Bratva Addiction

by Coco Miller

  Bratva Addiction

  Russian Mafia Romance

  Coco Miller

  COCO MILLER ROMANCE

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  License Note

  This book is a work of fiction. Any similarity to real events, people, or places is entirely coincidental. All rights reserved. This book may not be reproduced or distributed in any format without the permission of the author, except in the case of brief quotations used for review.

  This book contains mature content, including graphic sex. Please do not continue reading if you are under the age of 18 or if this type of content is disturbing to you.

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  Contents

  Books By Coco

  Introduction

  1. Alegra

  2. Kazimir

  3. Alegra

  4. Kazimir

  5. Alegra

  6. Kazimir

  7. Alegra

  8. Kazimir

  9. Alegra

  10. Kazimir

  11. Alegra

  12. Kazimir

  13. Alegra

  Also By Coco Miller

  Books By Coco

  Big City Billionaires

  Faking For Mr. Pope

  Virgin Escort For Mr. Vaughn

  Pretending for Mr. Parker

  Red Bratva Billionaires

  MAXIM

  SERGEI

  VIKTOR

  The Overwatch Division

  WYATT

  ASA

  CESAR

  Andolini Crime Family

  CARMINE

  GIOVANNI

  UMBERTO

  Bound To The Billionaires

  Bound To Steele

  Bound To Gold

  Bound To Cobalt

  Bratva Debt Duet

  Bratva Addiction

  Bratva Redemption

  Introduction

  Darkness comes in many shapes, sizes, and colors. And mine came in a tailored suit with a thick Russian accent.

  I’m captive at the hands of a notorious man who’s a part of the Russian Bratva. My father owes them. And the only payment he can afford?

  Is me.

  So here I am, staring into the cold eyes of the enemy. Naively believing his every word. Stupidly falling for his seductive touch.

  He’s become my addiction. There’s no other way to explain it.

  But when the truth comes to light, I realize people don’t change.

  Darkness, while it changes forms.

  Never has good intentions.

  1

  Alegra

  “Oh, aren’t you just precious,” I croon at the pink nosed puppy as I pick it up.

  I found this little guy between the bushes of Church Street and Hope. It’s sad but it’s a common dumping ground for people to bring their dogs. It breaks my heart. Every morning I get up at six, a few hours before my classes start, and search the area for any abandoned dogs or cats. I even found a box full of hamsters one time.

  People truly are careless, thoughtless, and heartless. The way I see animals get treated only reaffirms my hesitance to get close to anyone. If people treat innocent animals this way, I can’t imagine how they would treat human beings. I don’t want to be a part of that. So I keep my distance.

  The puppy whines and shakes in my palm.

  “You’re okay, baby. You’re okay. I know it’s scary, but you’re safe now.”

  I place a kiss on top of his head and give him a look over. He is skinny and patches of hair are missing. It looks like mange. His little belly is swollen which means he probably has worms.

  It’s nothing my father and I can’t fix. I just hope we aren’t too late.

  I love animals. I have such a deep passion for taking care of them and it’s another reason why I’m going to school to be a veterinarian. I only have a few more months left before I graduate and I can help my dad at the clinic. It’s been a long eight years of school and I’m ready for it to be over. Focusing on school has been my entire life. I started some of my college classes in high school, and it’s the reason why I’m graduating earlier than everyone.

  I’ve had the same schedule since I can remember. I wake up, search for animals, go to school, and go to work. I do not party. I haven’t even ever been to a party, which also means I never have the time to access to anyone to date. Which also means I’m still a virgin at twenty−one years old.

  It isn’t a big deal. I’m only twenty−one. There is no rush to have sex, and to be honest the thought of dating men gives me anxiety. I’d rather just stay away. Plus, I’m not exactly a man’s dreamboat. I’m an animal nerd, a workaholic, and I’m short and thick everywhere.

  The puppy wiggles in my hold as I make my way back to car. It’s a dreary day. Thick clouds roll in the sky and the light drizzles pattering on my shoulders are only going to last a few more minutes. It’s going to downpour.

  It’s a good thing I wore my yellow raincoat.

  I open the door to my beat−up Honda Civic that’s seen more bad days than good and slide into the driver’s seat. After shutting the door, I wrap a towel around the puppy and use the soft edge to get the water out of his eyes.

  “It’s going to be okay. I know life has been hard, but it won’t be like this forever.”

  I’m not sure if I’m talking to the puppy or myself.

  I’ve noticed that my father has been acting different over the last few months, but he won’t talk to me about whatever it is. It’s obvious that the business is slowing down, but somehow we can still afford to pay the bills, so he must have a nest egg somewhere. I decided a few months ago not to worry about it and just continue to live my life. It’s all I can do, right?

  The puppy settles in my lap and lays his head on my lap. It warms my heart that he feels safe. He looks to be a mix between a pitbull and some type of labrador mix. He is adorable and I can’t wait to get him healthy for a nice family to adopt him.

  “Okay, buddy. It’s time to go.” I pat the top of his head and look in my rearview mirror to check for any oncoming traffic.

  And my rearview is face down again.

  “I really need to get this replaced, pup.”

  He lifts his head and whines at me as if he understands what I’m saying.

  When I fix my mirror, I see a big black SUV a few spots behind me with windows so dark, the only thing through their windshield I can see are the hands on the steering wheel. I bite my limp and wonder if I’m being paranoid about how ominious the truck looks.

  No, it’s fine. There are super dark SUV’s all over the city with tinted windows and mysterious men driving it. A small ridiculous laugh escapes me as I shake my head.

  “I need to stop watching those documentaries. They are making me jumpy,” I say to the pup in my lap.

  I turn on my blinker and check my side mirrors and my rear view again and pull out of the parking spot and get on the road. I forget all about the SUV and turn on the radio. I hum to one of the poppy hip-hop songs that have taken over and thump my fingers against the steering wheel.

  When I look the rearview again, I notice the black SUV a few cars behind me and now my breath catches in my throat. Are they following me?

  That’s ridiculous.

  Who am I? I haven’t done anything for anyone to follow me. I’m a straight A student. I never go out with people. I don’t owe mon
ey to anyone. I pay my freaking taxes. I’m an angel compared to some other people.

  Even as I try to convince myself that nothing is happening and I’m panicking for no reason, I take a sudden left turn to get off the road to see if the car will still follow me. It isn’t a good idea to come down this street. It’s isolated and surrounded by old buildings. No one would think to look for me here if something happened.

  “Nothing is going to happen,” I whisper to myself. “You’re freaking out for no reason.”

  The puppy in my lap starts to cry when he senses my anxiety. I try and sooth him by petting him and shushing him and eventually he quiets. There is nothing in the rearview mirror when I look for the SUV.

  Whew.

  I take a deep breath and when I bring my eyes to the road again, I have to slam on the breaks because the SUV is somehow blocking the street and a man wearing a tailored suit is standing in front of it. I hold onto the puppy as we jerk forward from the sudden loss of momentum. The tires squeal and the smell of burnt rubber fills the vents. I’m breathing hard at this point and tears sting my eyes.

  I don’t do well with fear. I’ve never had to be truly scared before. I’ve never had to fear for my life. And right now, I’ve never felt more threatened. My entire body starts to quiver and I bring the puppy to my chest and hold it to me tightly, afraid they will do something to him if they see the defenseless pup.

  The man in question is built like a brick house. Like muscle on top of muscle. Tall, formidable, and reminding me of a mountain. His head is shaved and he has on black sunglasses which is pointless since the sun isn’t out. He starts to walk toward me and I slam my hand down on the lock and close my eyes as nerves rack my body. I feel like I’m freezing. I can’t stop shaking.

  I shake my head as the man knocks on my window and a tear escapes down my cheek.

  “I am not going to hurt you, ledi. Please open the window so we can talk.” His thick heavy Russian accent makes my stomach roll.

  I debate on ignoring him and reversing down the street, but he may have a gun and I don’t want risk my life. With unsteady hands, I press the button that allows my window to roll down but only to crack it.

  He chuckles. “More, ledi.”

  I don’t know what that means, but I’m not sure I like it. I press the button again until the window is all the way down, but I still don’t look at him.

  “Do not cry. I do not like it when women cry.” He sounds sincere, but his accent gives the words a slight threatening tone. “Please, give me your eyes.”

  I stroke the puppies head, using the cute fragile life in my hands as an anchor. When I lift my eyes to the stranger, his sunglasses are off and he doesn’t look so intimidating. Although, I know better.

  “Cute dog,” he says and when he reaches inside, I flinch and lean away from him. “No need to fear me. I just want to pet the dog. I promise not to hurt you.”

  “It’s not me I’m worried about,” I say honestly. This puppy doesn’t deserve pain or abuse. I don’t either, but I’d rather it happen to me than the puppy.

  “I will not harm such a precious thing, please?” he asks.

  It seems out of nature for a man his size to ask for anything. I nod and the man’s thick fingers come inside the car again and scratch the puppies head. “I never get to pet puppies. He is cute. Handsome little guy.”

  “Why are you following me?” I want to get to the point. The more I’m around this man, the more frightened I become.

  He has cold, lifeless eyes with coloring similar to mine, and while his skin isn’t as dark as mine, it holds an unusually deep tint for someone Russian–although that’s probably very wrong of me say. This is the great melting pot. You can find almost any one of any race, creed or color in America. Plus, what do I know about what people are “supposed” to look like in Russia anyway?

  “I was wondering if you can get a message to your father.”

  My blood runs cold.

  “You know my father?”

  “You could say we have the same interest.”

  Again, ominious.

  “Please, give him this card. Tell him we are expecting his call.”

  He places his sunglasses back on his face and rubs his hand down his black tie.

  “It was nice meeting you, Alegra.”

  He knocks once on the hood of my car as he walks back to his SUV. The Russian man reverses and turns down the road in my direction and waves at me as he passes.

  I watch the blinker turn on and he takes a left on the street. Once he is out of sight, I let go of a breath I had no idea I was holding. The puppy gives me kisses on my chin and I eat up the love. I wipe my cheeks on my shoulder and blow out a raspberry to try relieve the tension in my face. I need to get going, but I can’t seem to move. My entire body is paralyzed with a mixture of fear, relief, and questions.

  I know everyone my father knows and there is no way I have met the man who followed me and came to my window. Taking a few deep breaths, my heart slows to its normal pace, and I lay the puppy back in my lap. Dammit, I’m going to be late for school now.

  The matte black card in my hand is smooth and when I flip it around to see who it is from, since the man never gave me his name, I don’t see anything. It’s just a plain black card with no writing on it. Whatever. If my dad knows what it is supposed to mean, then he can deal with it.

  I begin to drive only to slam on the breaks again when a thought enters my mind.

  I never told that man my name.

  How does he know it?

  2

  Kazimir

  “Did you talk to her?” I ask Vlad as I sort through the pictures on my desk, staring at the most beautiful woman I’ve ever seen in my entire life.

  “Da,” Vlad replies and nods. “She was scared of me. She had a puppy with her, cute little one. Looked sick.”

  Alegra is the daughter of the man that owes my family a lot of money. It isn’t smart to get involved with the Bratva if you cannot pay us back, but people get desperate and they think with every sad story we will bend our rules.

  We don’t care much for sad stories or sick puppies in this business. They do not pay the bills. But in almost every picture I have of her, she is holding a dog. She cares greatly for animals and it makes sense since her father owns a veterinary clinic. She’s been going to school to become a vet as well and from my records, she’s a very smart woman.

  Smart and beautiful and soft.

  Someone like Alegra is a dangerous combination.

  Her father has no idea that we have been keeping tabs on them since he borrowed fifty−thousand dollars from us. People do not think we keep tabs on what is owed to us but we keep track of everything here. If people owe us even a dollar, the first thing we do is keep surveillance on what matters most to them. In this case, it is Mark’s daughter, Alegra.

  Her lips bewitch me every time I study her photos. No, I do not study, I obsess. I know every single detail of her face. Her lips remind me of the ones on the dolls my grandmother used to collect before she died. They are perfectly plump with a divot at the top just under her nose to give her lips a sexy heart shape. Her eyes, fuck, it is her eyes that get me every time. Wide, amber colored, tiger-eyes, with thick eyelashes framing them. Her skin is the deep color of a caramel apple and it makes my sweet tooth throb painfully for a taste. Never in my life have I seen a woman so beautiful. She is the kind of woman a man makes into a wife.

  And a wife does not belong in this business.

  We are careful to never bring women into the Bratva. Well, we do our best not to. My father never had a wife because he hates the thought of a woman in harm’s way. A wife would be a liability. A weakness. We have too many enemies, so we try to keep what we hold dear to a minimum.

  I’m only alive because my father fucked one of the whores who used to hang around without a condom. She died giving birth to me. It was probably a blessing in disguise. My father would have felt the need to protect her. She would have bee
n a liability. I know it doesn’t sound like a picture perfect beginning to this world, but to me, my father has been an amazing role model. And while I have a life most would sneer at, it is a life I treasure.

  “She was so scared of me, Kazimir. She cried. I felt so bad. You know how I get when women cry.”

  Vlad is a man the size of a house but carries a heart made of clouds. He has a soft spot for women, softer than most, but I know when I need him to be, he can set the warm cuddly feelings aside and become the righthand man I need him to be.

  Cold.

  Ruthless.

  My fists clench under the heartwood desk, a species of wood found in Russia, and try to remain calm. “What did you do to upset her?” I feel oddly protective of this woman, a woman I have never met, but I know by looking at the pictures we are destined to meet.

  “Nothing. She noticed I was following her. She has good instincts, and when I cut her on the road, she got scared. Rightfully so, but I never would do anything to hurt her.”

  I take a deep breath, happy that he didn’t pull his gun out on her or something. It would have perfectly appropriate for him to do so, but for whatever reason, I don’t want her frightened like that.