“Take me shopping. Take me to GUM,” I order Erik as I walk past him, my haughty nose held high.
I don’t wait to hear him grumble. I am going to the best shopping center in Russia, where I will be spotted and where I will pick up a few gifts for my love. Surely that’ll make a buzz on social media. Then I will buy a sexy white dress and really make the paparazzi scream.
“This center is too crowded,” Erik grumbles behind me as I march my thousand dollar shoes down the beautiful corridor of the shopping center.
I ignore him. I did not appreciate his suggestion, therefore he is nothing but a man that insures my safety. He is not my friend, and I will not talk to him.
Behaving like an uptight bitch is not usually my style, but sometimes it must be done. I feel like my father in the moment. The thought leaves a bitter taste in my mouth, but I will not allow men to use me anymore.
Cartier is bright and beautiful, and I notice the diamonds twinkling in the window. Usually, you need an appointment, but I am Emiliya Chekova, therefore, appointments are beneath me—or at least, that’s how it seems.
I buzz the bell and look around, waiting for someone to notice me. A boy, about fifteen, pulls out his phone and snaps a photo of me. I smile just in time and the door opens to the store, allowing me inside. Poor Erik must wait out by the door for me. I should make him hold my purse, too.
“To what do we owe the pleasure, Miss. Chekova?” a sales woman purrs seductively. I almost roll my eyes. Instead, I head over to the men’s section.
“I am here to pick out a gift for my fiancé,” I say.
It is probably a lie. I doubt Radimir wishes to marry me at this moment, but this girl doesn’t know that. The girl gasps. Gossip will indeed travel quickly. I smirk.
“I did not know you were engaged. What are you in search of?” She practically bounces on her high heels and I do my best to ignore her excitement. My eyes gaze over the items and I sigh.
“I want the best. He deserves nothing but the best; but I’m afraid he already has a very nice watch, so I am unsure of what he desires,” I say, leaving it open for her suggestion.
The girl nods, almost frothing at the mouth. I can see her inventory practically spinning in her tiny brain, calculating commissions—of that, I am sure.
The sales girl shows me sunglasses, cufflinks, belts and ink pens. Why would I buy my fiancé an ink pen? I do not understand. I am frustrated.
It has not skipped my notice that Radimir only wears the best, but these items aren’t the best. They aren’t the most expensive, most unique things I can find, and I am just disappointed. Much to the sales girl’s dismay, I leave without purchasing anything for Radimir. Erik is waiting with a frown on his face, and I walk past him and on to my next store, Hermes.
I strut right into the store and straight to the men’s department. Immediately, my eyes catch the perfect cufflinks. They are silver, but designed to look exactly like knotted rope. I think about Radimir and I know this is something he would like. He is a rough man, a man that I can only assume is into things sexually I couldn’t even imagine. The thought frightens me. He was so rough that I wonder if it will always be that way and if it will always hurt?
I hope that he can be sweet again, that it wasn’t purely for the chase and he’s a beast of a man from now on. If I could bottle the sweet man he was, I would. I hope that we can get back to what we had when we first met. The rope suits him, though. I tell the sales girl to wrap them up, but I am not finished.
“Excuse me, are you Emiliya Chekova?” a young man asks. Erik is immediately at my side, doing his best to look lethal, but the boy does not notice.
“Yes, I am. How may I help you?” I ask plastering on my most bright smile.
The boy blushes slightly and, though he is a boy, he must be almost a man. He has stubble on his chin that I notice the longer I look at him.
“Will you take a selfie with me? Nobody will believe that I talked to you,” his voice dips low. I smile then nod.
I watch as he holds his phone out and we press our heads together, smiling widely. It is innocent, but I can’t help that little bit of me that wants to make Radimir come unhinged and jealous. Maybe this makes me a bad person, I don’t know. I do know is that I am a desperate person.
I am desperate to have the promise of what Radimir was just days ago.
I find a beautiful dark teal leather belt and add it to my purchase, along with a tie that compliments, and a few handkerchiefs, spending well over two thousand dollars. I ask the sales girl to wrap them up, as they are a gift for my fiancé. I take into account that there are quite a few people lingering around me as I say this.
Radimir left access to all of his accounts in an envelope on the counter. I have charge cards in my name. How he had them readily available so quickly, I do not know—but I am grateful.
I can’t help but notice that one person particularly close isn’t wearing one piece of designer clothing. She is smiling widely, like she has some information that nobody else knows. Good for her, spread it around.
I drag Erik into a dress shop and fall madly in love with a deep V, all lace, white dress. It hits just above my knees and fits my body like a second skin. It shows off everything. I decide that, paired with light blue shoes, this dress would be lovely for a last minute wedding. I buy it and keep charging through the Center.
I hear my phone ringing, two hours and ten thousand of Radimir’s dollars later, and see that it is him calling me. I ignore it, only to have him ring me again. This happens three more times before Erik’s phone starts and he is obligated to answer.
“He wishes to speak to you,” Erik barks, annoyed with my shopping for the day, shoving the phone at me.
“Hello,” I say as innocently as I can. I finger the beautiful silk negligee I am admiring, thinking about how Radimir would most enjoy the barely-there outfit.
“You spend my money all day, Emiliya? You announce you are engaged, and now there are photos of you and some punk ass motherfucker on the computer that announce he is your secret fiancé? What in the fuck?” he growls.
Radimir is so angry, I can hear it in his voice. Perhaps I am being immature by reacting this way—by going out and flaunting myself, spending his money, and making a scene. I’m so angry with him, and hurt, that I am acting before thinking. Much like the way I speak before thinking. This is a horrible habit and I should be ashamed of myself.
“I am doing as you told me to do, Radimir. You told me whatever I wanted was mine. You told me to move on, and you told me to find other lovers. As much as Erik thinks he is appealing, he is not what I want,” I say casually and flippantly. Immaturely.
Radimir growls and it sounds purely animalistic. My stomach clenches and my core pulses at the sound, a light sheen of sweat covering my body.
“You watch yourself, Emiliya, or you will be in the same situation as the last woman who slept in your room.”
“Where is that, Radimir?” I ask softly. He grunts.
“Sold to a new Master,” he barks and ends the call.
I start to sweat, not from arousal, but from pure fear. Erik must sense my fear because he just smirks. I ask him to take me home. I spend the evening in my room and I worry. Radimir has feelings for me. Maybe they are just lust, but they are feelings. I must secure my position. I must endear myself to him before he does what he has threatened.
I will not be sold.
I CALL HALEIGH.
Radimir’s threat to sell me to another man has rattled me down to my core. I need the advice of my friend. I spent last night alone in the apartment, and the cold, empty, lonely feeling that overwhelmed me has left me unsettled. Even with Radimir at his worst, I felt the assurance of his protection. He had hurt me, yes, but I know he is a hard man. I have spent my life around hard, bad men. But without him here, I am not safe. Radimir gave Yakov his word. He gave me his word. Now there is nothing. And the threat of being owned by anyone else is terrifying.
“Tea?”
Haleigh asks as soon as I step inside of her apartment.
My eyes dart to the place where Gregori and my father laid dead. I shiver before I turn back to Haleigh.
“Yes, please,” I say slowly.
“Sometimes, I still see them there, too,” she admits as I follow her into the kitchen.
“You should move,” I blurt out. She turns to me with a grin.
“I’ve already asked Maxim if this is possible. He hasn’t answered yet. Maybe in time I will forget that awful night?” She shrugs as she hands me a warm mug full of tea. “But that is not why you’re here.”
“Radimir has left. This you know. I made a mistake yesterday. He is angry and threatening to sell me,” I murmur through trembling lips.
“The shopping extravaganza?” she asks, arching her brow over her teacup. I nod as I grimace. “You two are a disaster.”
“I know,” I nod.
Haleigh wraps her hand around my wrist and squeezes. I bring my eyes up to meet hers and see nothing but kindness and sympathy in them.
“You need to seduce him. He is feeling vulnerable right now, Emiliya. Radimir will not tell you about the woman before you, only that he sold her to another master. She was horrible to him. She slept with other men behind his back, but never once was she with him. She was manipulative and cruel. He has not dated since her, no serious woman, and then you came along,” she explains.
“I don’t think I can do it. Seduce him,” I whisper, afraid to say the words out loud.
“You can and you will if you want to keep him. You may not love him, but you need him. He needs you as well; he just doesn’t realize how much yet. Make him realize. Make the physical connection with him, Emiliya. Show him that you are willing to give him your body, and soon, he will give you his heart and soul.”
“It’s going to hurt again,” I murmur, staring down at my shoes.
“It won’t. Don’t let him take control. You are the one seducing him. Make him work for you, work for it. It may seem scary, but I have a feeling you have faced much scarier things in your life. He has as well. Radimir has been through so much, he will push you away, Emiliya. These men, they do not accept their own feelings well. To have emotion is to have weakness.”
“Maxim pushed you away?” I curiously ask.
“Yes, and he almost succeeded. Had I not fought for him, had I accepted it, we would not be where we are now.”
The next morning, I dress in a tight, cream pencil skirt and a jeweled-tone, purple silk blouse that unbuttons enough to show off some of my cleavage. I finish the ensemble with a pair of nude spiked high heels. I smooth out my long black hair and apply the perfect amount of makeup, making it dramatic without looking like a prostitute.
I am going to confront Radimir.
I walk outside of the apartment and see Erik standing right next to the door.
“Take me to him,” I order. He blinks.
“He does not wish this, Emiliya,” Erik warns.
I turn and face him, my meek, sad self gone, my mask now in place. If he thought yesterday was bad, today will be a million times worse.
“Do not address me so informally. I am Ms. Chekova, and you will take me to him,” I demand.
Erik’s eyes flash in anger. I want to shrink away from him, but I don’t. I stand my ground. He mutters something, sounding very close to calling me a cunt, and I want to laugh at him. I slide into the luxury car as Erik speeds off toward wherever Radimir is staying now that he has left me.
Radimir talked sweetly to me, held me, then he turned on me completely. His demeanor changed suddenly, threatening me, and I want to know why. I will not allow him to do this to me and then walk away, only to ignore me. It isn’t fair and I won’t stand for it.
I talk such a big talk, but my stomach is full of butterflies and my head pounds with fear.
Once we arrive at a posh building, Erik walks ahead of me and unlocks a door, waving his arm for me to walk onwards. I roll my eyes at his theatrics. If I thought Ruslan was an asshole, this guy has him beat by a thousand. He makes Ruslan look like my BFF.
I walk into the apartment and my eyes are assaulted by a stripper pole in middle of the room. On the pole, there is a woman arching back, her body completely bare. Radmir’s dark haired head is leaning back against the couch.
“Bend over, show me your pussy,” he slurs.
It doesn’t sound right. He doesn’t sound himself. I decide to keep my mouth shut so that I might see exactly what is going to happen. I am under no illusion that he has been pining over me; and though I do not love him, I don’t want him to be able to move on from me so quickly. He hurt me, yes, but I still feel like I have some kind of claim over him—even if it is just in my own mind. Men like Radimir are never claimed by women. They claim, then they do as they wish.
I watch as the girl bends over with her legs spread, showing Radimir her very intimate body parts. My stomach lurches at the sight, and then he slurs again, telling her to shove her fingers inside of her body. I almost growl, but I don’t. I stay quiet, even though it is killing me.
“You aren’t even wet,” Radimir barks. He throws a glass full of liquid at her, hitting her in the thigh. She yelps and stands up, turning to face him with a look of pure panic on her face.
“I’m sorry, sir,” she whispers. I look into her eyes. She can’t be more than sixteen years old, and I feel pity for her.
“Worthless whore. How do you expect to make any money if your pussy stays dry when you’re touching yourself? What happens when a man touches you? Trust me, no man wants a whore who is dry as the fucking desert. It’s a fantasy. You are supposed to be goddamned fucking perfect,” he screams. I watch as her lips tremble and he yells at her to leave his sight.
I silently stare as the girl leaves with tears streaking down her pretty, young face. Then I slowly walk around the couch to face him. Radimir’s head is hanging low and he looks so sad, his shoulders slumped and his demeanor completely broken. I clear my throat and his head shoots up. Once his eyes catch mine, he draws his eyebrows up in surprise.
“What are you doing here?” he growls. I press my lips together.
“You left without a word,” I say, calm and smooth.
“You wanted me gone right? I left so you could be in peace,” her offers. I nod my head in understanding.
“You are stupid,” I point out, watching as his jaw clenches in anger. Good.
“Get out. I don’t want you. Where is your new lover? On to someone new so quickly?” he growls. I shake my head.
“Yes, you do. Wanting me is not the problem here, Radimir, and there is no lover. He was just a boy asking for a photo,” I offer the truth, watching as his cold demeanor leaves.
In its place is some sad, lost man I have never seen before. I want to hold him, wrap him in my arms, cry, and scream at the person who broke him so long ago.
“Get the fuck out, unless you’re here to audition to be a whore like the girl before you,” he smirks.
I take it as my opportunity. I think about his words. A whore. I am already a whore, only I do not wish to be passed around. I wish to only be his whore. Used by him, cared for by him the way I know he is capable of caring for me. I will suffer pain for him, for his protection, and for glimpses of the sweet man I once had showering me with attention and affection. I will likely fail and he will leave me alone and crying, but that is better than never knowing.
“You want me to be a whore, Radimir? Do you want me to be a whore for every man out there, or just for you?” I whisper as I slowly slide the zipper down my skirt. I push my skirt below my ass, slipping it past my thighs, and step away from the material. Radmir’s eyes roam over my legs and the white lace panties covering me.
“I am yours, Radimir. If you want a whore, then I’ll be your whore,” I say softly, my eyes never leaving his.
With shaky fingers I unbutton the shirt and let it fall to the ground behind me. I notice Radimir’s gaze is now focused on my breasts, abundant and spill
ing over my new, white, lace bra. Standing in my high heels and underwear, I feel so sexy, so powerful, and shockingly—aroused.
“What are you doing?” he rasps, his once slurred speech now perfect.
“I am yours, Radimir. Your whore, your woman, yours,” I say as I straddle his thighs, my center resting against his now hardened length beneath his silk suit pants.
“You cannot want me, Emiliya. I am no good for you,” he admits. He closes his eyes as his hands wrap around the sides of my thighs.
“You cannot sweet talk me, seduce me, and then leave me once you have had me, Radimir. I do not accept it,” I say softly, my lips touching his neck below his ear.
I then trail down to the collar of his shirt and back up. I can feel my nipples pebble against my bra as my stomach clenches with something—with want. I thought I would be too terrified of his rejection to want him right now, but I am surrendering to him, to this, to us. I want to feel safe in his arms. I want him to feel safe with me, too.
“How can you want me after that? Do not try to seduce me, Em. I fear you will not like the result,” he warns. I just hum against the warmth of his neck, my hands sliding up his strong chest, wishing we were skin to skin.
“I cannot seduce you, Radimir. I am your property, your whore, and just plain yours. You cannot throw me to the side, refuse other men from being near me, and leave me locked inside of your tower. Either I am yours or I am free, you choose,” I say, my words soft. It is an ultimatum, and it could go completely wrong and completely badly for me, but I don’t care.
I am not going to lie down and accept whatever man in my life dictates for me—not anymore.
“You push me, Emiliya. You think of yourself as a whore? Is this how you wish to be treated then?” he asks. I watch as his blue eyes glitter and blaze. I know that I must tread lightly and with purpose.
“I do not want to be treated as any whore, Radimir. I want to be treated as your whore. I want you to treasure me. I want you to adore me. I want you to crave me,” I practically beg.
Seducing the Badman (Russian Bratva #2) Page 6