Dancing for the Badman (Russian Bratva Book 3)

by Hayley Faiman

  I stare at him in surprise before I smile.

  “Seduce you?” I ask.

  “Yes. You’d be surprised how many women really want me, Tati. I’m a hot commodity.”

  I don’t doubt it. Truly, I don’t. Women love men with money and power—Kirill has that in spades. Instead of responding to his obvious pat on the back, I take his coffee and thrust it against his chest.

  “Mr. Wonderful, your coffee,” I mutter.

  “I am wonderful, aren’t I?” he asks almost wistfully.

  This, this is what I remembered about my Kirill from all of those years ago. His humor. Though dry most of the time, he did like to play a bit when nobody else was around.

  I always liked that about him—serious with the rest of the world, yet always a soft smile and a joke just for me. It made me feel special, like I was the only person who saw it; like he reserved it just for me. I missed it. I had missed it so much, and now I finally have it back. I never want to lose it.

  I perch myself on the edge of his desk as he settles down and begins to eat his eggs, bacon and toast that I brought in with me. One of his hands slides up my outer thigh as he eats. He doesn’t say anything and his hand doesn’t move from my thigh, but his eyes are focused on me. Completely and totally.

  “I still want to be so angry with you, Tati,” he murmurs between bites. “I don’t know that it will ever go away, this feeling of hurt, betrayal, and anger. Maybe it will always be between us, but I’m willing to let my destructive behavior go because it does us no good to be at each other’s throats all of the time. We both care for one another, otherwise neither of us would give a fuck what we’re doing,” he announces.

  It feels like my breath is being sucked from my lungs. I care for him, indeed—I love him.

  I look down at my lap, unable to look him in the eyes. If I do, he’ll see the truth shining in them, big, bright, and completely telling—no screaming.

  I am hopelessly in love with this man.

  Every fucked up piece of him, every beautiful piece of him, and every single inch of him.

  “Tati?” he asks, breaking me of my thought. I look up at him and watch as his eyes soften. “You care for me, yeah?” he asks as his hand cups my cheek. I suck in a breath when his thumb caresses my bottom lip.

  “Always, Kirill. Time has not done a thing to make my feelings waiver for you,” I admit.

  “My cruelness toward you didn’t make them lessen?” he asks, his thumb pressing against my bottom lip while his fingers dig into my cheek.

  His actions aren’t to hurt me. I can see the shock and awe in his features. His mouth is slightly agape and his eyes are wide and surprised.

  “I love you, Kirill. I was so scared and so very stupid all those years ago, but my love for you never wavered. You’re the man that was meant for me. We’re fated, like I said last night. Completely and totally meant only for each other,” I murmur against his thumb.

  I gasp when his hands quickly wrap around my waist and he pulls me onto his lap. His mouth is immediately pressed to mine in a hard, bruising, owning kiss. He’s taking, taking and taking, and I’m letting him.

  Relishing in the feeling of his lips on mine, his fingers digging into my waist and his tongue invading my mouth, I moan and push my chest against his, wanting more from him. I want it all, every single piece of him. His good, bad, and ugly. I’ll take it all because when it’s good between us, it’s fucking phenomenal.

  “I need to work today, Tati, then I’ll take you to meet my men and their families,” he announces. I want to stay.

  I want more kisses and more—everything from him.

  Begrudgingly, I leave him alone and change into a swim suit. I ask Kiska to join me, and together we swim all morning and into the afternoon, only breaking when Kirill calls us inside for lunch.

  Then, we both have to start getting ready for this dinner party of his. I’m excited, giddy even, to meet the people that he calls friends. They must be that to him, or he would not have insisted we meet in one of their homes for a private dinner party.

  I WAIT FOR MY girls to join me. My girls. The thought alone brings a smile to my face. A family wasn’t necessarily something I had ever dreamed of. Tatyana as legally mine was. But a family? Not so much. I had always assumed Tati would have a few babies, but I didn’t really think about my role as their father.

  My father wasn’t part of my life until I was ready to start working in the Bratva. We seldom saw the man. He was gone in the mornings before we woke up, and didn’t arrive until after we were fast asleep. Later in life, I found out that he hardly came home at all. He was busy with work and his whores, leaving my mother with a heavy pocketbook but very lonely.

  After he retired from his official job in the organization, he and my mother moved away to Arizona, where they now reside. They seem to be happy now, though I don’t talk to them as often as I should.

  Women in our lives are not allowed their freedoms once they are officially ours. If my father didn’t want her, he would do exactly as he had done—make appearances, but fuck and live with mistresses. My mother was always a kind woman. Though her younger years had not been easy, it seems as though my father may be making up for his misgivings during the second half of their lives.

  I don’t want to treat Tati that way. I thought I could. Fuck, I was dangerously close to turning into my father, a man I swore I would never emulate when it came to women. Yet there I was, so fucking close. I even hit her. I can only hope that her words of love are true, that she can forgive me, that we can move on.

  “We’re ready,” Kiska calls out as she walks into the living area.

  I’m sitting in the living room drinking a water, because I have precious cargo to drive around tonight. As much as I want a vodka, I can’t.

  Kiska is smiling widely and I can’t believe how grown up she is, nine years old going on thirty. She’s wearing a dark green dress that goes down to her knees, which makes her dark brown hair stand out even more.

  “You look lovely,” I compliment. She smiles widely.

  Then, all breath leaves me as my krushka walks into the room. I automatically stand, as if my legs know exactly what to do, but the rest of me is frozen, unable to even speak. She’s wearing some kind of dress that wraps around her torso, like a robe, but it is short. It is yellow in color and makes her look stunning. Her high heels are light pink and match her purse. Her hair is big and curled, her makeup dark and her cleavage is fucking phenomenal.

  “Kirill?” she asks softly. She looks nervous.

  I set my water down on the coffee table and stride toward her. I wrap her in my arms and pull her tightly to me. Then, I press my lips to her mouth, careful not to mess up her lipstick before moving them to her ear.

  “You look so gorgeous, I can’t wait to fuck you in this dress tonight,” I murmur against her ear before I take her lobe in my mouth and suck on the flesh. I don’t bite down, I have no desire to, I will save it all for later.

  “Okay,” she breathes, her body pressed against mine as she’s melts into me.

  “Shall we go, my girls?” I ask. Kiska agrees loudly.

  Tatyana doesn’t say a word, but wraps her hand around mine and smiles shyly up at me. Fuck, she undoes me. Every single fucking piece of her completely and totally wrecks me.

  We drive in silence. We’re going to one of my men, Maxim Laskova’s, house for dinner and drinks with his family. The Zalesky’s, Radimir and Emiliya, will be there as well. They’re my closest men and my friends. I think that the women will be good for Tatyana. They will show her how to behave and what’s expected of her. Since they are in the life, they are women who can be her confidants as well. Maybe I am hoping for too much. Tati never had many friends, but I hope that they can grow close.

  “Is there anything I should know before we arrive?” Tati asks me. I can tell she’s nervous as hell.

  “These are just regular people, Tati. Maxim and Radimir are my men, and we’re going to enjoy a
nice relaxing evening. It is not business, just friends getting together,” I offer with a smile.

  “Do they have any kids?” Kiska asks me from the backseat.

  “Maxim and Haleigh have two children, but they are still very young, and Emiliya is about to have her first baby anytime now,” I say.

  Nobody speaks as we pull onto the street and I park in front of Maxim’s home. I glance across the street and notice that the house is dark, which means that Emiliya and Radimir have arrived already, since they only live across the street. I get out of the car and jog over to Tatyana and Kiska’s side, helping each of my girls out of the car. Then, together as a family, we walk up the sidewalk to the front porch.

  Kirill lifts his hand to knock, but the front door is pulled open before his hand makes it to the door. Standing in front of us is a beautiful, curvy blonde. Her long blonde hair is worn straight down, and she has on a pretty flowy sundress that hits just above her knees and is an A-line style from her natural waist down. It is a light blue with little white polka dot pattern and cut high at the neck. I feel exposed with my amount of cleavage showing compared to her.

  “Kirill,” she murmurs. The familiarity is tangible. I can’t help the stupid insecurities from crawling up my throat.

  “Haleigh, beautiful girl,” he says back before taking her hands in his and kissing each of her cheeks with his lips.

  “This is… my Tatyana and my daughter, Kiska,” he introduces.

  I can’t help the wave of panic that sweeps through me at the introduction. His Tatyana—what does that even mean?

  Suddenly, I feel as though all of our talking the past couple days was for naught. I’m just his, not his fiancée, his girlfriend or even just the mother of his daughter. Just his. A title-less woman, a toy, his whore, his stripper. I’m feeling extremely insignificant in this moment, and extremely irrational.

  “It’s so nice to finally meet you. Please, come inside,” she offers. I smile before I thank her.

  We all walk inside of Haleigh’s home and I almost gasp at how utterly lovely it is. It is like a showroom, yet comfortable and lived in. You can tell that they take pride in their home, their furniture is expensive but comfortable looking, not stiff. Their décor is perfectly coordinated and mixed with family photographs of them.

  I try not to gawk at everything, but it’s hard. As someone who has no idea how to decorate, it always fascinates me how others are able to make their home so beautiful.

  “The men are outside, Kirill, if you care to join them. Emiliya and the children and I are in the house getting dinner ready, if you would like to stay with us Tatyana and Kiska?” Haleigh asks.

  Though she’s not really asking, she wants Kirill outside so she can get to know me without the men around, maybe grill me a bit. I have no doubt that she’s curious as hell about me, since she obviously knows Kirill fairly well.

  “You’ll be alright, krushka?” Kirill murmurs against my ear.

  I nod my agreement. His lips skim my cheek before he begins to walk toward the sliding glass door.

  “Kirill,” another woman’s voice calls. He pauses in his tracks and turns slightly in the direction the voice came from.

  My eyes follow as well and I almost gasp at the woman who is walking toward him. She’s absolutely stunning. She has raven black hair and her eyes are cool blue. She’s heavily pregnant, but only a tight basketball bump at her belly, she’s all baby. She’s wearing a pair of tight legging pants and a long, equally tight tunic style sleeved top, with platform shoes. She quickly wraps her arms around Kirill in an embrace. I’m instantly jealous when his hand rests on her belly after she pulls away from him. I hear them whisper in low, hushed tones.

  “Mama, I go outside with papa,” a little boy’s voice calls. I look down to see a blond haired boy at Haleigh’s legs.

  “No, Maksimilyan. The men are talking,” she says gently. He pouts before he turns away and then goes over to a basket full of toys and begins to play.

  The sound of the sliding glass door closing interrupts my thoughts, and then the stunning, sable haired woman is in front of me, smiling widely.

  “I’m Emiliya,” she says, offering her hand. I take it and introduce myself and then Kiska.

  “Kirill has told us absolutely nothing of you, and my Radimir has said even less. I know he must know some things, but the man will not spill a word. Come tell us about yourself,” she says as she pulls me toward the sofa. Her voice is soft, but her English is broken and her Russian accent extremely apparent.

  “Tell us, how did you meet our Kirill?” Haleigh asks.

  My eyes slide to Kiska who is sitting next to me, excitement pouring off of her as she waits. She knows the abridged version. She knows that we met while I was in college and that we fell in love. She doesn’t know about my father and Kirill’s. I’m not sure she’ll ever know. It’s so bizarre.

  “I was in college in New York, a freshman; that’s where I’m from. He bumped into me and we started dating. We were only together six months before I left,” I clear my throat, extremely uncomfortable.

  “New York? That’s where I’m from,” Haleigh exclaims excitedly. “What part of the city are you from?”

  “Brighton Beach,” I say. Her eyes widen. This means something to her, but I’m not sure exactly what.

  “So you’re Russian. I should have known with a name like Tatyana. How silly of me.” She shakes her head. I look at her curiously but she doesn’t say anything else.

  Yes, I’m Russian, as were the people in my neighborhood. But it wasn’t something that I thought odd or wrong. New York has many neighborhoods which certain ethnicities reside. That’s normal.

  Later, I found out that my father paid for my mother’s apartment, so it would make sense that he would want us near his people, I suppose. I always guessed he felt more comfortable knowing we were surrounded by his culture. Even if my mother wasn’t Russian, she was what she referred to as a mutt.

  “My father is Russian; my mother wasn’t,” I inform.

  “So then you moved to California, why?” Emiliya asks.

  I decide to tell them the truth. Kiska knows some of it. She knows that it was dangerous for us to be around her father. She doesn’t know why, but at this point, I don’t think that she will be shielded for too much longer on exactly who her father is.

  “An FBI Agent told me that Kirill was dangerous—told me of the organization he was involved in, that it wouldn’t be safe for myself or my unborn baby. I had only just found out that morning that I was pregnant and I was already scared. He showed me pictures, and they were so incriminating. I was only eighteen, and he was a government officer. I chose to trust him based off of that alone, and not to ask any questions, so I ran,” I admitted. It felt good to say it all out loud.

  “You didn’t kill yourself then?” Emiliya gasps.

  I look at her with confusion and then it hits me. He’s told her about me. It makes me ache; he’s told this unbelievably beautiful woman about how I hurt him.

  “No, Agent Green set all of that up without my knowledge,” I say.

  “I don’t like that man,” Emiliya informs me.

  “You know him?” I ask.

  “We both do. He tried to talk me into leaving Rad when we first arrived here,” she explains. “He’s dirty, I just know it.”

  I nod my agreement. I think that he is, too. He’s too focused on Kirill; he’s too deep in his obsession. Nobody that obsessed with another person is right. It’s as if he is desperate. I know what desperate people are willing to do to get what they want—anything.

  Our conversation comes to a halt when the men walk inside. I recognize the two men with Kirill. They were in his office the day I confronted him about Sabina and their shared kiss. My cheeks instantly heat at the memory and my eyes automatically go straight to the ground. I am beyond embarrassed.

  “It is nice to finally meet you, Tatyana and Kiska, officially. I’m Maxim,” the big, broad, tall dirty blond man sa
ys. He’s holding his hand out to me and I slip mine inside. He squeezes gently before the dark haired man to his right introduces himself as Radimir.

  “It’s nice to meet you both,” I murmur trying to keep eye contact with them, but failing.

  “Let’s eat then,” Haleigh calls out.

  Luckily, the tension is broken for a bit as Maxim gathers the baby girl who was playing so quietly on the floor. I hadn’t even noticed her. He also picks up the sweet little boy into his big, strong arms. Emiliya and I both ask if Haleigh needs help, but she shoos us away.

  Once we are all settled in, Emiliya across from me, Kiska on one side of me and Kirill on the other, I feel his hand wrap around my thigh and squeeze gently. I turn slightly to him and he offers me a wink before he takes a sip of his water.

  Haleigh presents us with a gorgeous meal. It is just as her house, elegant and comforting looking. Meat, potatoes, vegetables, rolls, a salad, and a bowl of fresh fruit. It’s lovely and I tell her so. She shakes her head and smiles.

  “I’m not a very good cook, but I try. If it’s all terrible we’ll order out,” she informs with a wide smile.

  “I have never had a bad meal of yours, Haleigh,” Radimir informs her with a wink.

  “Radimir speaks the truth. He knows what a bad meal is. He has suffered my cooking,” Emiliya grins.

  We begin to dig into the meal and the conversation shifts. The men start conversing, but I don’t understand them. They keep slipping in and out between Russian and English. Haleigh and Emiliya talk as well. I’m enjoying just being around the group of friends.

  They are obviously close, and I’m a bit envious as I don’t have any friends at all. I don’t think that I ever really have. I’ve always been a bit of a loner, and being uprooted and moving to California did not help anything. Agent Green pressed upon me that having anybody too close would be dangerous. Perhaps he was using my isolation as another form of manipulation.

  “I could show you some basic ballet positions,” Haleigh says. I turn my focus back to the conversation.

  “I would love that,” Kiska gushes.