Regardless of how young and scared I was, it still was not right. I let my fear guide me. I let my impulses take over, something I often did as a young girl before I became a mother myself. I hurt him and I hurt Kiska. Not anymore. I’ll shovel the shit he’s throwing my way, and hopefully he’ll see just how sorry I am and forgive me—one day.
“Okay,” I concede with a nod.
“First, we need to get that prick to leave you alone,” he grinds out.
I snort as I make myself busy by walking into the kitchen to cook. I have to do something. I have to keep my hands busy, or I’ll do something stupid, like wrap myself around him again.
“He’s been popping up off and on for the past ten years. I never know when,” I shrug as I take out bread and sandwich fixings.
“What information did you give him?” he asks. I sigh as I grip the countertop.
I was hoping I never had to go through this, hoping he would drop it all.
“Nothing. I had nothing to give him, Kirill. He frightened me. He told me things about you and about your line of work. He manipulated me. He promised that the FBI would keep me safe. When he truly discovered that even if I knew anything I would never tell him, then he cut off all funds coming to me from the government. He left me penniless with an infant. He…” I almost finish telling him the rest of my story, but I don’t. I stop. He doesn’t need to know. He only wants me for one thing, to fuck. He doesn’t really care.
“Finish,” he urges. I only shake my head as I place his lunch on a plate and hand it to him.
“Doesn’t matter. Just that’s why I started stripping. I was working part time at this little boutique, but when he cut off my supplemental income, I needed cash, and fast. I moved us here, to this much cheaper apartment, and I started dancing. Kiska was eight months old.”
“You like it? Dancing?” he asks. I take a bite of my food, thinking as I chew a few times.
“I don’t hate it. I could do without some of it, but it’s good money and I don’t have an education, so my options are limited,” I shrug.
“You didn’t finish college?” he asks, furrowing his brow. I throw my head back laughing.
“No, Kirill, I did not finish college. When I left, I killed my chances for any semblance of a normal life.”
Kirill doesn’t say anything else. We finish our lunch in silence. I have so many questions, so many. I don’t ask them, though. We aren’t real—he and I. What we are is this undefined thing, this relationship that is for appearances. I am to be his lover carnally and in public, but as far as friends go, we are not. It’s so confusing, and it hurts to think about.
It hurts to know that he wants me only to use me, and nothing else, especially when I have such fond memories of him. But he’s right. He is not the boy I love. He’s a man now, and the man is so very different from the boy I once knew.
“What does Kiska know of me?” he asks after I clean up our lunch.
“That we were very much in love and that she was made in love. She knows that it was unsafe for us to be near you for a while. I have not lied to her, but I have not been brutally honest,” I admit. He nods.
“Thank you for not hiding me from her,” he says. I smile.
“Will you whore me out, Kirill? Will you whore her?” I blurt out, recalling the conversation I had with Agent Green from earlier.
“Who in the fuck told you I would do that?” he shouts. It startles me. I shake my head once. He doesn’t need to ask, not really.
“That guy is a prick, Tatyana, and if you believed him, then you are a stupid bitch,” he announces. My hackles rise.
I will take his shit, but I will not take him calling me a bitch for something like this.
“Well, he didn’t lie about you being part of the Russian Mafia, Kirill. He told me that two of your men were given their wives as some kind of paid debt. He told me that one of them, his sister was sold at the age of twelve as a sex slave. Was he wrong about all of it?” I yell.
“You tread on thin ice, Tati,” Kirill warns. He doesn’t answer me, and that omission tells me all I need to know.
“I have a nine-year-old daughter; do I need to worry about this?” I ask, lowering my voice.
“My daughter is a Printsessa. She will never be a whore,” he grinds out between clenched teeth.
“Will she be bartered in marriage?” I ask, quirking a brow.
“If she is, it will be a good match.”
Without thinking, without recalling his warning from the night before, I reach out in heated anger and I slap him.
The only thing I can think about is that he will take away my daughter’s right to choose her own husband, her own future. In so many words, he will indeed whore my baby out.
Quick as lightning, his hand comes out and the back of it slashes across my face, sending me to the ground. I close my eyes and I wait for more.
“Do not test me, Tatyana. I will be back when it is time to get Kiska from school. You no longer have rights to make decisions on your own. Your reign as the head of your household is now over. It would be in your best interest to comply and not fight me. I warned you if you struck me again you would not enjoy the consequences. You better learn how to control your Russian temper a bit better,” he chuckles before he steps over me and walks away, quietly closing the door behind him.
I stay in the middle of my floor, my hand covering the place where he backhanded me. It doesn’t hurt too badly. He wasn’t too ruthless; I have a feeling he could have hit me about a hundred times harder.
This was my warning, his proof that he was not just giving me an idle threat before. He meant it. If I hit him again, I will not like the consequences of my actions. I feel like a child. I feel like I have lost a piece of myself as well.
My freedom is over.
I used to dream of him finding us and taking us to wherever he was.
Now I dread it.
Dreams turned into realities are not always how we envisioned them to be.
I have hurt her. Hit her. I hate myself a little more in this moment. I had to leave. I have no friends that I can call, since we are all keeping a low profile. Communication is minimum with the FBI on our asses.
Agent fucking Ryan fucking Green—pain in my ass.
I decide to call the only man I know that I can truly, one hundred percent trust. He needs to know what I have discovered, anyway. He deserves to know what I have discovered.
“Hello,” his voice is raspy, probably with sleep. I did not think of the time difference, but I do not care.
“I have found her,” I murmur.
It is close to midnight and the old man must have been dozing off.
“Tatyana?” he asks, sounding perkier.
“Yes, Tati and Kiska,” I say.
“Kiska?” he asks in confusion.
“Your granddaughter,” I offer. The line stays silent and I look at my phone to make sure that the call hasn’t been lost. “Sergei?” I ask.
“I never thought. The girl, Kiska, she is…” he clears his throat.
“She is mine. Now that they have been found, I am claiming my ownership over them.”
“Yes, it was agreed upon years ago, Kirill. Your father and I, this pact we made was not in vein. She is yours. I will not interfere. Where has she been these years?”
I debate telling him the truth. How would Sergei feel knowing that his daughter takes her clothes off for money? His printsessa. I don’t. Instead, I tell him most of the truth.
“That piece of shit Agent scared her, manipulated her into hiding. I thought she was dead, so I didn’t look. Once all this shit came to light, when he started really going after me, I thought about it. I got that lead and I decided to follow it, and there she was. She’s been in San Francisco this entire time, using her own name, hiding in plain sight.” I let out a heavy breath and Sergei hums before he speaks.
“Who found her then?” he asks. I curse.
“I received warning from the Cartel, if you must kno
w. Those fucks. A threat from them. Why does it fucking matter, huh? I found her, that is all that should matter,” I practically yell.
“Because Tatyana is and always will be my little shakhmatnaya figura. I knew it the day she was born. It is why I left her at such a young age. Had I not been connected to her, then she would not be used against me. It is a simple logic, Kirill,” Sergei murmurs.
“She may be your chess piece, but this has nothing to do with you. They found her and I have not been connected to her in ten years. Your logic makes no sense, old man,” I bark harshly.
“Nyet. You will have respect for me, syn. Are you sure that you are not connected to her? Use your brain, yeah? Do you not think that the Cartel could have somebody on the inside? You think that that FBI Agent does not have detailed files on you and also on her? Kiska does not have any piece of your name? I may not know my daughter well, but I know of where she comes. She would not give a child none of her father,” he says. The pieces click.
“Kiska Barysheva Orlova,” I murmur. The man laughs.
“Your child carries my name. I love this.” He continues to laugh, but it does nothing except piss me off even more.
“Not for long, old man,” I grind out, causing him to laugh even harder. Then, as suddenly as he started, he stops.
“They are never to be alone. The Cartel has someone on the inside. Now, you know. You get my shakhmatnaya figura and my little printsessa some fucking Byki’s and you do that shit fucking yesterday,” he orders.
“You think Tati is going to accept all of this? She is more like you than you realize,” I grunt.
“She does not have choice. I will be coming state side soon. Until then, you keep them safe,” he orders.
“We are on lockdown. You are not supposed to cross borders, Sergei,” I warn.
“You may not have seen my daughter for ten years, but I have not seen her for over twenty. I will watch her marry your spoiled ass. I will be there. If you put a ring on her finger before I arrive and can walk her down the aisle, I will torture you,” he states simply.
“Understood,” I mutter before he hangs up the phone.
I groan before I pick up my phone and call Radimir—my newly appointed Sovietnik, my advisor. He has a cool head and he is knowledgeable. He has been in this life; and the things we have already conquered together, he has shown that he is indispensable. Plus, Sergei trusts him like his own son.
I need him to prepare for my arrival back in Los Angeles in less than a week’s time. I don’t give him any information, just that I need a few Bkyi at my disposal when I do arrive. It is time to take my family back, to take them home. They may come kicking and screaming, but they will come.
I TRY TO NURSE my face with an ice pack and close my eyes while my apartment is still quiet. I know that once Kirill arrives to walk to the school with me, my privacy will be non-existent. I want to be so angry with him for slapping me, but I can’t be. Not really.
Our emotions were high and I allowed mine to get the best of me. I never thought he could be a man that would hurt me, but now I know. He’s cruel and ruthless, but am I any better? It’s true no man should hit a woman, but I struck him first. How is that right? It isn’t. If I do not get my emotions under control, if I do not think before I act, we will become too volatile.
The knock on the door has me stifling a groan as I stand. I walk to the sink and toss the ice pack inside before I make my way to the person waiting on the other side of the door. I know who it is.
Kiska will be out of school in thirty minutes, and it is just about time to leave to get her. I open the door and dark gray eyes meet mine. His eyes roam my face, and when they land on his red handiwork across my skin, he cringes.
Without a word, he lifts his hand and cups my bruised cheek.
“I should not have hit you,” Kirill murmurs. He looks remorseful, but I’m not quite sure I believe a damn thing he says.
“I hit you, too,” I admit, wrapping my hand around his wrist.
“Does not matter. I am a man. It was not right.”
I nod, unable to say another word to him.
I don’t know what to say, and I don’t want to ruin the way his eyes are roaming over my face. I don’t want to lose the slight bit of warmth he has in them right now. I want to soak it in for the moment. I want to soak him in for the moment and just look at him, a sight I’ve missed for far too many years.
Then, as if the spell is broken, his hand falls from my cheek and he clears his throat.
“Shall we leave then?”
“Let me grab my keys,” I murmur, walking back inside to gather my purse and my keys.
“I do not want either of you living here anymore. I have a suite at the St. Regis. It’s a two-room. I want you to pack your bags this afternoon,” he announces.
I decide not to say anything right away. I cannot respond in the heat of the moment, in anger, or we will do nothing but fight with each other. I am not the shy, sweet girl I was when we met, and he is not the caring, loving, devoted boy I once knew, either. We’re different. Our circumstances in life changed us.
I lock the front door and descend down the stairs. Once we are outside, I inhale deeply and exhale before I decide to speak to him.
“What are your plans then, Kirill? Once we move into your hotel room, what happens after that? I have to think of Kiska, her schooling, and my job.”
“Your job,” he snorts.
I stop dead in my tracks. He takes a few more steps ahead before he realizes that I’m not following him, and then he turns around to face me.
“Yes, my job,” I say, looking him straight in the eyes. He sighs before he strides up to me in my space.
“Your current job is to make men hard, to show your body off for cash. Forgive me if I don’t give it the respect you so obviously think it deserves. You can do the same thing in Los Angeles. I’ll enroll Kiska in a private school with her peers,” he murmurs, his eyes hard and focused on mine.
“Her peers?” I ask.
“Yes, her peers. Russian children that she can learn from. Children whose fathers are Bratva,” he says.
“You want to isolate her from the rest of the world,” I state. He narrows his eyes for a beat before he nods in agreement.
“As she should be. Kiska is not a normal girl with a normal family. She is the daughter of a Pakhan. You may not understand what that means, but the children she will be in school with definitely will. There are things she will see, things she will learn that she cannot share with what you call, the rest of the world.”
“Raised as an object to sell for gain, then?” I ask, knowing this direction of conversation is where our last heated debate came from.
“I will never hurt her, and I would never agree to a match that was not right for her, Tati. You must understand this. An arranged marriage is not a bad thing. I have known them to work out beautifully. You will trust me when it is time for something like that. For now, you need to understand that this move, bringing her with me, enrolling her in this school, it is non-negotiable. I would wish for you to join her, but you do not have to,” he says, his voice quiet but serious.
“I understand,” I agree. And I do.
I completely understand.
I have no desire to keep his daughter from him. We do not have much here, in the grand scheme of things, not really. But I don’t want to be completely dependent on him, either. I have been destitute before, and I never want to be there again. Though we don’t have much, we don’t need anything; our basic necessities are met and that is more than some people in the world have.
“I will agree to all of this, the move and the school, as long as I am able to continue working,” I demand. His eyes flash with a warning before the emotion leaves him and he nods.
“Yeah, you can keep showing your tits off to the world as long as you remember who they belong to,” he whispers, lowering his head so that his lips brush against my ear. “Your body is mine, Tati. You’ll be available wh
en I want you, and you’ll take what I give you.”
“You’re a bastard,” I mutter, not convinced of my words. He may be a bastard, but I still feel for him. I always will.
“No fuckin’ shit,” he grunts before he turns and walks away from me, leaving me in the middle of the sidewalk.
We don’t say another word as we make our way to the front steps of the school. I know that he has said it more than once, informed me that I am his. As much as I want to fight him, I’m not sure I can. I have never been able to resist him, ever.
It’s like my body and brain automatically go stupid where he is concerned.
I hear the school’s bell and watch as the children file out of the front door. Kiska is one of the first, and her eyes scan the parents waiting for their children. I know the moment her eyes land on Kirill’s. Her whole face lights up as bright as the sun, and she hurries in our direction.
She stands nervously in front of Kirill. Dark gray eyes meet dark gray eyes, and for a beat, they do nothing but stare. Then Kiska throws herself at him. She wraps her arms around his waist and buries her face in his middle. Kirill returns her embrace, hesitantly hugging her back for a beat before his body completely relaxes and they melt into each other’s embrace.
“You’re packing immediately,” Kirill announces, lifting his eyes to mine, my Kiska still wrapped in his arms.
“Yes,” I say.
I cannot fight him. Not on this. Not on his obvious need to be with his daughter, his obvious immediate love for her. What kind of person would I be if I did? I already feel like the worst kind of woman on the planet.
I have kept him from his daughter for nine whole years—denied him the ability to know and love the perfect creature that we created. And all for what? Fear. My fears kept me away. I’ll not allow them to control me anymore, no matter how terrifying the future looks.
It doesn’t matter.
This. This moment. This father and daughter are what matters. I don’t matter, not in the end. I am just a woman who has made a bunch of fucking mistakes. But these two, and this bond that will surely grow strong, this is what matters. My regrets are piling up, continuously. One right after the other.
Dancing for the Badman (Russian Bratva Book 3) Page 5
