Dancing for the Badman (Russian Bratva Book 3)

by Hayley Faiman

  “This is Tatyana Orlova, and she would like a job,” Ziven explains. The man’s eyes widen and then his smirk becomes a big smile.

  “What do you want to do, then? Wait tables?” he asks, chuckling under his breath. It irritates me that this is some kind of joke to him.

  “I dance,” I state.

  His eyebrows shoot up before he begins speaking rapid Russian. A few moments later, Ziven responds to him and they both laugh. I can’t help but think that this laughter is aimed at me.

  “What are you guys saying?” I ask putting my hand on my hip.

  “You don’t speak Russian?” the man behind the bar says.

  “No, why would I?” I ask.

  I know my father was Russian, but just because I am by heritage does not mean I know what the fuck they’re saying.

  “You’re Tatyana Orlova,” he states.

  I just stare at him, unsure of how to respond to that. Apparently my name means something, but I don’t know what. I choose to ignore the oddity and ask his name.

  “Semion,” he murmurs.

  “Simon, okay got it.”

  “No, Semion,” he says curtly. I just nod. He’ll be Simon to me, and maybe I’ll just call him boss-man instead.

  “Show me your dancing,” he grunts before he leaves the bar and walks over to the sound system.

  I should be embarrassed that Ziven is going to witness this, but I’m not. I’ve danced in front of, and for, so many men, it’s not a big deal to me anymore.

  I make my way on stage and shimmy out of my skirt and top, because they are not going to be anything remotely sexy to remove on stage. Then I step up to the pole and I start to dance.

  As I dance, the room melts away. I don’t see the men’s eyes on me and I don’t even see them. All I do is feel. I feel the way my body sways and I feel the strength of the pole as I wrap myself around it. Spinning, twisting, and using it as my base.

  Every move is performed with precision—learned movements to showcase my sexuality and making me appear sensual. When the song ends, I’m topless and standing in the middle of the stage.

  “You’re hired. I will send Ziven your schedule,” Semion shouts from his place in the center of the room.

  I hurry and put my clothes back on before I say a thanks to him and shake his hand. Ziven doesn’t allow me to dally, he places his hand at the small of my back and guides me out of the club.

  Obnazhennyy.

  My new job.

  I hope that Semion and the rest of the staff are as great as my old club in San Francisco. It’s true that being on stage gives you a rush like no other, but that doesn’t mean I enjoy it. I don’t. However, I am not going to be completely helpless and penniless. If Kirill and I don’t work out our lives together, then I’ll need income and a job. This will provide for me—this has provided for years.

  “You are very good at that, you know?” Ziven asks once we are back in the car.

  “Thank you,” I murmur, suddenly too shy to look him in the eye.

  “I was surprised when Kirill didn’t object to you dancing. I took you there because it’s a club where I know the owner, and I know that you will be safe and treated with the dignity of your station,” he says. I don’t quite understand all of his words or meanings.

  “Dignity?” I scoff.

  “Yes, dignity,” he says before he continues. “You are Tatyana Orlova, you are not some girl off the streets. You have a place in this community. And once you’re Tatyana Barysheva, your place will be even more elevated. He runs this area, Tati. He is the most powerful man in Southern California. You will have your own personal Byki when they are assigned. He will always be with you because you will always be a target,” he explains.

  “A target for who, Agent Green?” I ask, completely confused.

  “He’s such a small piece of the equation. A blip on the radar. The less you know, the better; but trust me Tati, you need to be cautious, always.”

  I open my mouth to ask another question, but we’re at our destination, the grocery store. I don’t get the chance to say anything else. We spend the better part of two hours filling up two carts full of food and basics. Kirill has nothing, not even flour and sugar. I like to cook and bake, so we need a stocked kitchen.

  Ziven laughs as we take our carts to the register. The woman behind the counter’s eyes widen as she begins to ring everything up. This will be at least a thousand dollars, but Kirill can cover the cost. After he made me abandon my entire apartment and my life, he can pay for the food.

  After our shopping trip, Ziven and I head back to the house. Kirill’s car isn’t in the driveway so I know that he and Kiska aren’t home yet. I go inside and get started organizing the huge grocery haul.

  “I just got off the phone with the movers and your things have been placed in a storage unit here in town. Everything but your furniture. Kirill deemed those items as unnecessary so they gave them to charity.”

  I pause where I am and look up at him in shock. I thought it was all gone. I brought some clothes and my shoebox full of memories, but everything else I figured was trash.

  “Seriously?” I breathe.

  “Yeah, he said he brought you back here quickly and you were unable to pack your things. What did you think he did with it all?” Ziven asks.

  I look up at him with tears shining in my eyes.

  “I thought he was going to let my landlord throw everything out,” I sob.

  Ziven doesn’t waste a minute. He runs to my side and as soon as his outstretched arms are within my vision, I launch myself at him, burying my face in his neck as I cry. And that is how Kirill finds us seconds later.

  Embracing each other.

  I walk into the kitchen, happy about the turn of events for the day. I took Kiska over to her new private school and we toured the campus. Just her and me.

  The facility was better than I imagined, and I was glad to see many of my men’s children in attendance in the classrooms we passed. I think that this will be a positive change for Kiska.

  They have Russian history lessons and language classes. I am glad that she will be learning of her heritage, something that Tatyana’s mother failed her in.

  Once we finish the tour and I give the headmistress all of Kiska’s papers, she informs me that she will be able to start school the following Monday and hands me a list of supplies I need to buy for her, including uniforms.

  Kiska and I go for ice cream and then head home. She wants to swim, and I can’t help but give her that. She will be busy once school begins, and I’ll be immersed in work shortly. I have a few out of town meetings set in the next couple of weeks, so I won’t be around too much.

  “Did you fix things?” she quietly asks as we pull into the driveway.

  I notice that Ziven’s car is here, so they must be back from their errands as well.

  “Fix what, hmm?” I ask, even though I know exactly what she’s referring to.

  “You and mom and that horrible Sabina woman,” she says, wrinkling her nose in disgust.

  Sabina is a terrible person, but she’s good at her job and she’s a great lay.

  “Sabina and I used to date, she is having a hard time letting go,” I gently explain.

  Kiska is too young to know the whole truth.

  “So you aren’t kissing and dating her anymore?” she asks. Her innocence astounds me.

  I wonder how my daughter, who is nine years old, with a mother who has stripped her entire life, is so innocent? When I was nine years old, I was smoking and drinking with my father. I knew about sex and I was excited to try it. I was not referring to things as kissing and dating. I knew what fucking was.

  “No, Kiska, I’m not kissing nor dating anybody. It is just your mother and me; we’re going to get married soon.”

  “Yeah, cool,” she whispers before she turns and grins up at me.

  “Let’s get inside. Go put your suit on, and you can swim some before dinner,” I say. I don’t get the full sentence out
before she’s out of the car and running inside.

  I watch after her for a moment before I make my way inside as well. The house is quiet and I wonder where Ziven and Tati are as I search each room. I make my way into the kitchen and stop dead in my tracks.

  They are in the kitchen, and Tatyana is in his arms. I can’t stop the rage that fills me at the sight of them touching each other, let alone how intimate they look.

  I don’t let my anger rule me. I haven’t for many years. When you let your anger control you, you become weak. I am not weak by any means. I have strength like no person can believe, yet this sight could make me break all of the rules. I want to pull out my gun and shoot him right in the head, no questions asked. I still might once this is finished.

  “Am I interrupting you?” I ask, keeping my voice even and calm—the exact opposite of the rage building inside of me.

  “No, not at all. I was just crying and Ziven was comforting me,” Tatyana explains, taking a step back from her embrace with my man.

  I arch a brow looking at Ziven, but his face is blank, completely and totally blank.

  “I have business that needs to be completed today. Is there anything else you need?” he asks me.

  It makes me curious, his turn. He’s not the joking man that he normally is. Something has happened.

  “No,” I say.

  I watch him say goodbye to Tati and then I turn and follow him without a glance back to her. I aim to get to the bottom of his mood shift and that fucking hug I walked in on. It’s bullshit, it stinks and I don’t like it.

  “Explain yourself,” I order once we are away from the house.

  “What she says is true. She was crying and I couldn’t let her just cry alone. So I put my arm around her,” he shrugs.

  “Why was she crying?” I demand.

  “I told her that her shit was in storage. She didn’t know you had it packed and moved here. She thought you were just going to let her landlord trash it all.”

  “I didn’t tell her what I was doing with it, but why would she cry?” I ask confused.

  “Because you’ve been a dick, Kirill. She doesn’t know what the fuck you’re thinking. Nobody does. You’re so hard and closed off and brutal. Which is good for business, yeah? But not so good for the woman who shares your bed. You need to learn to let her in a little,” he counsels.

  “No, I don’t. But thank you for your unsolicited advice,” I murmur.

  I don’t tell him that I gave her everything once and she ran from me. I loved her with everything and she ran, sprinted. I won’t let her hurt me again, ever. Maybe I’m cold and unfeeling on the outside, but I felt too much back then, and the hurt lingered for too long. Never again.

  “Do whatever you wish, boss. Now I have some debts to collect. When will her Byki be assigned?”

  I don’t miss Ziven’s anger directed toward me. I wish shit was different between Tati and me. I wish that I could agree with his advice, but I don’t. I’m thirty-four years old, I don’t plan on changing anytime soon; and if Tati can’t be happy with the man I am today, she’s sure as shit not ever going to be happy. She needs to accept her fate and accept me as I am.

  This is what she’s getting. It is on her that I am cold and indifferent, not me.

  I didn’t leave.

  “They will be arriving Monday morning. I didn’t want them to show when Kiska was home,” I say. He nods. “I have some paperwork to do—stupid computer shit I can do from home tomorrow. Then Friday I have meetings all day, so I’ll need you here early.”

  “Yes, boss,” Ziven mutters as he slides into the front seat of his car.

  I stand in the driveway and watch him back out. I shouldn’t be pissed off. He explained the situation and it adds up, it makes sense. Besides, Ziven wouldn’t try to take what’s mine. I’ve known him too many years for that shit. But I can’t allow this to slide. Tatyana needs to know what is acceptable and what is not. Her friendship with Ziven is one thing, her embracing him—touching him—is another.

  My phone rings just as I am about to go inside to discuss this with her. I look down at the number and close my eyes. This is the call I have been waiting for. I answer it and am not surprised at the gravelly voice on the other end.

  “Mr. Baryshev, to what do I owe the pleasure of your insistence that I contact you,” the man rumbles.

  “MadDog, I would like to meet with you,” I say.

  “You come to me then, Ruskie,” he demands. I want to roll my eyes at the term.

  “When?”

  I have to play nice. I want to work with them, I don’t want to piss them off. If we take away the Cartel’s mules, then we hurt them. Eventually, I want to destroy all of them. Our men all over the country and in Canada will be so happy to have them gone, or at least cut down to size.

  “Wednesday, one week from now,” he offers. I don’t want to make another trip to Northern California, but for this, I’ll happily go.

  “Yes, I will see you then,” I agree.

  “And Kirill, minimum men, understand? Do not come into my territory with an army,” he grunts.

  Little does he know that I don’t have enough men to spare to bring an army. They are all busy, collecting money and trying to sell the few drugs we still have a steady supply of.

  Luckily, this freeze has boosted the men to seek other avenues of making money. Strip clubs and brothels have always been lucrative; but now that they can’t make the fast money from drug sales, they’ve started an underground BDSM club as well.

  I end the call, confirming that I will see him in one week, with minimum men at my back. Sergei will be in the country by then and I’ll bring him. He alone is like having ten men at my side. He’s fucking ruthless. I also make phone calls to both Pasha and Yakov. Pasha is a major Pakhan in New York and Yakov, is a newer Pakhan with an inherited army of his own, he’s also a major player in the business side of our organization.

  Then I go inside to deal with Tati.

  Maybe I’ll spank her as her punishment for touching another man.

  KISKA COMES BOUNDING INSIDE of the kitchen in her swim suit and begins to tell me all about her new school. I would have liked to tour it with her as well, but listening to her go on and on about it and seeing the excitement in her eyes is all I need. She’s happy.

  “I’m going to swim before dinner. What’s for dinner?” she asks.

  “I went to the store, so what would you like?” I ask, giving her the option for tonight.

  “Taco casserole,” she says with wide eyes.

  I should tell her no. Kirill would hate it, but she’s happy and excited and I find it hard to tell my girl no normally; when she’s excited, it’s impossible.

  “Okay, Kiska girl,” I murmur. She hollers a thanks before she runs outside.

  “What should your punishment be?” Kirill’s deep voice rumbles through the kitchen, causing me to jump at the sound.

  “For what?” I ask turning to face him. His dark gray eyes search mine before his hand reaches out and cups my cheek.

  “For allowing another man to touch what is mine,” he growls.

  “You do know that I’ll be dancing again, right?” I ask.

  “We’ll talk about that later. Right now, tell me what you wish your punishment to be for allowing another man to hold you.”

  “Kirill,” I sigh, annoyed and slightly turned on all at the same time.

  “Tonight, when the house is quiet, I’m going to spank that gorgeous ass of yours, Tati. I’m going to paint it red, and you’ll take it until my hand is tired. Then next time you will think twice about grasping onto another man again.”

  I inhale a shaky breath as I keep my eyes glued to his.

  “Yes, sir,” I murmur.

  Kirill’s hand slides from my cheek to around the back of my neck. He squeezes me gently before he leans down and brushes his lips against my cheek, moving them to my ear. I try to suppress the shiver that takes over my body at his nearness, but I fail.


  “You just bought yourself a tad bit of leniency,” he mutters.

  “Kiska,” I whisper.

  “Is outside swimming, and she knows you’re the only woman I’ll be kissing and dating from now on,” he grumbles. I take a step back and look up at him in question.

  “You were right; she was upset that she thought I was cheating on her mother. I talked to her. She wanted to make sure I saved all my kisses for you and only dated you,” he smirks before he winks.

  “Date me?” I ask in confusion.

  “Our angel is innocent, Tati, isn’t she? She doesn’t know of the birds and bees yet, right?”

  I don’t know if I should be offended by his question or proud. I have tried hard to keep Kiska a young girl for as long as possible. I didn’t want her to grow up too fast. If I could keep her innocent forever, I would. I am realistic, but she’s nine. She doesn’t need to know about such things yet.

  “No. If I could put her in a bubble, I would,” I admit. He chuckles softly before he shakes his head.

  “She will grow up soon enough. I like her being so young. Thank you for that,” he murmurs before he presses his lips to mine, gently.

  I lean into him, hoping that he’ll take it deeper, harder, but he doesn’t. He keeps it soft and sweet—a total contradiction to the warning and promise he has just issued me.

  “I need to make dinner,” I sigh once he breaks our kiss.

  “What are you making?” he asks, turning from me to open up the fridge. I watch as he takes a bottle of water out and twists the cap off. He puts the bottle to his lips before I speak again.

  “Taco casserole,” I say. Kirill makes the most disgusted looking face and turns to me with his nose wrinkled.

  “Why on earth would you make me that, Tati? My tastes in food have not changed drastically over the past decade. I still cannot stand Mexican food.”

  “Kiska wanted it. She was so excited I had gone to the store this afternoon. I couldn’t tell her no,” I giggle.

  “I may need a paternity test. She is clearly not my child,” he grumbles.

  I could be offended by his words, but instead I laugh. She is his one hundred percent; not only biologically, but in looks and personality as well.