Tempting the Badman (Russian Bratva #5)

by Hayley Faiman

  Maybe he’ll come home early tonight and try to talk about this with me, try to justify it or explain it away, or perhaps he’ll just pretend it never happened and expect me to get over it and move on. He knows I have nowhere to go, not with his child growing inside of me, and not with his ring on my finger.

  “Take me to the hospital, please,” I murmur as my eyes connect to Matvey’s. He nods and follows behind me as I leave the house.

  I watch Inessa walk out of my office. I feel as though I’m drowning in guilt. Not one part of me wants Alla, and here I am again, letting her possibly believe otherwise.

  Fucking Inessa, she tempts me to be this man that I’ve never imagined myself to be, this man who loves, who is faithful and true, and almost good. I don’t know that I can live up to any of that—but for Inessa, I want to try.

  Fuck.

  I walk over to where Alla is sitting in the living room, her chest jutting out, and a look of pure, unadulterated happiness on her face. She’ll be lucky to only have that look slapped off of her face, instead of one of my bullets lodged in her brain before I’m through with her.

  “When I tell you to go, you fucking go. It does not mean I want your mouth on me or your tongue down my throat. I’m not a client, Alla. I’m your goddamn boss,” I roar.

  “You just needed a reminder of all that I am,” she says proudly.

  I bend down slightly and wrap my hand around the front of her throat, picking her up so that her face and mine are just inches apart, squeezing her neck even harder.

  “I don’t need a reminder of anything from a whore,” I grind out. “Your job is to spread whatever part of your body a client requests. You aren’t paid to think. You aren’t paid for anything but your abilities to fuck. You ever attempt to come onto me without my requesting your services again, and I’ll kill you.”

  I let her fall to the ground, uncaring of if I’ve hurt her or not. The only thing I can think about is the look on Inessa’s face, the fact that she was covered in blood, and then the fact that I didn’t fucking answer an emergency notification because my head was shoved so far up my own ass I wasn’t thinking clearly.

  Inessa is undoubtedly mine, all of her. The fear I felt at the emergency notification, the look of complete raw hurt and devastation at finding Alla pressed against me—fuck, it’s enough to send me to my knees. I’m getting exactly what I wanted, a wife and a child, and I need to get it the fuck together. I know that baby is mine, I know that Inessa can be wholly mine as long as I give myself to her and show her the man she wishes me to be.

  I shake my head, trying to get myself together before I reach for my phone and make a call to Yakov.

  NEITHER MATVEY OR STAS say a word to me as we drive toward the hospital. I feel numb, but talking about what’s just happened will make it far too real, and I’ll cry. After the fourth call to my phone from Dominik, I power it down. Then he calls Stas.

  “It’s all good,” Stas murmurs.

  He should tell Dominik what happened today. He’ll probably get in trouble for not telling him, but right now, Matvey and Stas are being my friends—my Byki. They’ll probably talk to him once I’m no longer in earshot, but I appreciate their attempt at loyalty to me, at least to my face.

  Once we’re at the hospital, both men flank my sides and escort me to where Konstantin is in surgery. An update from Uncle Pavlov has confirmed that he’s alive, and hopefully soon he’ll be out of surgery and stable. He took two shots to the gut for me. I have to be here for him. I have to be here when he wakes.

  The hospital waiting room slowly fills with men and women, all the men in suits, and a few of the women dressed to the nines in fancy clothes. I scan the room and see Ashley. She’s sitting down, dressed much like me, wearing a wrap dress that shows off her baby bump exquisitely. When she sees me, she stands and hurries toward me.

  “I’ve been worried sick,” she cries as she throws her arms around me in a hug. I return her hug, holding her close and trying not to break down.

  “He saved my life,” I whisper.

  “Come and sit,” she murmurs as she breaks our hug and takes my hand, urging me to a chair.

  “Yakov just walked away. He’s talking to your uncle about Konstantin right now,” she informs me. I nod.

  “I thought I was going to die,” I whisper.

  “Where’s Dominik?” she asks, looking around.

  “His office. He doesn’t know. I went there to tell him, but there were naked women everywhere. He was kissing one. I don’t understand what he does, and I couldn’t be there and listen to him explain anything,” I say, unable to hold back.

  Ashley is the only friend I have, aside from Konstantin, Matty, and Stas. I’ve lived a life of solitude, enjoying being by myself. Now that I’ve got a few friends of my own, I understand why people are so loyal to theirs. This feeling of being able to unload on someone, of having a shoulder to cry on, it’s absolutely amazing.

  “Oh, the brothels,” she says, scrunching her nose. “He’s working there.”

  “The what?” I breathe.

  “You didn’t know,” she states.

  My eyes widen just as my heart begins to pound inside of my chest. He’s been fucking whores and then coming to me, unprotected, for months.

  “Oh, god, I’m going to be sick,” I announce before I stand and run toward the bathroom.

  I empty the contents of my stomach. The breakfast I ate comes up, and I end up dry heaving because I never did get lunch.

  I cry as I slide to the bathroom floor.

  I feel disgusting and dirty.

  My husband, my husband who I caught wrapped in the arms of a whore just moments ago has made me feel this way, and if I didn’t love him so damn much, I would hate him..

  I hear the door open and close, and not one, but two sets of shoes clicking against the tile as they head toward the stall I’m in.

  I’m sitting on the floor, which is probably just as disgusting as my husband’s dick. I shiver at the thought. At least this floor is only touching my clothes and not inside of me.

  “I brought a friend. Her name’s Oksana. Please, open the door and talk to us,” Ashley urges.

  I reach up and unlock the stall before she gently opens it. I look up and see a young woman, early twenties, standing next to her. She’s tall and thin, her long hair dirty blonde, and her blue eyes wide.

  “This is Pasha’s daughter, Oksana. She’s been raised in the organization as well. I thought you might like another friend,” Ashley whispers.

  “Thanks,” I shrug.

  “You’re married to Dominik,” Oksana says.

  I look up at her and notice that she’s got a shocked look on her face, as if she either can’t believe I’m married to Dominik or she’s surprised she said the words to me.

  “It’s not all it’s cracked up to be,” I grumble as I stand.

  Ashley helps me to my feet, and I walk past them and to the sink basin. I rinse my mouth out, and finally wash Konstantin’s blood from my hand, something I hadn’t realized was staining my skin. I then take a paper towel to blot my face.

  “Inessa—” Ashley begins.

  “He wouldn’t answer Stas’ emergency calls earlier today. I was almost killed, Konstantin was shot protecting me, and he wouldn’t answer. I forced Matvey to take me to his office, an office he refused to tell me the location of. I know why now. I walked into this house, women were just walking around in bras and panties, but when I walked into his actual office, he was wrapped around a woman. She was only wearing a G-string. He tried to offer me some kind of explanation, but his tongue was in her mouth, so I didn’t feel like listening to more bullshit.

  “He’s working in a whore house, which, whatever, but he doesn’t come home, and he had his tongue down her throat. I’m not naïve and I’m not stupid. I am, however, pregnant with his baby and married to him. I know there’s nowhere I can go and that he can do what he wants. I feel sick. He’s fucking whores and then coming to my bed. I kne
w when we were casual that he’d surely been with other women while being with me. I didn’t know they were professionals. I wouldn’t have accepted that. It feels dirty and wrong,” I ramble as my hands start to shake.

  Oksana looks like she’s about to be as sick as I already have been. She doesn’t say anything, though. Her wide eye expression says it all. She feels sorry for me. It’s okay. I not only feel disgusting, but I also feel sorry for myself, too.

  “Pchelka,” a deep voice rumbles through the door. Ashley’s head turns and I can see the instant happiness that floods her face. It’s so sweet.

  “Yakov,” she calls as she opens the door. I hear his deep voiced murmurs and then she says something back to him before she turns to me. “Konstantin is awake. He’s asking for you.”

  I nod, my feet moving as I follow her out of the bathroom, Oksana behind me. I see Yakov waiting with a grim smile.

  “Dominik is on his way here. He’s not happy,” Yakov announces. I ignore that little tidbit of information because I don’t care if Dominik isn’t happy right now.

  “Take me to Konstantin, please.”

  Yakov looks at me, assessing me for a second, and then nods before he lifts his chin and starts to walk. I ignore everybody as I follow him. Konstantin saved my life today. He took a bullet for me, and he’s asked to see me, which means he wants to make sure that I’m okay. I’m going to give him that peace of mind, because he’s my friend.

  “I don’t know if I’ll be able to hold him back once he’s here,” Yakov murmurs, his expression full of pity.

  He knows my husband fucks whores, he knows he was with one when I was being shot at, and he knows that I’m stuck with him.

  “That’s okay. I won’t fight with him. Not here. Not at all,” I whisper.

  “Don’t break,” he murmurs before he turns and leaves me.

  I hear those two words, don’t break, playing on a loop as I walk through Konstantin’s door. I won’t break, not again.

  That doesn’t mean that I’ll put up a fight, not with Dominik. Fighting with him is fruitless. I’ll just continue on with my life, pretending, playing the part he needs me to. I’m not sure I’ll ever be able to accept him in my bed again, though—not after what I’ve discovered today. So I won’t break, but I won’t be bending for him, either.

  “You’re okay,” Konstantin whispers as I step closer to the side of his bed.

  “Because you saved my life,” I murmur as I sit down and take his hand in mine. “Are you okay?”

  “Pavlov says I will be; but it will take time to heal,” he murmurs.

  “Thank you, Konstantin. Thank you for saving me,” I whisper.

  “It’s my job, kroshka,” he murmurs.

  “Thank you anyway. Job or not, you saved me.”

  I wipe a tear from my eye just as the door bursts open. Turning, I see Dominik glowering at us. I turn back to Konstantin and give him a sad smile.

  “I must go now, but I’ll be back tomorrow,” I murmur quietly.

  Konstantin doesn’t say a word. He closes his eyes and nods once. I turn away from him and walk up to my husband. Dominik wraps his hand around my bicep and drags me out of the room before he drags me through the waiting area.

  I find Ashley and try to give her a smile, but it comes off fake. I know she doesn’t buy it, given the look of concern she shoots back. Matvey and Stas stand and quickly walk toward us.

  “Stay. Keep me updated,” Dominik barks. They stand still, but both of their eyes slice over to me.

  I try to give them a smile as well, but my lips are trembling. I watch as both of their faces go hard before Dominik yanks on my arm and I almost fall down.

  He doesn’t stop his quick strides as I stumble behind him. He doesn’t stop at all until we reach his car and he opens the door, whipping me around and throwing me inside before he slams it closed.

  I sit silently next to Dominik as he drives to his apartment.

  Honestly, I don’t have anything to say to him.

  I don’t have to ask him why, because I know why. I’m not quite sure any man would turn down an immeasurable amount of sex with professionals, so who can blame him, right?

  He ignored my pleas of telling me where his office was because he knew he was in the wrong. He also didn’t want me to see it. He wanted to keep it all a secret, so that when he decided to come home, I would be loving, attentive, and welcoming toward him.

  Once Dominik parks, I slide out of the passenger seat and follow him to the elevator in the parking garage. We ride in silence; he never once looks at me. I’m thankful that I’ve yet to lease out my apartment, and grateful that everything but my clothes are still very much packed.

  Moving will be easy.

  When he opens the apartment door, I walk over the threshold and toward the bedroom. I’m hungry and exhausted, but right now, my anger trumps them all.

  “We’re talking,” he announces as he follows me.

  “Talk,” I shrug as I grab a suitcase. I’ll pack my things for tonight, and come back tomorrow for the rest.

  “You better not even pretend to set that suitcase down and start filling it,” he rumbles. If I weren’t so angry, hurt, and tired, I might be scared of him.

  I ignore him, but choose to leave my suitcase on the floor. I’m not going to push him right now. His anger is apparent. So I walk over to a chair and sit down, crossing my legs and folding my hands in my lap as I look up at him. Waiting.

  “You didn’t tell me what happened to you,” he states.

  “I didn’t,” I agree. “Because you didn’t seem to give much of a care about anything other than shoving your tongue down some hooker’s throat,” I counter. His face pales and he watches me, waiting for some kind of crazy reaction, I presume.

  “You should have told me. Fuck, you think I don’t fucking care that my wife was almost shot today?” he yells.

  “No, I really don’t,” I snort. “Your men tried to contact you, in more than one way, and you couldn’t be bothered to answer,” I point out.

  “I knew you had your doctor appointment. I thought you just wanted to talk about it. I have shit to do during the day. I can’t stop to talk about that,” I watch as his cheek twitches as his jaw clenches.

  The move makes me wonder if he has more to say, as if he’s trying to keep from telling me something else.

  “But you have time to fuck whores? Good to know,” I say with a nod.

  “Inessa, you came in at the wrong time. Nothing happened, nothing was going to happen,” he says.

  I guess I’m supposed to believe him, but I don’t.

  “In ten minutes, you weren’t going to be inside of her?” I ask, arching a brow.

  “Nyet, I was not.”

  “How many whores have you fucked before coming home to me, Dominik? Now I have to go get tested because you’re fucking hookers and I’ve been with you with no protection,” I cry out as my eyes fill with tears. “What if you gave me something? What if your baby has something?”

  Dominik makes quick work of striding over to me. He picks me up by the outside of my arms and moves so that his face is just an inch away from mine.

  “You do not have anything, Inessa. Our baby does not have anything. I’ve never fucked another woman bare, ever, only you,” he explains.

  “How many whores, Dominik?” I ask as my bottom lip trembles.

  “None for weeks—none for months,” he murmurs as his lips brush against mine.

  “That woman today?” I ask, pressing my hands against his chest and pushing.

  “One I’ve been with in the past. What you saw is everything that happened, Inessa.” He exhales as if this conversation is becoming tedious for him.

  “I don’t trust you,” I whisper, looking into his eyes. They’re shuttered, his emotions so hidden behind a thick wall. I don’t know if it’ll ever be broken down so that I can see the real him behind it.

  “I don’t care. I won’t argue with you about it. I’m telling you the t
ruth.”

  “I can’t be with you and not trust you, not with your office being where it is,” I whisper.

  “I knew you would blow it out of proportion. It’s why I didn’t tell you,” he grunts before taking a step back from me.

  I watch as he runs his hand through his longish hair and then drags it down his face in annoyance.

  “Trust takes time, yagodka,” he murmurs.

  “You haven’t given me a lot to trust, Nik,” I murmur before I ask, “Do you love me?”

  Here it is again. Inessa’s questions of love.

  “I don’t know what love is,” I try to explain.

  This is obviously not the answer she wants. She shakes her head and closes her eyes.

  Fuck, she almost died today—gunned down by none other than Ronan Kelly, the man who broke away from the Irish Mob and has been trying to strong arm us into leaving Staten Island so that he can take over. He’s dead now, thanks to Konstantin, but the threat isn’t completely gone, as his followers haven’t all been taken care of yet.

  A call to O’Neil confirmed that he would take care of the straggler followers of Kelly’s, but we’re on high alert until it’s done and handled. I asked him why Ronan would target Inessa, what does my woman have to do with his vendetta? O’Neil claimed he had no clue, only that Ronan was getting desperate and perhaps she was an easy target, as opposed to some of the other high ranking men’s wives. The questions still hang in the back of my mind, questions I may never get answered now that Ronan is dead.

  Pasha’s son is on his way from Denver to do his part in bringing the families together, in bringing the Russians and the Irish peace—his part being to sign a marriage contract for O’Neil’s teenage daughter. The contract has been agreed upon by both attorneys, and now is the time to sign, binding two families together by marriage.

  What I know about life, it has nothing to do with love—it has to do with loyalty, obedience, and protection. I supposed my parents could have loved me once, but I only remember the drugged out shells I lived with until I went to prison.