Kiska is so tall. At nine years old, I expected her to be tiny, like Tatyana, but she isn’t. She is slim, too slight as I can feel her spine when I hold her, but she is not petite in stature.
I look over to Tatyana, who is staring at us with tears shining in her eyes. Her lying eyes. She’s kept my daughter from me for nine years. I hate her for it. I don’t know if I can ever forgive her for it.
“I’m so happy,” Kiska murmurs before she steps back and smiles up at me. “You’ve grown your beard. I almost didn’t recognize you.”
“What?” I ask in confusion, looking from her to Tati.
“Mama has a box of pictures from when you dated. She takes them out for my birthday every year and tells me about how you fell in love. Then when I’m sad or she’s sad we take them out and go through them together,” Kiska informs me. The air leaves my body. I am completely breathless at her words, the revelation shocking me into silence.
“Tati?” I look at her, but her eyes dart away from mine and she shakes her head before she clears her throat and begins to walk away.
Kiska takes my hand, and together we follow Tatyana back to the shithole they call home. She won’t slow down to walk with us, and I don’t know if that is because she is embarrassed by Kiska’s admission of their habits, or if she’s giving us time alone. I decide to ignore all of it and just enjoy holding my daughter’s hand.
Kiska is talking to me, telling me about her friends, nonsense that I’m not really listening to because I’m too busy enjoying her voice.
Then, we practically run into Tatyana’s back. I look up in confusion to see none other than Agent Ryan fucking Green leaning against her building.
“What happened to your face, Tatyana?” he asks, his eyes nowhere near her face, but rather focused on me.
“Nothing,” she responds coolly.
“Does that nothing mean that it ran into Kirill’s hand?”
I stiffen.
My daughter is standing next to me and he’s saying this shit. Regardless of its validity, he’s saying it in front of Kiska.
“Please, just let us pass,” she murmurs.
“I see he’s finally found you. What now? Are you going to be a happy family, then?” he chuckles.
I don’t waste another minute.
I slide up beside Tati and sling my arm over her shoulder, pulling her closer to my side.
“We are a family, Green. Where we go, or what we do is none of your concern,” I remark. His eyes narrow into tiny slits.
“That’s where you’re wrong, Baryshev. You’re my concern because I’m going to catch you. I’m going to catch you red handed, and then I’ll happily throw your ass in jail,” he practically shouts. He then takes a step even closer to me and lowers his voice. “Then I’ll take your family as my own.”
“You try and you’ll be dead,” I grind out through my clenched jaw.
“Are you threatening a federal officer?” he asks, arching his brow.
“I don’t make threats, Green,” I snort. “Now, if you’ll excuse us,” I say, guiding Tati and stepping around him, leaving him sputtering in the street as we go inside of the shithole building.
“Go and pack everything you wish to take with you. We will not be returning,” I instruct to Kiska who wisely nods and goes into her room.
“You are never to talk to him again. You see him, you ignore him, you call me, or you call one of your Byki and he’ll take care of it,” I instruct Tatyana.
“My what?” she asks.
“You and Kiska will both have body guards when we arrive in L.A.,” I announce, watching as her face reddens in what I assume is anger. I could give a fuck.
“He’s a pest, but you’re overreacting,” she shrugs as she goes to a closet and starts taking things out.
“I do not overreact,” I state. She looks back at me over her shoulder with widened eyes.
“No?” she asks arching a brow.
“Get your shit together,” I grunt.
Tatyana wisely doesn’t say another word to me. I begin to pace, wishing I could call Radimir or Maxim with this news of Green. He’s a prick beyond belief. I knew he had tried with Emiliya, stupid shit—manipulative shit. I didn’t know that with Tatyana, his tactics worked all those years ago.
I was right in my original feelings about her. She’s weak. She always has been. I blame Sergei. He left her at too young of an age; she has never known who she is, never known her place. Had she known, she would be stronger. I wish I felt less for her because of her weakness, but I don’t.
I still fucking want her.
I walk over to the fridge as the girls pack, and I open the freezer. I stand stock still, staring at the contents of Tatyana’s freezer. Beluga Noble Vodka.
“Sometimes, I just wanted to remember you,” Tatyana says softly from behind me.
I turn around, releasing the door as I do, and I just stare at her.
Unmoving.
Silently.
“It doesn’t mean anything,” she continues, losing eye contact and glancing down at her feet.
I step up to her, wrapping my hand around the side of her neck and my other around her waist. I squeeze her neck so that she’ll tip her head back to look at me. When she does, I see her green eyes shining.
It squeezes my heart and makes my stomach clench. This beautiful woman in front of me. This woman I don’t know if I can ever forgive. This woman I don’t know if I could ever love again, or if I ever stopped loving in the first place. I am so conflicted—but I know that she is mine.
“It does. It means something, Tati,” I whisper before my lips brush against hers.
“It’s just vodka,” she murmurs.
I slide my hand into the back of her hair and tighten my fingers in her strands, forcing her to look at me.
“It is not. It is my favorite brand, and it is the type I drank when we were together. It is a memory you kept all of these years. It means something,” I say.
“When I would miss you, when something would happen and my first reaction was to pick up the phone to call you, I’d take a shot. It comforted me. It made me think of all those times you would come over, get drunk, and just be. You think I left you because I didn’t love you? I didn’t. I was scared. I ran scared, Kirill. I never stopped loving you.” Her last words are on a whisper, and it guts me.
I want to believe her, but I’m not sure that I do.
Yet I still feel sad at her confession.
“You won’t have to miss me anymore,” I mutter, unsure of what else to say.
“But won’t I?” she asks. I stare at her, unable to answer her question. “You aren’t the same man, and what you want our relationship to be, it isn’t anything remotely near what it was.”
“I cannot give you what we had, Tati,” I explain with a sigh as I step back from her, releasing her completely from my grasp.
“I’m ready.” Kiska’s sweet voice floats through the apartment, halting our conversation. I’m glad for it. Grateful, even.
I do not want to finish this.
Tatyana thinks she has some semblance of control over her life, but she doesn’t. Another thing her father failed at teaching her when he went back to Russia while she was at such a young age, abandoning her.
She has no control.
She has no say in what happens to her. She is mine. She has been mine since I was fourteen years old and penned my name to the contract that made her so. I decided my fate with nothing more than a photograph of my intended. A cute, blonde, eight-year-old girl.
Tatyana Orlova, the daughter of a very powerful Pakhan in Russia. One of the most powerful Pakhan’s. At the time, I did it because my father promised me it was a lucrative business deal. I would quickly rise as a leader, solidifying our families together and ensuring my place in the Bratva. A printsessa at my side.
Later, when I met her and seduced her, I was grateful for the match. Tati was everything I wanted in a woman. She was soft and sweet, gentle and pure—mine t
hrough and through. When I thought she was dead, I was beside myself with grief. I loved her so deeply and she took all of that away from me.
Seeing her again has resurfaced all of those feelings of anger and resentment. I want to say that eventually I will be able to forgive her, that I will not hate her so deeply, but I don’t think ten years of anger can ever truly fade away.
Tatyana is mine, but I’m not sure I want her anymore.
Yet, I don’t want another to have her, either—ever.
THE ST. REGIS HOTEL is opulent and grand and everything I ever imagined it to be. The suite, however, is beyond anything I could have envisioned. It’s massive, the living area alone bigger than our entire apartment. Kiska is beside herself with glee, running around and checking everything out. I’m too busy staring at the city and the bay below us.
“This room is yours, Kiska, until we leave for Los Angeles,” I overhear Kirill telling her.
I turn to look at him pointing in the direction of the second bedroom. I watch as she quickly rushes into the room to investigate it.
“Where will I be sleeping, then?” I ask, my eyes taking him in. He’s so devilishly handsome that it almost hurts to keep looking at him.
“With me, Tati,” he grunts.
“I don’t think that’s a good idea,” I murmur.
In fact, I know that it’s not a good idea. I’ll want him to hold me, and I’ll get these crazy ideas that we could be more than just physical. My mind will play off of the obvious emotional love that I hold for him. I’ll start to wish and hope and then pray for more. More that he has already said he will not give me. No, I need my own space.
“It is. Kiska needs to get used to it, as do you. You are not leaving me anytime soon. Even if our relationship is less than perfect, we are still together.” He says interrupting my inner thoughts.
“But when we aren’t?” I ask, biting the corner of my mouth, chewing my bottom lip.
“What I do is not your concern. What you do is very much mine,” he states, his cold gaze boring into me.
“That’s a shitty double standard,” I point out as my heart aches. It hurts inside of my chest and I have to hold back the tears that are threatening to fall.
“It may be, but it is life, Tati. It is your life now. We all make decisions that change the course of our lives. You chose to leave me the way you did. To believe a dirty cop. I mourned you and what I thought was the loss of our child.
“Now, the consequences are that you live with my rules. Those rules are that your body is mine. Not a hard concept. You’ll be available to me, and in return you’ll have a place to live, clothes, and food. If you wish to work, whatever money you make is yours to keep for yourself. If you cannot live with these rules, you are free to leave, but Kiska will not be joining you.”
Kirill turns and leaves, walking into the master bedroom and quietly closing the door behind him. His words ring in my ears, over and over again as I turn back and face the calming water. I want to cry, to break things, to throw a tantrum.
I don’t.
Instead, I just stare out, not seeing anything ahead of me but seeing everything else a bit clearer. I love him, I always will, but at what cost? At what cost to me, to my heart, to my soul? It is going to kill me slowly. I must find a way to just resign to this life, to this arrangement.
Kirill wants to hurt me. He thought me dead and that I took the life of his child with me.
I could not imagine the pain that would cause. I should be more compassionate of his feelings. He’s lashing out at me. I have seen glimpses of his true self shine through. Moments where he didn’t seem so callous and hardened by life.
Maybe I can bring him back. Maybe if I love him enough, show him enough affection, and give him all of me, he will forgive me—eventually.
I nod to myself. This plan could work, or it could blow up in my face. I will never know if I don’t try. Anyway, all of this is my fault and nobody else’s.
It is a beautiful thing, seeing a father and daughter together. Kiska and Kirill are like twins. They do little things the exact same way; like the way they scrunch up their noses when they’re trying to think of what they are going to say next. The way they eat their chips, dipped in plain sour cream. It is worth the heartache I will endure, simply seeing them together.
I stand back, watching, staying out of the way so that they can have their moment together. They don’t need me in the middle of their bonding. I’ve had her to myself for nine years. Kirill deserves some time as well. If I were a less selfish woman, I would let him have her and stay here, only seeing her on occasion. I couldn’t do that, though. Kiska is a part of me. I wouldn’t be whole without her.
“We will move on Friday. The school is being notified, and tomorrow I’ll ask for Kiska’s records. My assistant is going to help you with the house and anything else you might need,” Kirill announces. I do nothing but nod.
“Tatyana,” he calls. I turn to face him.
I’m staring out at the bay again. I have been for the past few hours, leaving him and Kiska to their bonding. I’m trying to stay out of the way while still being present, in case she needs me. Or maybe, in case I need her. I’m not sure.
Lately, I feel as though Kiska has been the one taking care of me and not the other way around. I haven’t been able to give her an easy life, but hopefully, all that has changed now.
“Yes, Kirill,” I murmur, looking over at him.
His once crisply ironed, black, button up shirt is now untucked and wrinkled, the top few buttons undone, showing off a bit more of his delicious chest. His pants are creased as well, and I wonder when he took his shoes off, because he’s only in his socks.
“You’ll like L.A. It’s just as pretty as it is here.” He nods out at the skyline. I can do nothing but shrug.
“I’m sure it is. I haven’t really spent much time noticing how the city looks. I’ve been too busy living down in it,” I mutter. “Speaking of, I need to go to the club and resign. Also, I work tonight.”
“Not tonight,” he grunts. I sigh.
“I’m not going to leave them shorthanded, Kirill. It’s my last shift before I get a few days off. I’ll tell them that it’s my last shift in general,” I announce.
“I don’t want you going down there, it’s not safe and I have no Byki here,” he says. His voice is hard and unrelenting.
“Fine,” I sigh as I take my phone out of my cardigan’s pocket and call my manager.
I explain to him that I have to move, that it’s an emergency—sudden and completely unexpected. I apologize, but he’s more than gracious with me. I’ve known him for eight years. He’s the man who hired me. He stops my rambling and tells me to take care of myself, to take care of Kiska. Then he says he’ll be a reference for any club I want to work at in the future. I thank him over and over again before I hang up the phone.
“All is well?” Kirill asks a few minutes later.
“Where is Kiska?”
“She wanted to read before bed. I figured it had to be close to her bedtime, right?” he says as he walks up next to me. I still haven’t moved from my spot near the window.
“It is. She enjoys reading before bed,” I murmur.
“Like somebody else I know,” he whispers as his hand gently rests on my shoulder. His thumb rubs circles against the base of my neck.
I close my eyes for a moment and enjoy his hand on me. I also think back to a time when, much like Kiska, I would lie in bed and read before I could sleep. It didn’t matter if he had physically worn me out or not. I loved to read. I haven’t picked up a book since she was born. I’ve been too busy and too exhausted to; I also haven’t wanted to. It would make me think of him and I didn’t want to think of him if I didn’t have to. All thoughts of Kirill depressed me.
“Not anymore,” I whisper.
I feel his lips touch my neck and then wrap around my earlobe before his teeth sink down in my flesh.
“You should. You enjoyed it so,” h
e whispers as his hand slides around my waist and up to cup my breast.
“I’m not the same girl I was,” I say.
“No, you are not. But it was something you enjoyed. You will have the time again, Tati. You can do whatever you please with your free time now,” he whispers against my neck.
His warm breath sends goosebumps over my skin that I cannot control. His words, however, hurt me. Free-time, as if I am a prisoner or a child. In all honestly, I suppose that I am.
“I don’t enjoy it anymore, Kirill,” I lie. I flat out lie.
“Then you will find a new hobby. It doesn’t matter. You have money and time at your disposal now,” he says, taking a step back from me.
I turn around to face him and am surprised to see such ferocious anger swimming in his eyes. I look down, avoiding his penetrating gaze, and sigh.
Money and time, both luxuries I have not been able to reward myself with these past years; both things that he can give me now; both things coming with a price tag I don’t think I’m capable of being able to pay.
My freedom and my heart.
My heart has always been his, always will be. But my freedom, I’m not sure I want to give that up.
Without a word, he wraps his hand around my wrist and tugs me toward the bedroom, our bedroom. I don’t know how Kiska will react. She’ll probably be pleased to think of us as together—rekindled. She is much like me when I was a child, a hopeless romantic—before life threw me curveball after curveball.
Kirill pulls me into the room and locks the door behind me. He’s still angry. At what, I’m not sure. Can he be so angry that I don’t read any longer? That I don’t enjoy the things I once did an entire lifetime ago?
“Dance for me,” he orders as he walks over to the nightstand. He places his phone into the speaker dock and turns the volume up.
The tune is sexy and low. No words, just music. I had forgotten this about him. My Kirill enjoyed music. He would always say that lyrics were merely a distraction. He wanted to hear the actual notes of each song. He said the story the music told was usually so different than the lyrics portrayed. I loved that about him. Not very often would he show any sensitivities, but in this, he reminded me of a poet or a painter who enjoyed scenery.
Dancing for the Badman (Russian Bratva Book 3) Page 6
