Naughty Business: Kensley Series, #1

NAUGHTY BUSINESS

Kensley Series 1

Ellen Lane

© Copyright 2019 by Ellen Lane - All rights reserved.

No part of this book may be reproduced in any form or by any electronic or mechanical means, including information storage and retrieval systems, without written permission from the author, except for use of brief quotations in a book review.

Table of Contents

Chapter 1 - The Line of Succession

Chapter 2 - The Art of Confidence

Chapter 3 - Unstoppable Force Meets Immovable Object

Chapter 4 - Diametrically Opposed

Chapter 5 - Give and Take

Chapter 6 - A New Project

Chapter 7 - Staying Warm

Chapter 8 - Sound Advice

Chapter 9 - Letting Go

Chapter 10 - Change of Plans

Chapter 11 - Always By Your Side

Chapter 12 - Mistakes

Chapter 13 - Illogical

PROLOGUE

Chapter 1

Other Books

Chapter 1 - The Line of Succession

Vladimir Kensley didn’t know what to do with himself when he was at home.

It always seemed as if there was a sudden lack of things to do - or rather, things he needed to do. He was, after all, a person who thrived on schedules and carefully planned itineraries. A man who could be so brutally anal about the way his day was laid out that he’d gone through five personal assistants before he found one that understood the way his mind worked.

Of course, Marcy was on vacation now - and he was supposed to be too. But things had always been a bit harder for Vlad when it came to taking leisure time.

It was five in the morning and he was wide awake. By this point, he knew there was no hoping that he would magically go back to sleep. He would simply have to wait until someone else was up and puttering around before he made his appearance - most probably his mother. Next to him, she was the one who rose the earliest. Many a morning had been shared between just the two of them drinking coffee in the kitchen as they discussed how things were going for him in Manhattan.

But it would be at least another two hours before she even stirred.

With a sigh, he tucked his hands behind his head, staring at the intricate whorls of paint that decorated the ceiling of his room. Though they were meant to be random, he had no problem seeing a pattern in them - reading them almost as if he would have read an equation. The first time he’d mentioned this to any of his brothers, they had merely looked at him as though he were some kind of oddity - all of them except Ethan, that was. When it came to mathematical patterns, Ethan was as close to as savant as it was possible to be.

But he was nowhere near as uptight as his elder brother.

Ethan was, arguably, the most relaxed of them all - and Vlad only thought so because Alistair’s idea of relaxation was probably something that involved endangering his life. His oldest brother often liked to insist that a little base jumping or cliff diving would clear Vladimir’s mind, and Vlad always made sure that Alistair knew, in no uncertain terms, that he wouldn’t be taking his life in his hands anytime soon. He felt completely comfortable leaving that to the Scottish man, and periodic check-ins were the only reminder he needed that Alistair would like nothing more than to toss his entire family off the edge of a cliff.

With bungee cords attached, of course.

Their father had done it once - much to Vladimir’s shock. The man was nearing seventy, yet he liked to indulge Alistair’s crazy schemes every once in a while. When the Scot had suggested bungee-jumping from the highest platform in the world while on a business trip in Macau, Jackson Kensley had actually accepted.

When his wife found out three weeks later, she had given him a massive earful. Sixty- eight-year-old men, she insisted, weren’t made for bungee jumping! They were supposed to rein in their sons’ crazier impulses! But that, of course, had fallen to Vlad. Things always fell to Vlad, in that respect. He was supposed to be the responsible one.

It was a role he didn’t take lightly.

Shifting onto his side, Vlad searched the slowly lightening horizon outside. The sun would be rising soon, and when it did, it would bathe the family estate in warm, golden light as far as the eye could see.

He could remember the very first time he had watched the sunrise on Kensley grounds. He had been a thirteen-year-old boy, barely able to speak English, wondering what on earth his future would be like. At the time, he had been in the United States for a single week, most of which he had spent sequestered in his room trying to figure out how to get back to where he had come from. He decided, stubbornly, that he didn’t like this new country, or the man who had brought him here.

How foolish he’d been.

The first time he’d ever seen the sun rise over the grounds, he had been hell-bent on running away - though he didn’t know where he was returning to. As a child, he had been willful, stubborn and unquestionably rebellious - enough so that now, he was surprised by how much he’d changed. At age thirteen, the first light of morning had meant it was time to make his move - to pack all he could find to hawk for money and make his way from the manor into the strangeness of a country that wasn’t his own.

To this day, he had no idea how his father had known what he was planning - just that Jackson Kensley had been waiting for him in the entry hall -presumably to thwart him. To young Vladimir’s great surprise the man hadn’t tried to keep him from leaving. Jackson had merely fixed him with those intense, piercing gray eyes of his and opened the door for him, providing a sure path of escape.

He hadn’t taken it. Whether it was because he was intimidated by the man he would come to call father, or that some more mature part of him realized the mistake he would be making, Vladimir had merely dropped his bag of loot and hurried back to his room. Jackson had never asked him where he might have been going, and he had never apologized for his attempt at flight. It was a silent agreement between he and his father.

Kensley manor was his home now - perhaps more than Manhattan would ever be, even though he’d been living in the city for almost the past decade. Here, there were fewer professional pressures on him, even if he still felt the pressures of the Kensley family rather acutely.

A sudden knock on his door startled him, and he sat up, his expression curious. Who the hell was up and about at this hour? Who is it?

I’m jetlagged out of my mind. At the sound of his younger brother’s voice, Vlad found himself smiling slightly. And I assumed you’d be awake. Can I come in?

Of course. When the door opened, Toshiro was standing on the threshold. Vlad and the younger man were hardly ever in the same place at the same time, as Shiro was constantly on the move. Where Vlad was required to stay in Manhattan almost constantly, Toshiro never got to put roots down -such was the nature of their respective positions - and as such, they were slightly envious of one another.

Surprised to see you here. The Japanese man looked, as always, as put together as if he hadn’t been sleeping at all. He tightened the belt on his blue yukata before crossing the room to sink into an armchair near the window with a sigh. Never thought you would leave the office in the middle of a budget review.

Yes, well - blame our mother. She guilt-tripped me into it.

Ah, well, Shiro’s lips curved upward into a knowing smile. That explains a lot. I almost felt guilty for taking a few days off myself.

Vlad frowned immediately. Why? You probably take less personal time in a year than I do.

Well, Shiro sighed, ruffling his short cropped black hair thoughtfully. You are technically my boss.

The statement was enough to make Vlad eye him in warning. Christ, it’s too early for that, Shiro. Don’t start.

Well, you know what otou-san always says, Toshiro chuckled. The early bird catches the worm.

Right. Vlad rolled his eyes. And the jetlagged brother catches Vladimir off-guard in the early hours.

Something like that. Vlad usually wasn’t one for teasing, but Toshiro smiled so seldom that he couldn’t help but find himself grinning in return.

So, how was China? He changed the subject, far more interested in his brother’s travels than his own insomnia. Toshiro sighed, reaching into the pocket of his robe to extract a small bamboo pipe. The Japanese man had never smoked and didn’t plan to, but he didn’t like his hands to be idle. He spun the pipe between his fingers carelessly as he spoke.

Same as usual. They’re not particularly enthusiastic about dealing with a Japanese man.

"If they want our father’s business, they’ll learn to be a bit more accommodating. Vladimir’s frown had returned. While he was perfectly aware of the history of enmity between China and Japan, there was no part of him that believed it justified for all Chinese to dislike all Japanese, and vice versa. They weren’t about to replace Toshiro anytime soon, so, instead of facing the wrath of Jackson Kensley, the Chinese behaved themselves.

For the most part.

They put you up in a better hotel this time, at least.

Oh, yes. Toshiro chuckled. This one even had running water.

Vlad made a disapproving sound in his throat before his brother smirked. Teasing, Vlad. You were never very good at being teased.

The Russian sighed, I suppose I’m always a bit on edge.

Toshiro arched a brow, the pipe stilling against his palm. Don’t tell me you’re still worried about that deal with South Africa. That went off without a hitch months ago.

No, no. Vladimir waved him off, swinging his legs over the edge of the bed to stand and stretch briefly before joining the younger man by the window. There’s a big summit coming up in Chicago next month and I’m supposed to be presenting the results of our sales last quarter-

Vlad, you’re obsessed. Really. Toshiro’s dark-eyed gaze locked onto him as he addressed his elder brother frankly. Has it ever occurred to you that you’re the reason everything is running smoothly?

Leaning against the wall, Vladimir crossed lean arms over his chest. Father’s the reason everything runs smoothly. He always has been. He’s the one who built this company from the ground up - and when he leaves… Vlad trailed off, his brow furrowing. He didn’t know if he wanted to think about what would happen when their father retired. Of course, their old man had never properly announced it, but it was to be assumed that Vlad would be the one to take over as CEO.

The thought was more than a little intimidating.

When he leaves, you’ll be ready to take his place. Toshiro finished for him. Far from being kind or ingratiating - his tone was matter-of-fact - as if he couldn’t imagine anything less than the vision he painted occurring. To blow him out of the water, even.

That drew a small smile from Vlad - it was as difficult to imagine as it was gratifying. He’d like that, wouldn’t he?

He’d fucking love it, Shiro deadpanned, the pipe beginning to spin jovially through his fingers again.

This family, Vladimir thought - not for the first time since he’d been adopted - was something else. He wasn’t the oldest or even the most experienced, but they had absolutely no issue respecting him as Jackson Kensley’s heir. There had been several occasions when his brothers had even told him they could imagine no one else but Vlad taking over the family business.

As much as their comments heartened him, they also put him under no small amount of pressure. The Kensleys had made him who he was today. Disappointing them wasn’t an option.

Vladimir and Toshiro spent about an hour in comfortable silence together, watching the sun rise, before the rest of the family began to stir. Though they were all relatively early risers, Vlad could have predicted who got up first.

His mother knocked quietly on his door around seven and asked what they wanted for breakfast. Toshiro tried, as he always did, to tell the older woman that they were grown men and could make their own breakfast, and, as always, Olivia Kensley looked at him as if he had offended her very existence. Then their father woke to begin his daily walk around the grounds. As the years passed, it got harder and harder for him to make the one mile circuit - but he was determined to get his exercise, nonetheless.

Besides their parents and Toshiro, the only other occupant of the manor was Isabella, the housekeeper.  The moment she was sure Vladimir was awake, she swept into the room to wish him good morning and begin making his bed - the end of any attempts he might have made to go back to sleep.

Vladimir took the opportunity to indulge in a long shower as Toshiro’s words echoed through his mind once more. You’ll be ready to take his place. Blow him out of the water, even. Somehow, Vlad doubted he could do so well. He believed he was a decent hand in running the company, but how could he improve upon something that was already perfect? He had following his father’s model for almost a decade now, and he didn’t see the need to fix something that wasn’t broken.

There was, of course, a part of him that worried he wasn’t innovative enough to maintain the momentum his father had built for the firm. If forced to Vladimir would admit that the prospect sometimes kept him up at night - but he had never been the kind of man to divulge his insecurities. His problems were his own, and the only people who knew about them were far too sensitive to his moods to mention them aloud.

Sometimes, Vladimir wondered what people saw when they looked at him. When he gazed into the mirror, he never saw anything extraordinary. That wasn’t to say that he didn’t take pride in what he did, or in his position as a Kensley, but he was far from believing that he had the world at his beck and call. According to his father, by this point in his life, he should have been beating woman off with a stick, but Vlad almost never found the wherewithal to even address most women. He knew what they wanted, and refused to let a bad experience taint the possibility of finding actual affection.

Not that a mate was very high on his list of priorities.

For Vlad, the most important thing was making sure that his father’s legacy remained ironclad. Jackson’s was a heavy reputation to try and live up to.

You haven’t even had breakfast yet and you already look worried about something. His mother was and always had been abnormally perceptive. As she set a plate of eggs and bacon in front of him at the breakfast table, her greeting made him frown.

Good morning to you too, Mom.

Across the table from him, Toshiro smirked over his coffee. It was something along the lines of what he would have said, but Olivia Kensley never pulled her punches.

Even at sixty-five - and before most people were up for the day -she was an elegant woman, with light blonde hair that had gone almost completely gray and kind green eyes. When Vlad was younger, those eyes had never been judgmental or angry, even when he did things he knew must have displeased her. Now, even though he was certain she meant for him to talk about his concerns, her gaze wasn’t intimidating. Rather, she simply gazed at him expectantly as she poured herself a cup of coffee.

Vlad blew out a breath, looking from her to his brother and then back again. He didn’t know which of them was worse when it came to prying. He thought he might prefer his other brothers’ light teasing to this kind of mental undressing.

I’m not worried. His first line of defense was always a good offence - not that it usually worked.

You’ve always been a bad liar, darling. Olivia answered breezily, coming to sit next to him. Once she put her coffee down, Vlad automatically added a bit of cream and two sugars - he knew how she liked it, and he wasn’t about to disrespect her, even if she was interrogating him.  You’re supposed to be on vacation, aren’t you?

No such thing for Vlad. Shiro commented off-handedly. As their mother had taken over the questioning, he was now only casually vested in the conversation, reading over a Japanese newspaper carefully. Vladimir scowled at him. He supposed he should be happy they weren’t ganging up on him, but this was almost as bad.

I’m always on call, he returned, as diplomatically as he could, I can’t be out of touch. There might be an emergency.

You’re good at what you do, Vladimir. Olivia returned warmly, taking an indulgent sip of her coffee as she smiled at him. I can hardly imagine the people under you can’t deal with a minor issue or two in your absence.

That, Vlad wanted to insist, wasn’t the point. There were few people he trusted besides himself to be able to clean up if things got really messy; and the last thing he wanted was his father to get wind of anything that went amiss. You should really try to relax, darling. You’re always so tense. His mother patted his shoulder gently and, despite his best intentions, Vlad found some of the stress seeping from him. Being around his mother had that effect on him.

No matter how wound up he was, her gentle suggestion was enough for him to start cycling down - it was ingrained in him. Vladimir took a deep breath before expelling it slowly, and Olivia beamed. That’s it. Should I add some whiskey to your coffee? Would that help?

Vlad snorted. It’s nine in the morning. I think I can do without.

I’d like some. Shiro held out his cup with a grin. It’s never too early for a pick-me-up.

Olivia laughed, rising from her seat to putter through the kitchen, on the prowl for the bottle of whiskey her husband always kept close at hand. Jackson Kensley was incredibly fond of Scottish whiskey and there had never been a time - at least, not in Vlad’s memory - that there wasn’t a bottle or two present in their household.

When he was seventeen and Alistair was nineteen, they’d stolen one from their father’s study and gotten ridiculously drunk. Their mother, ever practical, had announced that their half a day of retching was more than adequate punishment and left it at that. Since then, Vlad had learned to be more cautious with alcohol. Even these days, he didn’t consume much unless it was a special occasion, and even then, never to excess.

His brother Ethan would argue that it was part of Vlad’s methodological personality pattern - getting drunk would, of course, interfere with his lucidity. He wouldn’t be able to worry, and worrying, as they all knew, was what Vladimir Kensley lived for.

While Olivia was pouring a generous dollop of whiskey into Shiro’s coffee, the steady thud of their father’s walking stick announced that he had finally finished his morning walk. Vlad looked up to find the older man - still surprisingly spry for his age - making his way in through the back door, waving off the help of the gardener with a scowl. It was inevitable that one of the staff always tried to help him finish his circuit of the grounds when he appeared to slow down, but Jackson Kensley would have none of it.

As far as he was concerned, the only time he would need someone to help him with his daily exercise was when he was dead - and Vlad had no issue visualizing a number of pallbearers carrying his father’s casket in a circuit around the Manor as he urged them on from the afterlife.

That was the kind of man Jackson Kensley was - fiercely independent - a slave to his routine. In that aspect, he was a lot like his son - but Jackson had always been far more adventurous. What’s all this tension at the kitchen table? Jackson thundered, setting aside his walking stick to ease down in the seat next to Toshiro. It’s too early for such nonsense.

I agree entirely. Vlad piped up, nodding in relief. Toshiro merely smiled knowingly, taking a bite of his toast.

Morning Otou.

Morning to you too. With a bright smile, Olivia rose to peck her husband on the cheek before bustling to get his breakfast. By this time, the housekeeper had learned to get out of her way when it came to such things. While Olivia wasn’t opposed to having a couple of meals a week cooked for her, she vastly preferred to run her own house - with Isabella scurrying around in the background to do as much as she possibly could. It wasn’t that their mother and Isabella didn’t get along - quite the contrary in fact. Olivia was always trying to get the woman to take paid vacations, which Isabella refused as if someone had insulted her validity as a person. She had probably learned that from Olivia herself.

It was quite the interesting dynamic, to be sure. Are they already hassling you this early in the morning, Vladimir? It was if Jackson had a sixth sense. He always seemed to know what was going on before he entered a room.

While he had been glad of the interventions when he was younger, Vladimir now found them slightly embarrassing. He was more than old enough to be able to fend for himself.

Everything’s fine. He took a sip of his own coffee, casting both Shiro and his mother warning looks. If he was supposed to be here on vacation, then hopefully they could be kind enough to keep any conflict from arising.

Bullshit. Vlad nearly spit out his coffee at his father’s profession. You’re supposed to be here on vacation and they’re hassling you. Lay off this boy, you hear?

Vladimir could have groaned. Instead, he busied himself staring at the table, hoping that his face wasn’t as red as it felt. He’s hardly a boy, Jackson. He’s thirty-five years old. Olivia replied, her smile amused.

Exactly. Which meant that this entire conversation was unwarranted.

All I’m saying, Olivia, is that you should give him some time to himself. God knows he worries enough without you lot worrying him about his worrying!

Jesus Christ. Spending time with his family always tended to be equal parts relaxing and exasperating- of course, this particular breakfast was rapidly turning into the latter.

I think I’m going to finish my coffee on the terrace. With that proclamation, Vlad rose from the table, leaning down briefly to peck his mother on the cheek. I’ll see you all in a bit. It was, he figured, the safest way to keep his dignity intact without worrying that he might say something he’d later regret.

It was times like these, Vlad mused, as he left the kitchen, when he wondered why he couldn’t relax with more ease. He lived to stress about one thing or the other, and without something on his docket, he felt ill-at-ease.

It had been that way for as long as Vlad could remember. Back in Russia, he always had to worry about feeding his family. His father had often been so deeply under the influence of alcohol that he could barely find food for himself, let alone his son or infant daughter. Even after Vita had been taken away from them by the government, his wife spent more time screaming at him to sober up than she did going food shopping - mostly because they usually didn’t have any money to do so.

Was it really such a surprise that he resorted to stealing? Vlad had always had a razor-sharp intellect, and he was ridiculously street-smart to boot - which meant that he never got caught.

Or, at least, almost never.

If he hadn’t had his run-in with the police at thirteen, however, he would never have met Jackson Kensley - and he wouldn’t be where he was now.

Of course, Vlad wasn’t always certain that he was cut out to be a Kensley. Even after over two decades, he was still uncertain of his place with them. Not as an adopted son, to be sure. He knew that his mother, father and brothers all loved him unconditionally. It was his father choosing him as head of the company that he questioned.

There had to be someone more qualified - someone who wouldn’t worry about every little miniscule detail…

You know, just because I tell them not to pester you doesn’t mean I don’t question what you’re thinking.

He looked over his shoulder, unsurprised to find that his father had followed him out onto the terrace and stood in the doorway, assessing his son with knowing eyes. At his piercing stare, Vladimir merely chuckled. You can assume it’s something to do with the business. You know I can’t ever really take a break from it.

One of the reasons I’m sure you’re best to replace me.

The words made Vlad blanch slightly as his father shut the door to venture out into the cool morning air with him. Because I’ll worry myself into an early grave?

No. With a small smile, Jackson curled a strong hand into his shoulder. Because a man who worries is always looking to improve himself.

Well, when you put it that way, it sounded almost noble. Vlad had to hand it to his father, he had a way of making everything more poetic. Hamlet would have had a field day with him. You know, you’ve done an incredible job with the firm. It’s doing better than ever under your management.

Vlad glanced at his father, his lips quirking slightly. All I’m doing is following your business models.

Which is perfectly fine. You’ll find your own stride soon, Vlad. I wish you wouldn’t put such pressure on yourself. You’re too smart for your own good. The statement made his son chuckle lowly, a bubble of humor chasing away the heaviness in his chest.

Never smart enough.

More than smart enough. Jackson ruffled his hair in a gesture that might have been more suited for a teenager than for a thirty-five year old man, but Vladimir found he didn’t mind. It was always reassuring when the architect of a multi-billionaire empire reassured you that you weren’t fucking up completely - and it didn’t hurt when said architect was your father. You know what might take the edge off for you?

Vlad swallowed a groan at the subject change. He knew what was coming. It was a conversation he might have expected to have with his mother, but Jackson Kensley seemed determined that all his sons should find the right women to be with; he had a tendency to play matchmaker that Vlad had done his best to avoid over the years.

Please don’t say a woman, Dad. He returned, as carefully as he could. I’ve got far too much on my plate right now to be concerned with something as trivial as dating.

Trivial? Shit. Now he’d done it. Do you know, son, that if it weren’t for your mother, there would be no Kensley enterprises? She believed in me when no one else would - gave me the courage to keep from losing my mind when I felt like everything was coming down around my ears. The right woman can make you see everything differently.

Yes, and the right woman could also distract him - leading to a disastrous mistake where one could be avoided.

It wasn’t as if Vlad didn’t like losing himself in a woman on occasion. Lord knew there were more than enough willing, gorgeous women throwing themselves at him in his position - he just didn’t think that any of them really wanted to burden themselves with everything that came with his job title. Sure, there was money and prestige - but Vlad had come to realize that neither of those things meant very much if he didn’t deserve them.

So he always worked to make sure he was deserving.

Dad, you know I would never demean the relationship between you and Mom. She’s an amazing woman. Vlad finally returned, eying his father seriously. But I have to be honest: Getting married is pretty low on my to-do list right now. Especially knowing… he trailed off, leaving the words unsaid. He didn’t like to consider what he knew was coming - especially considering how hard he was on himself as things were.

But Jackson was never one to shy away from the truth. He didn’t hesitate to finish his son’s sentence. That I’m retiring? He arched a brow, his expression surprised. Vladimir, you’re going to be a better CEO than I ever was - and I’m sure that you’ll realize it over the next year.

There was