Tempting the Badman (Russian Bratva #5)

by Hayley Faiman

  He turns and walks away from me, not saying anything else, and I watch him go.

  “Did you get your answers,” Yakov asks, almost smugly.

  “Either I have to catch her fucking someone with another Bratva member in attendance, she has to fuck another member and get caught, or I have to knock Inessa up and marry her,” I explain.

  “Better start poking holes in your condoms,” Yakov chuckles. I glare at him.

  “Wouldn’t matter. She’s pissed at me, anyway. Guess I better start courting my bride,” I groan.

  “Do you think Larisa is that stupid?” Yakov asks as we make our way back to the office.

  “I don’t know her well, but it took me about five minutes of watching her to see her take it doggy style in the locker room of her gym,” I shrug.

  “Then maybe she’s your best bet,” he chuckles.

  “Fuck. I was stupid to sign the contract with her,” I admit.

  “You were young, and it’s what we do. You weren’t stupid. You thought you were being safe. It’s understandable.”

  “I should have waited,” I grunt.

  “Maybe, but you didn’t, so now you deal. Find her head-down-ass-up and get that contract voided. Then get your woman.”

  “She’s not—.”

  “You fuck her, you only want her, and you’re thinking of ways to get out of your contract because you know she won’t accept being your side-whore. You want her as your woman. The sooner you come to that realization, the better. I don’t know her, but I’ve seen her and spoken with her about business. She’s smart, she’s Russian, and she’s beautiful. Any man would be lucky to call her his. So if you do not want that with her, then you should leave her be,” he announces before he steps out of the car and slams the door.

  I watch him walk into our office building, and I blink several times. He is not wrong. Inessa is all of those things. She’s also sweet, soft, and great in bed, too.

  I should probably leave her to somebody else. But when I imagine somebody else touching her soft skin, or wrapping her dark hair in his fist, it makes me green—fucking green, and jealous, and homicidal.

  “Fuck,” I hiss. “I want her, all of her. Fuck.”

  Another long day from hell. I’m exhausted, and nothing could make me leave my couch. Not one damn thing. At least, that’s what I tell myself as I fall onto the sofa, wearing nothing but a camisole and a pair of panties. I made an executive decision before I came home, and I’ve cancelled all of my showings for tomorrow, deciding to spend the day catching up on my files and paperwork. Today was showing after showing, picky person after picky person, and not one freaking offer was made.

  My phone rings and I smile down at it before I answer.

  “Uncle,” I say.

  “You sound tired.”

  “I am so tired. I’ve been swamped. How are you?” I ask.

  “I’d like to meet up for dinner tomorrow night. Make sure Konstantin can bring you. Brighton Beach. Some Russian food,” he says distractedly. I wonder what he’s doing, but I learned a long time ago not to ask.

  “Oh, that sounds good. Yes. What time?”

  “Seven, at the Oleandr,” he announces before he ends the call.

  I fall asleep moments later and then wake in the middle of the night only to stumble to bed. The crick in my neck is too painful to handle on the sofa.

  I wake with a startle when my alarm dances across my nightstand, and I moan when I see that it’s not only time for me to get up, but that this is my last alarm. Now I’m going to have to rush.

  I hurry into the bathroom, showering at lightning speed, and then dress in a pair of sage colored, pencil legged pants, a cream blouse, and a leopard print, satin blazer, along with a pair of nude high heels.

  I open my door to find Konstantin already waiting for me, a sexy grin on his face and a coffee in his hand.

  “Have I told you that I adore you?” I ask as I reach for the coffee.

  “No, but you can show me,” he says with a blinding white smile.

  “You’re awful,” I laugh, taking a step toward the elevators.

  Konstantin places his hand on my lower back, and together we ride the elevator down to the parking garage. It’s been really nice not having to drive lately, and once this whole bodyguard thing ends, I’ll miss being chauffeured around by a big, sexy Russian.

  “You’re in the office all day?” Konstantin asks as he opens the door for me.

  “Yeah. Paperwork all day today,” I respond.

  He nods and then walks around to the driver’s side of the SUV. He explains that he has some things he has to take care of, but if I wish to leave the office for anything, including lunch, to text him and he’ll come and get me.

  “I don’t plan on going anywhere,” I admit with a half-yawn.

  I’m exhausted and hoping that with today I can catch up on work and then take the rest of the week a bit easier.

  “Just text me if you plan on taking even one step out of your building,” he says, lifting his chin.

  “Yes, Konstantin,” I agree. He grins as he parks the SUV.

  Konstantin walks me to the elevator and then into my building, not stopping until he’s gone inside of my office and checked every nook and cranny for signs of danger. I thank him and tell him that I’ll see him around five. He reminds me, yet again, to text him if I decide to go outside for anything.

  I spend the day working on my files, alone in my office. At lunch, I send my assistant out for food and continue to work. By the time Konstantin walks inside of the room, I’m officially caught up on work and ready to tackle tomorrow.

  “You have dinner with Pavlov,” Konstantin announces as I shut down my computer.

  “Yes, I know,” I agree. “I need to stop by my apartment really quick and change.”

  “Change?” he asks with a furrowed brow as we hurry to his car.

  “I cannot wear wrinkled pants to the Oleandr. Are you crazy? Uncle Pavlov would deeply disapprove. I don’t know about you, but I don’t like being in the hot seat,” I quip as I buckle my seat belt.

  “No, me either. I like giving hot seats, but not being in them,” he grins, holding his palm up and making a spanking motion in the air.

  “Konstantin,” I gasp, feigning shock. He chuckles, wagging his eyebrows at me.

  When we arrive at my apartment building, I rush out of the car and up the stairs, Konstantin on my heels. Then I tear into my apartment and leave him in my living room while I change into a dress. Uncle Pavlov is traditional, always has been. For dinner, I was always required to dress, changing into something sophisticated and appropriate for whatever restaurant we would attend. Even at home, I was expected to change out of my school clothes and into something nicer and clean.

  The wrap dress I choose for tonight shows more cleavage than I would prefer for dinner with my uncle, but I don’t have time to find something else. It’s a short sleeved, dark teal, silk dress, with a thick sash that has two gold ends hanging around my hip. The wrap of the dress comes up in the middle of my legs, in an inverted V, making it shorter than I should probably wear with my uncle; but, once again, I don’t have time, and it matches my shoes.

  “Inessa,” Konstantin hisses as I walk out of the bedroom.

  “What?” I ask as I throw some lipstick into my purse.

  “You have no clue, do you?” he asks as we walk out of my building together.

  Konstantin’s hand is once again at the small of my back, and I stop and tip my head up, turning to face him when I do. His hand doesn’t leave me, instead moving to wrap around my waist. His dark eyes scan my face and he shakes his head once, looking off to the side before he turns to look at me again.

  “You’re gorgeous, absolutely beautiful, and you have no fuckin’ clue, do you?”

  “Konstantin,” I say hesitantly.

  “He’s a fucking fool.”

  Konstantin tucks my hair behind my ear and shakes his head before he moves and places his hand at my back
again, pushing me forward.

  We don’t say another word to one another. He drives to Brighton Beach in silence, and I find that I’m lost in thought, so the silence is exactly what I need.

  Images of Dominik flow through my mind. I didn’t know him, but I miss him. I miss the way he would watch me when we were together, the way his eyes never left me. I miss his touch, his sweet kisses, and his dirty mouth. I’m so stupid for missing him, and for wanting him. So stupid.

  I watch her. I watch that big fuck she’s with touch her back as he walks close to her. They walked together from her apartment this morning, and now they’re going out tonight. She’s already moved on from me, and it pisses me off. Seeing that piece of shit touch her sends a stream of rage through my veins, giving me an instant headache.

  “Markov,” I bark into my phone.

  “You are needed,” a voice commands.

  “Who is this? Where?”

  “With your fiancée,” he barks. I recognize the voice as Oleg.

  Since I agreed to go ahead with the wedding planning yesterday, I’ve been needed a total of five times in less than twenty-four hours. This shit is not worth it. Larisa is not worth it. I close my eyes and start the engine of my Audi before turning around and heading toward my bitchy, selfish fiancée.

  She no doubt needs something, but she wouldn’t like what I would give her, which would be a swift kick in her bony ass.

  DINNER WITH UNCLE PAVLOV is nice and uneventful. We eat, we drink, we talk, and other than the few concerned looks he gives me, none of it is about the supposed dangers surrounding me. Honestly, who would want to hurt me? I have no idea. I’m nobody.

  Then, at the end of the evening, he sighs heavily and I know that he is about to tell me the real reason behind this oh-so-important dinner.

  “What is it?” I ask.

  “You’re twenty-five,” he announces, as if I don’t know. I’ll be twenty-six in a few months, but I don’t point that out to him. “You don’t date, and your contract was of course voided because the traitor was killed.”

  I think back to the time when I was engaged to Gregori, and then to when we found out just what and who he actually was. A traitor to the Bratva, a rapist, a sadist, and the most disgusting man on earth. A marriage to him would have been certain death. I release a shiver just thinking about it, and Uncle Pavlov gazes at me with sympathy.

  “It’s time for marriage, Inessa.”

  I look at him in surprise. He’s not mentioned marriage since the contract was burned. He burned it the second he walked back into the dining room from a phone conference that came in during dinner. I watched him.

  He walked into the dining room, showed me the signed contract, and told me how disgusting Gregori was. When I watched him light a match to it, the hard look in his eyes made me scared. I never questioned it, and I never knew the true depravities of Gregori, only that he was a traitor, a sadist, and a rapist—I didn’t need to know anymore to understand that I had been saved from hell that day.

  “Why?” I ask.

  “Times are unstable. I can only protect you so much. A strong husband would protect you better. You carrying a name that held weight and fear in the organization would be even better,” he murmurs.

  “Another contract?” I ask, arching a brow.

  At twenty-five, I have no desire to see the men that are still available, knowing they are for a reason. The desirable men in the Bratva are contracted at a young age, not at my age.

  “I don’t know that I could get anybody, not right now, and not at your age,” he says. I admit that it hurts my ego. “A widower, maybe, but that would mean moving, perhaps even to Russia.”

  “I don’t know Russian and moving isn’t an option with my career,” I point out, scrunching up my nose. He nods.

  “I will talk to the two Pakhan I’m close with, see what they suggest. But I need to know that you’re open to it, that you’ll consider it,” he says, giving me a weak smile.

  I can almost taste the fear in the air. I reach across the table and take his hand in mine, giving him a gentle squeeze and smile.

  “Yes, Uncle, I’m open to it,” I say softly. I then watch his face drain of tightness, as if he’s completely and totally relieved.

  “Yes, good. I’ll call you,” he murmurs as he stands.

  Our dinner is finished, as is the delicate conversation he’d probably been consumed with the entire time, and it’s late.

  “Konstantin waits for you?” he asks as he helps me out of my chair.

  “Yes, he’s outside,” I say with a nod.

  “Good.”

  Uncle Pavlov and I hug outside of the restaurant before he delivers me to Konstantin’s SUV. I don’t say anything to Konstantin as we drive back to my apartment. I’m lost in thought, wondering what on earth I’m going to do.

  Marriage to a Bratva man seems to be my only option.

  A Bratva man that I don’t want, because I don’t want any of them.

  Dominik is fun, he’s sexy, he’s great in bed, and my heart is falling for him, but that doesn’t take away what he is. He’s still one of the men my father was, one of the men that killed my father and my mother in their sleep, leaving me to mourn at five years old.

  “Talk to me,” Konstantin urges once we’re in front of my doorway.

  I didn’t even realize that I got out of the car and walked to my apartment, I’m that deep in thought. I look up to him with a trembling bottom lip, shaking my head once to compose myself. I shouldn’t have worked so hard on my career. I should have dated more and found a man, any man who was kind, to marry me.

  “Uncle Pavlov is looking for a contract for me,” I admit on a whisper.

  “Marriage?” Konstantin asks, his brows shooting high.

  I nod.

  “Why now?”

  “I had a contract once. He was a traitor, but I’ve not settled down since. With everything that’s going on, he’s worried. I don’t have a man to protect me fulltime. It would ease his worries, and he’s been so good to me all of these years,” I admit.

  “Do you want to marry for love? Is that why you’ve waited?” he asks.

  I bite my bottom lip and turn my face away from him. I shake my head, not wanting to admit the truth; but there’s nobody else I can talk to about this, nobody that would understand. My only friend is my assistant, and I’m not sure if she’s my friend, or friendly because I’m her boss. I’ve spent so much of my time working, that the friends I had in college drifted away. I became obsessed with my job, so obsessed that I alienated myself from the people I called friends.

  “I didn’t want to marry a Bratva man,” I say on a whisper.

  “Do we scare you that much, kroshka?” he asks, taking a step closer to me, making my back press against the wall while his hand cradles my cheek.

  “I don’t know,” I exhale.

  Konstantin shakes his head and leans down, pressing his lips to my forehead in a lingering kiss.

  “Get some sleep. I’ll see you in the morning.”

  He releases me and then walks away. I watch his big body move down my hallway silently, and I wonder for the first time if maybe I could be in contract with him. He’s nice, and I think he’d treat me well.

  Then I remember how Uncle Pavlov basically called him a whore, and I sigh. I don’t need another smooth talker in my bed, not when I’ve just gotten the last one out, and I still want him there.

  I walk inside of my apartment, locking the door behind me. I sigh before I toss my purse on the counter and go to the fridge for a bottle of water to take to bed with me. I don’t bother turning the lights on in my living room. Instead, I go straight to my room. I’m exhausted, and all I can think about is sleep as I kick off my high heels against my bedroom wall.

  I strip out of my dress and am standing with my back to the door when I hear a voice that sends a chill up my spine.

  “Do you like him touching you?”

  I spin around and come face-to-face with Dom
inik. He’s leaning heavily against the doorframe of my bedroom, and his eyes are glaring at me like daggers. I gulp as I stare at him, standing in nothing but a bra and panties, unable to move from his pinned glaze.

  “Dominik,” I whisper.

  He pushes his shoulder from the door and walks up to me. I stay rooted to my spot until his chest brushes with mine and his hands cup my cheeks. His blue eyes are like stone, and his jaw clenches. His fingertips dig into my cheeks and he speaks again, except his voice is deeper and harsher.

  “Do you like him touching you, Inessa?”

  “Who?” I ask.

  “The big fucker that came from your place this morning, took you out tonight, and then dropped you off seconds ago. Do you like him touching you?” he grinds out.

  I blink once, realizing he’s talking about Konstantin. Then it registers that he’s been watching me.

  “You’ve been watching me?” I ask stupidly.

  “You blocked me from your phone,” he replies.

  “So you started stalking me? How did you even get into my apartment?” I practically screech.

  “Doesn’t matter. What matters is you’re whoring yourself, and I won’t accept it,” he snaps.

  I wrench myself out of his grasp and take a step back.

  “You need to leave, right now,” I say.

  “No,” he grunts.

  Then he’s on me. He’s so fast, I don’t even have time to react before he’s pinned me to the wall. His body is flush with mine, and one of his hands is clamped tightly around my hip, the other around the front of my throat.

  “He touches you again, yagodka, I rip his cock off and fuck his ass with it while I make you watch,” he growls.