Ignoring the pounding and yelling coming from him, I take a quick, hot shower, then style my hair and apply my makeup while I’m wrapped in a towel. Once I’m finished, I step out of the bathroom to find him glowering at me, fully dressed, his hair damp from his own shower. I have a guest bath, so I assume he popped in and showered in there. I honestly don’t care.
“Inessa,” he mutters as I walk into my closet and pull out a dress to wear for the day.
I’m wearing a white, capped sleeve dress that is cut high along my neckline. It has a big, navy blue piece of fabric that winds from below my arm, across the curve in my waist, and then down my thigh, to the end of the dress, which is tight to my knees. I slide my feet into a pair of navy blue high heels, grab my purse and my phone, and then start to walk toward the door.
“Stop,” Dominik shouts. My body stills. “You don’t ignore me. You aren’t allowed.”
If he were any other man, I would guffaw at his words. But he’s an angry Russian Bratva Brigadier, so I don’t. Instead, I turn around to face him, and I look up and into his gorgeous blue eyes. I’ll miss them; not as much as I’ll miss the way he feels when he’s inside of me, but I will miss his eyes just the same.
“I have to get to the office. I also have some showings later this afternoon,” I say flatly.
“Fine. You make your play, I’ll give it to you. Tomorrow night, you’re mine. I’ll be here and we’ll go over ground rules,” he announces.
“Tomorrow?” I ask, arching a brow.
“I have obligations tonight,” he says as he fishes his keys and his phone out of his pocket before he walks over to his briefcase.
“You have plans with Larisa?” I ask, knowing the answer. He looks at me, and there’s a bit of sadness in his eyes, mixed with twinge of guilt.
“I do. It doesn’t mean anything, but it’s something you’re going to have to accept as a reality—at least for now,” he says, sounding a bit ominous.
I don’t argue with him. It would be futile, since I don’t plan on ever seeing him again. He can think I’m going to accept what he says lying down, but I have another thing coming for him.
I refuse.
I am not his whore.
I never have been, and I never will be. I no longer accept him as a lover, so I refuse to even discuss his sick and twisted plans. I’m a good woman with a great career, and God blessed me with decent looks, so I don’t owe Dominik Markov a fucking thing.
“Shall we?” he asks, holding the door open for me.
I nod and walk out of my apartment. I halfway hope that Konstantin is waiting in the hall with a coffee, but he isn’t. Silently, Dominik drives me to my office. When he’s parked in front of my building, he turns to me, his hand cupping the side of my neck and his eyes completely focused on mine. He looks almost sweet, definitely more like the man I met a few months ago, and less like the angry man who was just in my living room.
“This will all work out, Inessa,” he murmurs as his thumb glides along my bottom lip.
If I didn’t know the truth, if I didn’t know that he was to be married in months and that he expected me to be his kept whore, if I didn’t know any of those things, if I just looked into his gorgeous eyes and believed him, I could fall in love—right here and right now.
“Okay,” I whisper.
He tips his lips in a smile and I swear my heart breaks into a million pieces, shattering completely inside of me at the sight. He presses his lips against mine, and then I smile, its fake as shit but I do it, as I leave to go inside of my building. I don’t cry as I do, knowing that I’ll never feel the same about another man—ever. But it doesn’t matter.
I can’t be what he wants me to be. I won’t allow myself to be used in that way. Uncle Pavlov raised me better than that. He taught me to always—always—respect myself. Staying with Dominik, no matter how much I want to, I know that I will never, could never, respect myself—ever.
“Inessa, are you all right?” my uncle asks into the phone.
“How quickly can this contract be made?” I ask, refusing to answer his question.
“I have a meeting with Yakov in an hour,” he says. I can hear him rustling around, most likely getting into his car.
“I want to be there,” I announce.
“This is not for you,” he says.
“Let me rephrase. I need to be there,” I urge.
I know when he’s relented because he exhales heavily and says that he’ll send me a text message with the address. Once I hang up the phone, I call Konstantin. He tries to ask me if I’m all right, too, but I refuse to answer him as well. I tell him where I’m going and that I need to be there in an hour. He’s only at the café down the street from my office, knowing that I had showings today, and also knowing that Dominik didn’t leave anybody with me. I thank him and tell him to meet me downstairs.
I’m not all right, though.
I’m not okay.
I probably never will be.
But I will survive. I just won’t degrade myself to do it.
I WATCH HER GO, aware that she’s waging a war inside of her head, knowing that I’ve got a bit of work to do to get her comfortable with the idea of her place in my life. She won’t be my mistress for long, but I can’t tell her that as I don’t have an exact timeframe.
Larisa will fuck up. I know she will. If she doesn’t before the wedding, then I can only hope by fucking Inessa without protection, she’ll somehow yield a baby before the wedding.
I drive toward the whore house. Unfortunately, I have to work here today. The girls are getting restless with the extra security, and I need to talk a few of them down off of the ledge. I also need to look at Manya’s schedule to make sure all the girls are getting their fair share of clients. She tends to give her favorite girls the better clients, and more of them, if I don’t keep her in check.
Today and tonight are going to be filled with whiney, bitchy, selfish women—Larisa included. I wish it were over. It makes me appreciate the woman that Inessa is. She’s strong, independent, yet definitely not a bitch. She’s soft and sweet as she is strong. I’m drawn to her, and I won’t lose her because of a decision I made when I was a punk-assed fourteen-year-old.
I don’t bother checking in at reception as I make my way to the elevator. I know where I’m going, and if I even pause, I might just lose my nerve. Konstantin stands at my side silently, and I’m glad for it. He hasn’t said much, but his flirty looks are gone, and I can see the worry clearly etched on his face.
“Are you sure this is what you want?” he finally speaks as I walk toward Yakov’s office.
“No,” I admit as I stop and turn to him. “It doesn’t matter what I want. Dominik isn’t going to give me a choice. At least this way, I’m making my own decision.”
Konstantin nods and then steps toward the door and opens it for me. I look up to him in question and he shakes his head once.
“Do what you need to do to keep yourself safe, but also be happy,” he murmurs. I see that this man, he’s a good man.
Konstantin is a flirt, maybe he’s a manwhore too, but deep down, he’s a good man. That gives me hope that maybe, just maybe, I’ll find a good man during this meeting with Mr. Chekov.
When I walk inside of the office, I see Uncle Pavlov standing in the middle of the room, but also a man with dark hair and a full beard sitting at a desk. He’s the man I sold a Tutor home to a while ago—him and his then fiancée. Judging by the ring he wears, she’s his wife now.
I wonder if it’s a requirement for these Bratva men to be so devilishly handsome?
“Inessa Kozlova,” he mutters, dipping his chin slightly.
“Yes, sir,” I say with a smile.
“Call me Yakov,” he chuckles before stretching out his palm toward a chair.
Uncle Pavlov gives me a hug and a kiss on my cheek before he sits down in the chair next to mine.
“You’ve asked for this meeting, Dr. Pavlov, and now I know it has something to do w
ith your Inessa,” he announces.
“With the uncertainty surrounding the organization, I would like to ensure Inessa’s safety,” my uncle begins.
“She has a Byki, correct?” Yakov interrupts.
“Yes, but I would like to ensure a more permanent safety measure is in place,” he says, tiptoeing around the subject.
“Marriage. I need to be married,” I announce.
“Married?” Yakov asks as his eyes take me in.
“Married,” I nod.
“You’re a bit older than most of the girls who have contracts drawn. As I understand it, you had one once?”
“I did,” I agree.
“This could prove difficult. Normally, if a woman is of your age and this circumstance, she’s on her own. Unless, of course, her father holds a great deal of power. Yours did not; and although Dr. Pavlov is extremely important, there would be no gain in a man choosing you,” he explains. I nod, my throat suddenly very thick, and I try as hard as I can not to cry—again. “However, you’re very beautiful, so it may not be too difficult.”
“The sooner the better,” I whisper.
“Pavlov, leave us alone for a moment, please,” he suggests. Though, it is not so much a suggestion as an order.
My uncle stands, his hand wrapping around my shoulder, giving me a gentle squeeze before he walks out of the door. I can’t watch him. I’m pinned by Yakov’s knowing and penetrating gaze.
“Dominik has done something to you,” he says.
“He wants what I refuse to give him.”
“A child?” he asks, raising a brow.
“He mentioned children, but he never asked me for any. No, he wants me to be his whore, and he refused to accept my answer as a firm no. I can’t be that,” I whisper the last words, trying to keep it together.
“So you wish to marry someone else, instead of being his mistress?” he asks, obviously making me clarify completely.
“I don’t want to be any man’s mistress. I think that my Uncle would not wish that for me, and I do not wish it on myself, no matter who the man is.”
“You realize that this arranged marriage, it could mean that whoever chooses you could have his own mistress?”
“It’s a possibility, but it isn’t certain,” I nod.
“I’ve put your name out there, and I’ve received some inquiries. I wanted to show you your options, if you were open to it?. There are a few men looking for wives, but not many. Most are in contract before they’re eighteen,” he explains as he stands.
Yakov walks over to me with an iPad in his hand and places it in my lap. There are five pictures on the screen. None are nearly as hot as Yakov, Dominik, or Konstantin. Only one is under the age of fifty. I blink, trying to hold back the tears.
“If marrying you would give them some kind of reward, some kind of power, then you would have many more options. I’m sorry, Inessa. I think you’re absolutely lovely, as do most men, I can assure you. But these matches are not made solely based off of looks,” he says.
His voice is so tender and gentle, I wonder if this is the way he talks to his sweet wife, Ashley. If it is, I can see why she clearly adores him so much.
I click on the photo of the only man under fifty years old. He’s thirty-eight, widowed with five children. He’s about forty pounds overweight, with a potbelly. His hair looks greasy, and he’s got a cigarette hanging out from between his lips, along with pockmarks on his face. He’s gross. I hand the iPad back to Yakov, completely disheartened.
“I have no other choice then, do I?”
“Dominik will keep you protected. He’ll ensure your safety,” he urges quietly.
I close my eyes and drop my head, along with my shoulders, all in defeat. Then after I’ve felt sorry for myself for a moment, I lift my head and look Yakov in the eyes.
“I don’t want Dominik’s protection. I don’t want any protection. Please, take me off of whatever list you have. I’m done,” I announce as I stand.
“Inessa, you’re vulnerable. Whatever is between you personally, think of your safety.”
“I’m not selling my body for safety. It isn’t worth it,” I announce as I turn to leave.
Yakov calls my name once I’m at the door. I freeze, waiting for him to speak. When he doesn’t, I turn to face him.
“You’re a very strong woman. I can see why Dominik cares for you so,” he says softly. I open my mouth to speak, but he continues, so I snap my lips closed. “Don’t be foolish because you’re angry with him. In the end, all that should matter is how you feel about him when you’re alone. Nothing else.”
“Except for the fact that when he’s not with me, he’ll be fucking someone else and creating a life, a family, and a home with her.”
I don’t let Yakov defend Dominik’s actions. There’s no reason to. It’s obvious that this whole contract thing was a farce. Dominik knew my uncle had set this meeting up. There’s no way that those men are my only options for a contract. No way in hell. I walk over to my uncle, who is pacing, and I place my hand on his forearm.
“Is everything okay?” he asks with a furrowed brow.
“I’ll be fine. But there were no men suitable who want me. I’m too old and my name holds nothing desirable to make my age acceptable,” I admit. His eyes show deep and sudden sadness, and it makes my heart hurt.
“We’ll figure something out,” he whispers.
“You won’t do any such thing. I’m a big girl, and its time I take care of things myself,” I say softly.
“Inessa,” he murmurs.
“You’ve taken care of me since I was five-years old. I need to do this,” I say with a small smile tipping my lips.
“I’m here, always,” he whispers. I wrap my arms around his shoulders in a hug before I kiss his cheek.
“I love you,” I whisper in his ear. He squeezes me just a little tighter.
“I love you, too,” he says. I can hear his voice thicken with the words.
I release him and walk away. Konstantin is waiting for me downstairs, and its time for me to figure out my life. Obviously, I’m not getting married tomorrow, or anytime soon, but that just means that I have a fight with Dominik on my hands that I refuse to give up. He’s not going to use me, to keep me in the shadows for his enjoyment while he parades his bride around.
“Everything go as planned?” Konstantin asks as I approach him.
“No. I need a plan B,” I admit. “But I have to show three houses this afternoon, so my plans will just have to wait.”
It’s never a good thing when your Pakhan calls, demands you come to his office immediately, and does this in a clipped tone—in Russian. I leave Manya and tell her that I’ll return the next morning to continue looking over her schedule and her books. I lie. I’ll be back this evening. There are a few discrepancies that I don’t like.
“Keep an eye out,” I say to the Byki who will be there for the rest of the night. He nods and his eyes slice over to Manya.
I slide onto the plush leather seat of my Audi R8, and I race down the street. I love this car. The speed, the sleek lines—it’s sexy as fuck. It takes me a while to make my way toward Yakov’s office; the traffic is shit, and so is my mood.
I’m still thinking about Inessa, the pain on her face when she realized I am engaged, and then how it sliced right through her when I informed her of continuing our relationship and how that would happen. I broke a part of her last night, and then again this morning. I broke this piece of her, yet I cannot let her go. I’m a fuck. A complete and total fuck. I do not deserve her, not one bit of her.
I jog down the hall to Yakov’s office once I’ve exited the elevator, and I walk right into his room, closing the door behind me. Without even looking around, I go to the chair in front of his desk. I sink down before I lift my face to meet his eyes.
His face is hard, his jaw clenched, and his eyes are staring at me in a way where I know he’s livid. I don’t know that I’ve ever actually seen him this mad before. I sit up
a little straighter, wondering what the fuck has happened.
“I had a visitor today. Two, actually,” he begins. “Dr. Pavlov and his beautiful, adopted daughter, Inessa.”
I stare at him. I should be shocked by his account, I suppose, but I’m not. I knew it was coming, but I didn’t anticipate Inessa would join in on this meeting. I am surprised that she was in attendance. I don’t speak, though. He has more to say; and judging by the stiffness in his body, I’m not going to like it.
“I showed her five options of men. All of which I knew she wouldn’t want. How come I don’t feel good about doing that to her and all for you?” he asks.
“She’ll warm up to the idea of being mine,” I shrug.
“Her father was a Brigadier. Her mother was a daughter of a very important Obshchak. She is not nobody. She was important enough to catch the eye of Gregori when she was just a girl. What you’ve asked me to do, as a friend, I did not feel good doing. If you were just my Brigadier, not my friend, I would tell you to fuck off right now—I still might.”
I stare at him before I nod and look down at my shoes, unsure of how to proceed.
“Dr. Pavlov is not only a doctor, but he is trusted. I have trusted him with the emotional and physical wellbeing of my Ashley, and this, what I’m doing for you, is not something I would wish him to do to me. In fact, I would kill him over it.”
“Yakov,” I start, but his eyes narrow on me.
“Fix this shit. Fucking fix it and stop being a little cunt about it,” he barks. “Get the fuck out.”
I don’t say another word. Having somebody that is two years younger than me call me a little cunt, stings. I stand and walk out of his office, wondering what the fuck just happened. I’ve seen Yakov pissed, I’ve seen him angry, and I’ve seen him genuinely not give a shit, but I’ve never seen him—disappointed. That is exactly what he was, too.
Clearly, I’ve disappointed him in the way I’ve handled Inessa and Larisa.
Tempting the Badman (Russian Bratva #5) Page 7