I grab my pack of cigarettes and head outside. I’m still in my shirt, and my pants are pulled up, but my belt hangs undone at my waist. Looking out at the city lights, I wonder why on god’s green earth am I still under contract with Larisa when I want nothing to do with her?
I’m a Brigadier. I should be able to break this fucking thing with Larisa. Her family isn’t powerful or even that important. Her father isn’t higher ranking than me. He’s a Boyevik, a simple warrior. Though respected, Larisa holds no value to me, other than she’s been contracted to me for years.
I wonder, if the upheaval of breaking the contract is worth it. Do I really want Inessa for more than a bedmate? I could have her as a bedmate without breaking my contract. I could have her as a lover and still be married to Larisa. I can do as I wish, because not only am I a Brigadier, I’m a man. Neither woman could say shit to me about it, either. Neither one of them would have a choice in the matter.
My phone rings in my pocket, and I grunt before I answer it. Speak of the devil. It’s Oleg, Larisa’s father.
“In times of war, I would hope that the man who has contracted to marry my daughter would go through with it immediately,” he barks into the phone.
Oleg is another reason Larisa holds little appeal to me. He’s an overbearing asshole, allowing his daughter to become the spoiled little whore she is. He’s given her everything, and with it, zero boundaries.
“How about you don’t worry about what I do or don’t do,” I grunt before I end the call.
This cunt and her father aren’t worth the trouble that marriage would bring me. I’m not a man to be threatened, and he’s pushing my goddamned buttons. His whore of a daughter is not worthy to be my wife, which is why I haven’t committed to her in the first place.
This must end.
The guise of us eventually being married has gone on much too long.
It ends tomorrow. I have to figure out how to terminate the contract without getting myself killed by a pissed off father.
I finish my cigarette and make my way to bed. The room still smells of Inessa, her scent lingering, and I wonder how long I’ll have to suffer, smelling her without having her next to me.
I have to find a way to have her in my bed and keep her there—without the commitment and without making any promises.
I fall asleep and decide that tomorrow I’ll talk with Yakov about the contract, maybe even call Pasha and ask his opinion. Pasha is an extremely powerful Pakhan in Brighton Beach. If anybody will know what my limitations and options are, it will be him.
The next morning, I find myself waiting for Yakov in his office. I slept like shit, ran ten miles, and then lifted weights. Still, none of these things eased my anxiety or my frustration about my situation.
Now, I wait.
“What’s this then?” Yakov asks as he walks into his office, shutting the door behind him and sitting down across from me at his desk.
“What would happen if I wanted to break my contract for marriage?” I blurt out.
Yakov doesn’t show an ounce of surprise. In fact, he shows zero emotion at all whatsoever on his face. Then he nods.
“I was wondering when you would come to me with this,” he says, arching a brow. “Does this mean you’ve decided you want the real estate agent?”
I shake my head.
“I don’t want anybody. Not yet, at least.”
“It doesn’t work that way, Dominik, you know this. Unless Larisa Ivanova has shamed you in some way, the contract stays. That is, unless you wish to marry another, or she’s pregnant with your child. Only a few concessions can be made once the contract is signed. They aren’t easily terminated, and it is for a purpose,” he explains.
“No, Inessa isn’t pregnant. Larisa fucks a lot of men. I personally find that shameful,” I grunt. Yakov throws back his head in laughter.
“You, you find it shameful that she’s promiscuous?” he says between his fits of laughter.
“I find it shameful that the woman who is supposed to be my wife spreads for any man who even glances in her direction. I’ve had her watched for years, Yakov. She’d serve us better in the whorehouse than as my wife,” I explain. His eyes darken a touch before he nods.
“Well, Oleg won’t allow that, and we both know it. Her being a slut isn’t enough. I’m sorry, Dominik. Unless you impregnate Inessa before you get married, my hands are tied. You knew what you were doing when you signed the contract. You agreed to it, and you must abide by it. Oleg is becoming increasingly impatient, by the way. He wants me to put a time limit on you,” he explains.
“And you’ve said?” I ask, knowing that Yakov would give him an answer immediately.
I may be a close friend of his, and I may be a Brigadier, but Yakov is my boss, first and foremost. His alliance lies only with the Bratva.
“You have six months of freedom left. They start the wedding planning immediately,” he says somberly.
I can tell that he doesn’t want to make me do it, especially now that he knows I don’t desire it.
I nod.
“Keep Inessa on the side, have a family with her later on if you want to—after you have your first Bratva born child with Larisa, of course. Nothing says you can’t have both, if she is where your heart lies,” he urges, his voice gentle. He’s being my friend now.
“Inessa would never accept being the other woman,” I say with a shrug.
“Do you love her?”
I look at him, my friend who is so in love with his wife, Ashley, that if something were to happen to her, I don’t think he would survive it.
Do I feel that way about Inessa? Am I that intense about her? No, I don’t think so.
I want her in my bed; I want her to be there when I come home from work; I want to be inside of her; but I don’t know that I want her for more than her body, to be available for me when I desire it.
“If you’re thinking this hard, you don’t. You’re attracted to her, but my guess is—you don’t even know her,” Yakov suggests.
I nod again. My friend, my boss, he’s right.
“I want her,” I admit.
“Desire and love are not the same. You do this and you’ll be responsible for her, but you’ll also be responsible when you break her,” he says. I can tell he knows this from experience.
I thank him and leave his office, unsure if I’m going to try and reach out to Pasha or not. I have some thinking to do. I spend the rest of the day checking my spreadsheets, shift changes, and reports from the Byki. I don’t think about Larisa, the wedding, or Inessa. By the end of the day, I’m exhausted.
I pick up my phone and hold it in my hand. Stupidly, I send a text to Inessa. It’s two in the morning and she doesn’t respond. I then drink two glasses of vodka before I fall asleep in a chair in the living room. The bed doesn’t feel the same unless her smell lingers in the room.
I look like hell. Like complete and total hell. Underneath my eyes, my skin is red and puffy, my eyes are bloodshot, and I’m weak. I cancelled all of my appointments yesterday and texted Konstantin that I was not going to be leaving my apartment. I took the day off. I took the day off to cry and wallow all day.
I left Dominik’s apartment with zero intention of ever going back, and it hurt so much more than it should have. I don’t love him, but I want him. Until last night, I didn’t realize that a part of me needs him.
He’s not sweet and affectionate, but there are times he’s looked at me and I see something else working behind his eyes. I don’t know what, and maybe I’m just crazy, but I had hoped it was more—that he felt more for me.
In truth, he does want more from me. Though, what he wants, I can’t give him; or, at least, I can’t admit that I’m giving it to him. He wants me to be exclusive to him, to be his, but he makes no promises the other way. He wants me to accept the time he gives me, but not have me question what he’s doing when he’s not with me.
I have known since the beginning that he was doing what and whom he w
anted, but he wasn’t asking me about my comings and goings. Now that he’s started to demand more from me, I can’t do it. It’s asking too much. I’ll be completely obliterated by him the longer I stay.
This morning, when he texted me at two, I blocked his number. It took everything inside of me not to run to him, and I knew then that I couldn’t have his messages on my phone. I couldn’t make contacting him or being contacted by him an option.
A knock on my front door has me heaving a heavy sigh. I grab my purse and make my way toward the entryway. Looking out of the peephole, I see that it’s Konstantin. I open the door and step outside, feeling tired, even though the day hasn’t even begun.
I have five showings today, and then I have office work to do later in the afternoon. It’s going to be long and busy, but hopefully that means that I won’t have time to think about Dominik.
Konstantin doesn’t say anything. His hand on my back is warm and comforting, and I’m finding that, when he’s quiet, I enjoy his company immensely. I slide into the passenger seat of the car, buckling up. I then close my eyes tightly as Konstantin does the same before taking off.
“Talk to me,” he grunts after I’ve given him the address to the first showing.
“I’m fine,” I lie.
“Who is he?” he asks.
My head whips to the side in surprise only to find a smirk on his lips.
“It’s written all over you. Even the day I met you,” he chuckles as he takes the exit we need.
“Doesn’t matter. It’s over,” I shrug, trying to look nonchalant about it.
“Then he’s a fuckin’ idiot,” he announces.
“Who said he ended it?”
“Oh, I have no doubt you did, but he let you,” he murmurs.
“What does that mean?” I ask as we pull into the huge circular drive.
“It means that you’re gorgeous. You have one of the best bodies I’ve ever seen, and you’re cute, sweet and sometimes you can be funny. I can tell you’re a good woman, just in the short time I’ve known you. You don’t just let good women walk away without any kind of fight.”
I stare at Konstantin with my mouth wide open as he gets out of the car then jogs over to my side. I’m still gaping at him when he opens my door and holds his hand out for me. He grins and sinks his teeth into his bottom lip, yanking me close to him—so close that my chest brushes his.
“He’s a fool. But his loss is my gain. I’ll make you forget him, Inessa,” he murmurs against my ear.
My whole body shivers. It isn’t desire, but this man’s deep whisper would make a saint want to shed her clothes and ride him. He’s so freaking smooth.
“Not today you won’t,” I say, placing my hand on his chest as I look up at him.
His black eyes shimmer and his grin turns into a white, blindingly huge smile.
“No, not today. But when my cock’s inside of you and you’re screaming my name, he’ll be but a distant memory.”
I don’t get a chance to respond because my client pulls up and I have to get my shit together. I have a job to do, and that job is to show this ugly-as-shit, modern, contemporary home that’s as overpriced as it is hideous.
The rest of the day is as I had anticipated. Busy. I’m grateful for it. When I pour myself into bed, I realize that I have not thought about Dominik or Konstantin once.
Except, when I’m alone, tucked into bed and trying to find sleep, Dominik is the only thing on my mind. His touch, his face, his eyes, his body, and even his fantastic hair—they’re all I can think about. I fall asleep crying, again.
I wonder, not for the first time, when the ache will end. I lied to myself, telling myself he was nothing but a casual lover, so this shouldn’t hurt so damn bad.
IT’S BEEN TWO DAYS since I’ve laid eyes on Inessa. She refuses to answer my texts, and it’s starting to piss me off. She needs time, and I’ll give her some, but soon she’s going to have to come to me. When she does, shit is going to change. She won’t like it, but she’s going to accept it. She has no other choice—I’m not giving her one.
Luckily, I don’t have too much time to dwell on her and her lack of communication. I’ve been swamped. Thankfully, no more girls have been hurt. Now, we work on the second phase of taking down the Irish. We know that it isn’t the entire group, just a few select men who are trying to take down the man in power. They’re unpredictable because they’re ravenous for supremacy; they’re greedy, and very stupid, but their stupidity makes them no less threatening.
Today, I have to accompany Yakov and Pasha to another meeting with Patrick O’Neil, the boss for the Irish mob. It’s one of his men that’s gone rogue, trying to take him out of power and take us out of Staten Island all at the same time.
O’Neil has had a month to clean house. Obviously, his house isn’t quite clean. It’s time for us to wade in and assist.
“Hello,” O’Neil says somberly.
We dip our chins with respect. Patrick O’Neil deserves respect, not only for his place in his organization as a leader, but also because he is a fair leader. Though I assume that his fairness was part of the problem, since one of his men decided to rebel against him. Perhaps he’s not tough enough on them.
“Come, sit,” he offers, and we do.
“Things are uncertain and in upheaval,” Yakov announces. O’Neil nods.
“One of the reasons I called you here. We can’t find Ronan Kelly. The little bastard has gone underground,” he says, speaking of the man who betrayed him—the man who ordered the hit on Sonia.
“What do you need from us?” Pasha asks.
“I’ve found traitors amongst my men, and I’ve dealt with them accordingly. What I’ve not found is Kelly. He’s vanished, and I want him and the threat of him gone. I put a price on his head, and I’m extending that reward to your men as well,” he offers.
“How much?” Yakov asks, leaning back in his chair.
“Two million dollars, to the man who delivers the kill shot,” he announces.
“I will get the word out, but we also need something to forge this alliance between us once the man is brought to justice,” Yakov says.
“I agree,” O’Neil says with a nod.
“I hear you have a teenage daughter,” Pasha says with a lifted brow.
I watch as O’Neil pales before he nods. I can only imagine what he is thinking.
“I don’t know about your organization, but in mine, it is customary for marriage contracts to be formed when boys and girls are young. My son, Timofei, is twenty-three. He’s not ready to settle yet, but in a few years, it will need to happen. Your daughter, she’s fifteen now, correct?”
O’Neil visibly relaxes, but only slightly.
“You want a marriage contract between our children?” he asks. Pasha nods.
“Timofei will not choose his own bride, I’ve given him time as his mother wanted him to marry for love but he’s dragging his feet, and this will be good for our relationship, binding us and forcing us to work with each other instead of against each other,” Pasha explains.
O’Neil looks between us and then sighs before he shoots down the whiskey that’s in front of him. Then he looks up and nods once.
“I’ll agree to the marriage as long as the terms of the contract are suitable. We’ll need lawyers to draft it, and I’ll need my lawyers to approve it. This isn’t free reign. He won’t have full control over my daughter to use and abuse as he wishes, but he won’t be allowed to cast her to the side either,” O’Neil announces, his eyes boring into Pasha’s.
“That sounds fair. I can agree to that,” Pasha nods.
I watch as they shake hands, and Pasha says that his lawyer will send over documents in the next week.
“You’ll meet Timofei once we’ve come to a full agreement on the terms. He’s living in Denver, so when it is time to sign the papers, he’ll be here to do so,” Pasha explains.
O’Neil nods and rubs the back of his neck with his hand, probably worried about his
daughter, now betrothed to a Russian. He’s the son of an extremely powerful Russian, but a Russian nonetheless.
“I’ll send out word immediately about Kelly,” Yakov says as we all stand. O’Neil nods and gives a slight lift of his chin as a thanks, and we leave him alone.
This is not normal practice, I think as we walk to the car. I don’t know if a Russian has ever been in contract to marry a non-Russian. Usually, contracts are made between Russian families; sometimes, it’s to gain more power, but only through Russians. Like when Kirill and Tatyana were matched at a young age. Tatyana was vulnerable, being the daughter of one of the most powerful Pakhan. Her contract to Kirill gave him more power, but also it was up to him to protect her.
It makes me think of my own contract and how much I despise it, and Larisa. Now is the perfect opportunity to talk to Pasha about it as well.
“Can I talk to you for a moment?” I ask as we step out of the bar.
Pasha nods and, together, we walk away from the rest of the men.
“What is it, Dominik?” he asks, his voice laced with concern.
I look into his eyes. They’re still so fucking sad and depressed. It’s been weeks since Sonia was killed, though judging by his expression, it could be years and he’d still feel the pain in his entire being. It is tragic that two people who loved each other so wholly were ripped apart the way they were.
“Dom?” he urges.
“Right. I’m contracted to Larisa Ivanova. How do I end this?” I ask point blank.
“End it?”
“Yes, I don’t want to marry her,” I explain.
“I’m sorry, but there is really no way out of it.”
“Yakov mentioned if I got somebody else pregnant or if Larisa shames me in some way?” I ask hopefully.
“I hear you have a woman you’ve been seeing?” he asks, arching a brow. I shrug, because I’m not really seeing Inessa as much as I am fucking her. “I can understand your concern with Larisa Ivanova. I, too, would feel the same concerns if it were Timofei contracted to her. You have the option of her shaming you publicly, in front of another member, or with another member. Or you can knock up the girl you really want; but you’ll need to marry her, otherwise Oleg will cause a stir. The options are yours. I would act quickly if I were you.”
Tempting the Badman (Russian Bratva #5) Page 4