Collared by the Badman (Russian Bratva Book 11) Page 13

  Making my way out into the living room, then the kitchen, I decide to make myself something to eat. I am not accustomed to freedom, to free reign like this, it’s extremely nerve-wracking. The refrigerator is completely overwhelming, and I slam it shut just a few seconds later.

  “Do you need help?” a deep voice asks.

  Jumping, I turn to the side to see Nikolai standing in the entryway of the room. “There is a lot in there,” I dumbly announce.

  He smirks, nodding his head. “There is. Panya is elbow deep in scrubbing the floors today. You’re on your own for food, that is unless you would like me to help?”

  My teeth sink into the corner of my lip and I nod. I already know that if I don’t eat it will upset Sergei. And I don’t want to ever upset him.

  “Go and sit,” he instructs. “I’ll show you, so that you can do it yourself, yeah?”

  I nod enthusiastically and sit at the bar across from him. He takes out a few pieces of fruit, bread, and eggs. He explains how to cut the fruit, and which ones have pits and which ones just need the stems removed. I feel like a child as he explains it all, but I don’t mind. In a lot of ways, I am like a child.

  “Are you married?” I ask as he explains how to crack the eggs.

  He stops, lifting his eyes to mine and he looks a little sad. “I am. My wife is at a safehouse right now, until all of this shit blows over,” he shrugs.

  “You miss her?” I guess.

  He smirks, leaving behind his sad look and replacing it with a cocky one. “I miss a lot,” he winks.

  Lifting my hand to my face, I cover my laugh at his insinuation. I know it’s a coverup, but it’s still funny. “I hope that she is able to come home soon. All of this is my fault, isn’t it?” I ask.

  He places his hands on the counter and lifts his gaze to mine. “Not your fault, Raisa. What’s happened to you is a travesty, and it needs to be dealt with. I’m fine with that, and normally I wouldn’t mind being away from my wife, but we’re trying for a baby,” he shrugs.

  “Have you had troubles?” I chance asking.

  He nods, sliding a plate of food over to me, and then stabbing a piece of fruit for himself. I don’t know how it feels to want to try and have a baby. That hasn’t been something that was really an option for me, not now, and not ever.

  I did get pregnant once. One of Zakhar’s business associates was allowed to keep me for several weeks and my birth control at the time failed. It wasn’t a joyous thing, me being pregnant. The abortion was handled quickly, the recovery was difficult, but I never felt attached to the child, never desired it, nor had even a glimmer of hope that I would have the opportunity to keep it.

  “You’ve experienced loss?” he guesses after a few minutes of my silent thinking.

  Clearing my throat, I nod. “I did. I’ve never had an opportunity to desire a child. I was just thinking about that fact. It’s an odd feeling, I was trying to put myself in your shoes, seeing how sad you are that you’re unable to try for your dream of having a baby,” I shrug.

  “Do you want one? I don’t think Sergei would entertain that,” he mutters.

  I shake my head, probably harder than I should. “No, I have known that my fate would not lead me to be a mother. It isn’t anything I have dreamed of or imagined.”

  He nods, eating a few more bites of his food. “I like the way he is now that he has you. Much less uptight, and dare I say, happy?”

  Nikolai’s words fill me so full that I think I might burst at any second. My face heats and I know it is red, but Nikolai doesn’t mention it. I finish my breakfast and Nikolai takes his out to the balcony. I watch him sit down, and lift his phone to his ear. I assume he’s making a call to his wife, so I go about cleaning up the mess from our meal.

  Once everything is cleaned up, I decide to give myself a tour of the apartment. I’m not as anxious and scared as I was the first time I attempted to venture out of the bedroom. This time, I find myself a bit curious.

  The first room I walk into is Sergei’s office. I feel like I shouldn’t be in here, but I walk a bit farther inside and make my way over to his desk, sitting down in the chair. The desk smells like wood oil and the chair like fresh leather. There is also a faint scent of cigarette smoke. It smells like Sergei. He doesn’t smoke around me, but I’m fairly certain that he does smoke, the smell is always faint on his clothes and skin when he’s near.

  My elbow accidentally knocks against the mouse and the monitor turns on. I back away from it, afraid to touch or mess anything up. Turning around in the spinning chair, my eyes land on a silver-framed photograph.

  Reaching for the picture, I exhale. It’s a photo of a much younger Sergei, he’s holding a tiny bundle in his arms. It must be a girl because the baby is wrapped up in a pink blanket. I can only see his profile, but he looks as if he’s in awe of the tiny creature. Using my finger, I trail it down the glass, caressing his face.

  “He loved her from first sight,” Panya’s voice croaks.

  Setting the picture down, I turn around and look up to her. “I shouldn’t be in here,” I mumble.

  “No, he told me there were no rooms off limits to you, that includes his office. There is nothing of a secure nature on his devices here,” she explains. “That is Tatyana, his only child.”

  “She’s a woman now, when was the last time he saw her?” I ask.

  Panya clears her throat. “She was around ten probably. Twenty years ago.”

  Glancing back at the photograph my heart aches for him. That man in the picture didn’t know that he would go two decades without seeing his child. I feel for him. For the young Sergei, and the older one that I love.

  Love.

  I love him.

  I didn’t think that I could feel for another person, not really, but I do love him. I ache in sadness for the loss in his life, and I’m excited about his newfound joy. I don’t want him to ever hurt again, and that is love to me.

  Panya leaves me alone in his office, and I spend the day in the space. I don’t snoop around, but I do stare at the picture of him and his daughter Tatyana more than I probably should. I see the love he has for his child, love that he will never have for another baby. It’s heartbreaking, he simply adores her. Shouldn’t he experience that again?

  CHAPTER EIGHTEEN

  SERGEI

  The car pulls up to the front drive and I look at the house in front of me. It’s fancy, in true Kirill style. It’s on a hill overlooking Los Angeles, modern and sleek. Exiting the vehicle, I suck in a deep breath. I know who awaits me on the other side, however, I do not know how she will react to me. I’m sure she’ll hate me. Despise me. I know that I probably would if I were her, and I’ll deserve it all.

  Slowly, I walk up the steps of the house. My finger extends, and I press the doorbell as I let out a heavy breath.

  Kirill opens the front door. My eyes are not on him, though. My eyes are on the vision in front of me. The stunning woman in a tight blue sweater dress and gray boots. My eyes are on my daughter. She looks exactly the way her mother did when I had her as my own.

  We stare at one another, my little chess piece and me.

  “Papa,” she finally breathes as she wraps her arms around me.

  My back stiffens at the contact, but I immediately relax, wrapping her in my arms as well. “Shakhmatnaya figura,” I murmur against her hair.

  Chess piece, my little chess piece. She’s alive, she’s here, and I’m holding her in my arms. I never thought that this moment would happen, not ever. It feels completely surreal.

  “It’s been so long,” she whispers, releasing me and taking a step back.

  Looking down at her, I still can’t believe that this moment is here, finally. I remember holding her tiny body wrapped in a blanket, wondering how I would raise such a gentle, breakable little creature. Turns out I did a shit job of it, but she’s in front of me anyway alive and strong, so fucking strong.

  “This is Kiska Orlova,” she introduces.

&nbs
p; A young girl steps forward. She has long black hair and bright blue eyes. She looks more like me than Tati does. She looks beautiful. She has stolen my breath. My granddaughter. If I thought that seeing Tatyana at first sight was simple love, I was wrong. Seeing Kiska is beyond that. I’ve never felt this way before, not ever.

  “You’re tall,” she announces.

  I can’t help but chuckle at her observation. Taking a few steps farther into the house, I close the door behind me before I crouch down to the girl’s level.

  “I am, Kiska. You are so very beautiful. I’m the luckiest man in the world to have such beauty surround me,” I say, my voice deep and rumbling. She awards me with a stunning smile, and all seems right in the world.

  This girl is mine, my granddaughter, and Tatyana is my daughter. Kiska takes my hand with her smaller one and guides me toward the table. There is food all set up, but it means nothing to me. I can’t take my eyes off of her, and when I’m able to tear my gaze away from Kiska, it goes directly to her mother. I cannot believe that I let her out of my sight, even if it was to protect her, I should have come up with a different solution. Anything would have been better than not seeing her for twenty years.

  I’m a fool. An old fool, for doing what I did. Granted, I kept them from turning into whores like Raisa. I contracted Tatyana as soon as I could, but that wasn’t the only fear. As the most powerful man in the Bratva, people would do anything to get to me, and that includes harming my family or anyone that they deem important to me.

  Tatyana was the most important person in my life, now Kiska is right up there with her. A picture of Raisa flashes through my mind, and I have to admit that she too ranks up there with these two girls.

  Hours go by, and I find myself outside with Kirill talking business. That is until Tatyana ventures outside. “What are you two talking about?” she asks, walking directly up to Kirill’s side.

  If I hadn’t signed their contract for marriage, if he wasn’t the father of my granddaughter, I would shoot him simply because she went to his side instead of my own. If I weren’t such a shit parent. So many goddamn if’s and all because I ran fucking scared all those years ago.

  “Nothing, shakhmatnaya figura, just work,” I say, brushing off her question, and my annoyance with a shrug.

  Kirill quietly leaves us alone and I let out a shaky breath. I ask her if he’s being good to her. Something dark flashes in her eyes and she sighs. I want to demand truthful answers, and I want them now, however, I am not in the position to do so, not anymore.

  “I know that the contract is in place, signed by myself, Kirill’s father and Kirill himself. But in the end, Tati, in the end, I hold the right to revoke the entire fucking thing if I feel he’s not the right man for you,” I tell her.

  Tatyana’s eyes widen and her mouth drops open slightly. “Seriously?” she asks. I almost laugh before I confirm her question.

  She explains that Kirill is the father of her child, and my cool completely disappears. “I could give a fuck if he was the President of the United States, Tati. You’re my daughter,” I growl.

  We talk a little while longer, she assures me that she is fine and that I don’t have to kill the fucker, but just barely. I remind her at the end of our conversation that I would kill him if I needed to, which only causes her to smile and laugh.

  Lifting my hand, I wrap it around the back of her neck and pull her against my side. Dipping my chin, I rest my lips against her ear before I speak. Words I should have said hours ago, weeks ago, years ago had I known she was alive.

  “I never wanted to leave you. I thought that I was keeping you safe by going. Kirill informed me later that this was the wrong thing to do. He said your mother was a drunk and neglected you. I apologize for that, Tatyana. Had I known, I would have sent for you. I would and will always protect you with my life. You and Kiska. You’re my only blood on this earth. You’re both my heart and soul.”

  Tatyana’s body begins to tremble, and I hear her whimper as she cries. Her tears stain my shirt, but I don’t care. They are necessary tears, and she needs to get it all out. She attempts to gather herself, I can see her mind working, but I stay quiet. I watch as she struggles to gain her composure. She then asks me about her mother.

  Her first question is whether or not I loved her mother. I curse to myself before I answer her truthfully.

  “I didn’t. Not really. I’m not what you would call a warm and caring man. She was a whore. A woman who was given to me to provide a service,” I shrug, but deep down, I wish I never had to explain this to her.

  “A whore?” she exhales.

  “A slave,” I clarify.

  I explain to her that it is the reason I separated myself from her as a small child. I tell her how the women, the Bratva women who were not contracted were sold into sexual slavery. The organization would take the boys to train and the girls were whored. It happened for decades, it became the norm of the organization.

  “Did you hurt her?” she asks.

  I chuckle, shaking my head. Really not wishing to go over this part of my life with my daughter. However, Tatyana deserves answers. “It’s my, how you say, kink. Slaves,” I explain. “I didn’t love her, but I adored her, and I did not mistreat her. Not like you think.”

  She frowns, looking exactly like her mother, as she does. I think about the woman from my past and smile. I have many good memories of her, even if she wasn’t a good woman to raise my daughter. When I had her, she seemed sweet. Life has a way of hardening people though, and I have a feeling that is what happened to her.

  “That makes me sad, that she was used that way,” she mutters.

  I nod in agreement. “Now that I have a daughter, and a granddaughter, it makes me sad as well, Tatyana. I wish that I could have fallen in love with her, or at least that I could have apologized to her. I wish that I could have been what she needed,” I truthfully admit.

  At the time, I could not keep her—keep them. It is one of my biggest regrets in life, allowing my child out of my care. Guard or not, contract or not. I should have been the one to raise Tatyana.

  Surprisingly, Tatyana asks me if I’m in a relationship in Moscow. I frown, thinking of her question. I let out a breath and I give her the only answer I can about Raisa.

  “I am. She fits my lifestyle and she’s what I need. I’m also what she needs.”

  I don’t give her any more, I don’t have any more to give. Raisa and my relationship is new, it’s difficult to describe, and I honestly don’t know what the future will bring for us. I know that I feel for her, for the first time in my life, I feel and it concerns me. I don’t know that I’m scared necessarily, but I honest to fuck do not know how to deal with any of it.

  Leaving Tatyana and Kiska, I feel an ache in my chest with each step I take from Kirill’s house on the hill. It felt this way when I left Raisa in bed too.

  Wrong.

  It feels goddamn wrong.

  I hate every second of it.

  RAISA

  The phone rings and I jump, sliding across the bed to answer. It’s late, so late that I know the only person who could be ringing this house at this hour, is Sergei. It must be him.

  “Hello?” I breathe.

  “Raisa,” he states. His voice is deep, smooth, and so sexy. I can’t believe it has been over twenty-four hours since I’ve seen him. “You are well?” he asks.

  He sounds funny, different. But I don’t comment on it. I’m far too excited to hear from him, anyway. “I am. I made my own breakfast this morning. Nikolai showed me how yesterday and this morning I did it all by myself,” I boast.

  Sergei hums, the sound causes my skin to break out in goosebumps. “What did you make, krasotka?”

  “Fruit and toast, and I even scrambled an egg,” I ramble in excitement. “I couldn’t do fried like Nikolai, I messed up the yolk. He laughed at me but showed me how to scramble.”

  “Don’t spend too much time with Nikolai, yeah?” he grunts.

  I don
’t hold back the smile, my teeth sinking into my bottom lip at his obvious jealousy. “He told me all about his wife, Sergei. And honestly, you are the only man I notice,” I admit shyly.

  “I do not deserve you,” he rasps. He sounds sad and I want to ask him more, but he doesn’t allow me. “I must go, I have some business to conduct. You are okay?”

  I nod, then speak because he cannot see me. “I am. I’m learning to walk freely around the apartment now. I haven’t made it out to the balcony, but I’m going to try by the end of the week. Hopefully when you’re able to call again, I’ll be spending time out there getting some sun,” I excitedly announce.

  “Good girl.”

  “Spend time with your daughter, Sergei. Do not worry over me. Watch her get married and congratulate her for me. I am so happy for you,” I tell him, keeping my voice soft and low.

  He doesn’t respond. He tells me goodbye then ends the call. Dread creeps into my mind. Did I make a mistake with what I said? Should I not have told him that? Should I not have mentioned his daughter. It is no secret, I’ve known about her, but when he didn’t respond, it made me feel self-conscious.

  Have I just completely messed us up, again?

  CHAPTER NINETEEN

  RAISA

  An entire ten days go by without so much as a phone call from Sergei. It feels, odd, unsettling. I expected him to call me at least once a day. I’ve ventured out to the balcony, braved the outside world from my tower. The sunshine feels good against my skin, but I’m careful not to stay out too long. The first day I burned and had to stay inside until the red pain faded away.

  Today I lay my head back, propping my feet up on the chair in front of me and close my eyes, soaking in the warm sunshine. My skin is a golden brown now, the sunburn surprisingly turning into a tan.

  “You will fry like bacon out here,” Nikolai’s voice booms.

  I jolt, sitting up and looking behind me at the man himself. I’m wearing a pair of soft cotton shorts and a tank top, my few clothing items having been worn and washed quite liberally the past ten days.