Malcom was right behind me.

Vladimir took a deep breath and put on his business face. “Hope I didn't disturb you.” “Get to the point, zhopa!” “Uhm… Hugo is hanging naked in my warehouse. Anything specific you want me to do?” Vladimir said. The temperature of the conversation changed instantly. “Suka Blyat! I knew I could count on you, comrade! Great job! You can have as many whores as you want. Even from my personal stash,” Ivan Volkov excitedly exclaimed and laughed. Vladimir cringed at it. This was not going to end well when Volkov realized what had happened.

And instantly my modd dipped slightly as the person who occupied the enomorous dining table was Vladimir. He sat near one end with a tablet, reading something while he absently stirred a cup of coffee that had probably gone cold several minutes ago. Before I could announce my presence, he looked up from his tablet and smiled. "Good morning," he greeted warmly, without any hint of the emotion I had seen in his eyes back in the office. "I was beginning to think you'd decided to hide upstairs all day." “I thought of doing exactly that, but then I thought that someone might just knock on the door and then I would have to come downstairs anyway,” I replied, shrugging as I took my seat.