I care how Tati feels.
Part of me will always love her. She isn’t somebody that I have loved, she’s somebody I love—always. I just don’t know how to ever trust her again. I probably never will. And fuck, my anger—I’m afraid it will never leave me.
If I can’t let my anger with Tatyana go, there will never be more than a physical relationship between us. She’ll always hate me and I will always be indifferent to that hate. She’ll be miserable and I just won’t give a fuck.
“I was what?” Tati asks from behind me. I turn around.
She’s standing behind me and her face, fuck, it’s so damn pale. She looks sick. Ziven claps my shoulder murmuring an apology before he leaves us. Bastard. Now I’m standing in front of a very upset looking Tatyana. She looks beyond upset.
“You’ll know eventually. Your father and my father drafted contracts when you were eight and I was fourteen. We were betrothed,” I say.
I watch her, carefully taking in her confusion, which morphs into surprise. When she finally seeps into the feeling of betrayal, it’s apparent on her features—so apparent that I feel it in my gut.
“All this time, all those years ago, you knew?” she whispers.
“I did. I have known since I was fourteen. I agreed to the match,” I admit. Her brows furrow.
“You know my father, then?”
“I do,” I nod.
“You never loved me,” she breathes.
“Tati…” I reach out for her, but she turns and runs back into the house.
I take one step toward her, but the pizza delivery car is driving up, and I stop in my tracks. I wait for him to get out and hand me the boxes of grease. I pay him and tip him generously before sending him away. I hate pizza. Ziven knows this, yet this is what he ordered for dinner. The asshole.
I walk inside, but the house is silent as I set the boxes on the counter in the kitchen. I make my way to Kiska and knock on her opened door. She’s lying on top of her bed reading. She looks so much like a darker haired version of her mother, it makes me smile.
“Pizza is here,” I announce. She bounds up and rushes past me on the way to the kitchen.
I walk through the kitchen to the other side of the house where my bedroom is, looking for Tati. My bedroom door is locked and I knock before waiting for her answer.
“Yes?” she asks. I can hear that she’s been crying just based off of her voice alone.
“Your pizza has arrived, come and eat,” I murmur, trying not to be loud.
“No, thank you. I’m not hungry,” she says.
I don’t push her.
I don’t push it.
She’s hurting and it will take more than a few moments for her to move past the news she’s just heard.
Later tonight, she’s going to have to get over it. I’m not going to let her stew and put even more shit between us. It’s better this way. This needed to come out eventually. Now that it has, she can move on and get over it.
A CONTRACT.
Kirill has never loved me.
My whole adult life has been nothing but a lie.
I can’t stop the tears that stream down my cheeks at this discovery.
I unlock the bedroom door after I stand up from the floor. I am hurt, but not for the woman I am now. No, I’m hurt for the girl that was so head over heels in love with a man that was only with her out of some kind of obligation. A deal he made as a fourteen-year-old boy to gain some kind of power; he didn’t know me, he didn’t know anything about me.
I deicide to take a hot shower in hopes that I will feel better, and at least be able to sleep later. The hot water washes over my skin, and I ignore the way the water stings as it touches my body. I shave my legs and wash my hair, both with Kirill’s razor and shampoos. By the time I’m finished, I smell like him.
Apparently, torture is exactly what I’m into, because I feel like I’m in pain every time I breathe. Then I finish it off by slipping on a black button up shirt of his. I don’t know where my bags are, so I’m improvising until I can have them brought to me.
I step out of the bathroom and pause at the sight of Kirill. He’s looking out one of the floor to ceiling windows and turns to face me when he hears me gasp at his presence.
“We should talk,” he announces.
“No, thank you,” I say as I walk toward the bed.
I just want to sleep. I want to forget this day ever happened. Maybe tomorrow I’ll feel better about what I’ve learned. I doubt it, but maybe.
“I wasn’t really giving you a choice,” he grinds out.
I can tell he’s upset, but I don’t care. He doesn’t have the right to be angry with me, not about this.
“Talk then.” I wave my hand out as I slide between his soft sheets.
“The contract was many years ago, Tatyana. I didn’t know anything about you. I only knew you were eight years old and my papa told me it was a smart move for my future,” he explains.
I look straight ahead, listening to his words, taking them in—not giving a flying fuck what his excuses are. I trusted him. I loved him. He lied to me.
“Okay,” I mutter.
“No, Tati. Do not. Do not just sit there. Ask me whatever you wish, I’ll answer.”
“You knew when you bumped into me all those years ago on campus. You knew exactly who I was, and you lied. You pretended not to know who I was, you pursued me and I trusted you. I gave myself to you,” I murmur.
“You didn’t give anything, Tati. You were always mine to take,” he says gently.
“Okay,” I repeat my word from earlier.
I don’t know what else to say.
What else is there to say?
Kirill takes his clothes off and leaves them in a pile next to the bed before he joins me beneath the sheets. I’m not scared of him. Gone is the feeling of guilt. Now I am resigned. This was always meant to be my life; I just didn’t know it.
Kirill’s prisoner.
I feel his strong hand wrap around my hip as he pulls me further down the bed, my head bouncing on the soft pillow. Without a word, his fingers nimbly unbutton the shirt I’m wearing. Then he places his palm in the center of my chest and slides it down my body to cup my pussy. His lips are millimeters away from mine before he speaks.
“You have always been mine, Tati. You’ve known from the moment you met me that you were mine. Don’t let the technicalities bother you. How we came to be cannot matter, it only matters what we are,” he murmurs before his lips touch mine.
My entire body ignites when his tongue sweeps out and tastes my lips. I moan as I open my mouth and accept his tongue inside. His fingers fill my pussy as his tongue fills my mouth. I shiver in his arms, angry as hell, yet as always, I accept him. I fear that I always will. He will be my demise—my downfall.
“My beautiful, Tati,” he murmurs as he kisses down my jaw.
He seems so sweet. I know his sweetness will not last. He will change into the hard man I have seen these past days in an instant. But my legs spread for him anyway. His honey words melt me, and his cock fills me, making me feel wanted, needed, and beautiful all at the same time.
Kirill’s dark gray eyes meet mine once he’s seated completely inside of me. They are heated and sexy and full of emotion. I don’t know what he’s feeling, and I’m not sure I want to know.
Kirill’s fingers tangle in my hair, but instead of gripping it tightly and sending pain throughout my scalp, he just holds me. I want to cry. It feels like he’s making love to me, and I hate it.
I want him to actually love me.
I don’t think that he ever has, and it hurts.
I can’t stop the tears from leaking out of my eyes and onto the pillow beneath me. His nose skims the side of mine and his lips touch the corner of my mouth as he continues to slide in and out of my body slowly.
“I will take care of you, Tatyana. Always,” he murmurs against my ear as his movements speed up.
“I’m so angry with you,” I sob.
“You will be angry with me, Tati, as I am still very angry with you. But you are still mine,” he says before he grins.
“I hate that,” I breathlessly whisper right before my pussy clamps down around his cock and I come with a strangled cry.
Kirill doesn’t slow his movements. He continues to take me, fucking me through my orgasm. His hips crash against me with every powerful thrust until he comes deep inside of me with nothing more than a long groan. He stays inside of me and on top of me, his cock twitching and his face buried in my hair.
“You may hate it, but we will get through it,” he murmurs before he slides out of me.
I watch him walk to the bathroom, and a few moments later, he emerges with a cloth in his hand. I know what it is. He used to do this when we were first together and no way do I want that now.
To avoid him, I quickly stand and try to hurry by him to the bathroom. His hand snakes out and his fingers wrap around my wrist, halting me.
“I was coming to you,” he states looking into my eyes, a determined gaze fixed on his face.
“I can take of myself,” I murmur.
He doesn’t say anything, but I hear him mutter something under his breath. I choose to ignore him and continue into the bathroom, his shirt hanging off of my shoulders.
After I finish cleaning up, I go back to bed and find that he’s lying with his back propped up against the headboard and the sheet pulled up to his waist. He doesn’t turn his head or move a muscle as I climb into bed. I turn my back to him and settle down on my pillow, more than ready to get some damn sleep.
“You are surprised by what you’ve learned, Tati, but you need to accept that this was always meant to be your life. You are the fiancée of Kirill Baryshev, and I expect you to behave in such a way that is fitting for your position. I am not some little solider. I am a leader of hundreds of men, you will act accordingly,” he announces.
“Yes, sir,” I grind out. His hand wraps around my waist from behind, and his beard tickles my ear. I hide my reactions, or at least I try.
“You may say that anytime you wish, just make sure you’re ready to be fucked when you do. We can live peacefully, Tatyana, as a happy family; you need to let go of what you perceived was done wrong to you,” he states. I want to slap him.
“You need to let go of the past as well, Kirill,” I point out. He hums.
“What I did was never meant to cause you intentional pain. Hiding the fact that you were my betrothed didn’t hurt you in any way at all. You leaving and taking my child with you, that fucking gutted me. So no, I don’t think that I need to let go of a fucking thing,” he barks. I jump at his harsh tone and close my eyes tightly.
“I never intended to hurt you, Kirill. I was scared for my life. The things Agent Green told me terrified me. Maybe if I had known everything back then I wouldn’t have left. But you kept me in the dark.” I point out.
“Ten years, Tati. You’ll never justify that shit with an—I was scared.”
I don’t say another word.
If he wants to start a fight, he’s barking up the wrong tree.
He’s right. I have a place now, and it’s where I was always supposed to be, apparently. I’m not going to fight anything. Why make my life completely miserable when I can just try to keep it tolerable?
Kirill’s anger is justified, and I am so deeply sorry that I kept our child from him; but he can’t see my side of the situation, and he never will.
I hope that one day he’ll be able to forgive me, but I’m not a fool to think that it will be anytime soon.
Tatyana sleeps, yet I do not.
I haven’t slept throughout the night since before she left me. Nightmares usually woke me, if I could even fall asleep. Now that she’s back, I still cannot find the sleep I need. I look down at her lying next to me. Her hair is fanned out, a golden halo.
I have been so hurt and angry for so long, I’m not sure if I can change the way I feel now. I comprehend her feeling of betrayal toward me. I knew she would feel that way once she found out the truth of our arrangement. I had honestly hoped I had a while longer before I was forced to deal with it, like when I was already tired of her and moved on.
I hear her whimper in her sleep and thrash around a bit. I wonder what she dreams of, what her nightmares consist of. Are her nightmares of me? I have been moderately brutish toward her since finding her again. I should be nicer, but I can’t. I give up trying to sleep and leave the bed. Instead, I make my way toward my office and decide to do a bit of work.
“Kirill,” a sweet voice floats through the air and I sit straight up in my chair. I look around as my heart races and Tatyana is standing in front of me with two coffee cups in her hand.
“What time is it?” I grumble.
“Seven. Here, just the way you used to like it. I don’t know if your tastes have changed,” she murmurs, thrusting a coffee at me.
I take her in. She’s wearing tight legging pants and a tank top. She must have found the bag of hers that I brought in last night. I hate it. I liked her in my shirt better.
“Black with one sugar. I still take it the same, Tati,” I mutter, taking a second sip of the hot drink.
It surprises me that she remembered how I take my coffee; though, maybe it shouldn’t. I can still remember every detail about her.
“How long have you been down here?” she asks before she walks away and begins to examine my bookshelves.
“I came down last night,” I inform her. She hums.
“I don’t sleep well anymore either,” she admits.
“I have to go into my office today and then later I have some other business affairs to take care of. Sabina will be by with your new clothing items sometime today. Ziven will be watching after you until your Byki arrive.”
“I’d like to find a job,” she says, ignoring my words.
“Where? Doing what? You have no skills, Tatyana,” I say. I immediately regret it as I watch a look of sadness wash over her features.
“No, I never did get that degree in Classical Studies, Kirill. I’ll dance, just as I have been. You said it was acceptable.”
I want to take it back. The mother of my child and my fiancée should not be shaking her ass for dollar bills. But if she wants to do it, who am I to stop her?
As long as she comes home to my bed and my cock at the end of the night; as long as no other man touches her but me, why should I give a fuck what she does?
“Fine, yes, that’s fine,” I agree, taking another sip of coffee, trying to keep myself from forbidding her. I shouldn’t fucking care so damn much.
“Kiska also needs to be enrolled in school here, and her grades transferred over,” she says quietly.
The look of disappointment is still clear on her face. I want to sooth her, but I hate myself for feeling that way. I shouldn’t care a damn thing about her. She’s nothing but my property and a place to keep my dick wet.
Everything else, her feelings, her wants, and her desires, I shouldn’t give a damn about. But I do. I probably always will. She was once moyo zolotse—my gold. Unfortunately, I think I may always hold affection for her. I hate her and myself for it. Will her hold on me never end?
“I will get the process started. Kiska’s new school is private, so I will have to sign her up. They will not just let anybody in there,” I mutter as I click on my computer keyboard to look up the phone number.
“What does that mean—anybody?” she asks, sounding offended.
“It means the school is forty thousand dollars a year. It means they speak predominately Russian in the office, as it is set in the heart of the Russian community here. It means that Kiska will be surrounded by her peers—something your father sho
uld have done for you, then maybe this whole agreement you’re so pissed about wouldn’t have been such a fucking surprise,” I say harshly.
I then watch as her face goes from disappointment to simply wounded. I’ve hurt her, again. Except I don’t feel victorious. I feel like a shit.
“Okay, Kirill,” she says meekly. I hate it. I want her fight; I want that fight she had when I first arrived. I fucking loved it.
“You have a problem with my plan?” I ask, egging her on.
“No. If you want Kiska to be around your colleagues’ children, then that is where she should be.”
Tati leaves me sitting behind my desk, drinking my perfectly made coffee, and feeling like a total bastard. Only she could make me feel this way. Pissed off, angry, hurt, and guilty. I feel like I’m swimming in a sea of regret; like I’m drowning in it, waiting for the current to take me under.
KIRILL HAS PLANS. HE’S made them and he’s decided on them without my input or my opinion. I don’t mind him taking the reins and having control over his own household. He was always a man who enjoyed control, this is nothing new. It bothers me that he doesn’t even pretend to care for my opinion, though. Kiska is my child as well; decisions should be agreed upon.
I walk into the kitchen and start to make breakfast for everyone. Kirill doesn’t have much, but he has the makings for eggs and a can of store bought biscuits in his fridge. While I’m cooking, I can’t help my mind from wandering. He didn’t sleep in the bed with me. It makes me feel sad, and I hate that. I don’t want to feel anything, not when he’s made it painfully obvious that his only feelings toward me are anger and hate.
“Does papa have honey?” Kiska asks sleepily as she walks up to me and wraps her arms around my waist, burying her face in my side.
“I’m sure he does. He loves it on his biscuits as well,” I murmur. “Now, go find some plates for the three of us and set the table.”
I continue to cook the eggs as I try not to think about how much my daughter and her father are alike. They enjoy a lot of the same foods; they even make the same facial expressions. I used to love that, I used to enjoy seeing her take after him in her own way.
Dancing for the Badman (Russian Bratva Book 3) Page 9