I shake my head. My father has a few tattoos, and so do my brothers, but nothing major. Nothing as grand as what Timofei has, a tiger’s head encompassing his entire back. It looks almost real, except for the fact that it’s a unique shade of blue.
I watch as he turns around, and this time I control my gasp. I was so nervous last night that I didn’t even notice the ink on his torso. He has a Russian church with domes on his chest, a very detailed spider on his shoulder, and a crucifix that is on his side from armpit down to hip.
Then my eyes travel the length of his body, and I notice he has stars on each one of his knees. My eyes take in his arms. One is completely bare, but the other is littered with even more ink, all the way to the top of his hand and fingers.
“I don’t understand,” I murmur.
His eyes narrow slightly and he’s yanked his vulnerability away from me again, closing himself off. “You don’t need to, Devyn. Just know, every man in the Bratva who has ink, nine times out of ten, they’ve earned every single stroke of the needle. I haven’t earned all of mine because I was a spoiled ass fucking brat.”
“But you’ve earned some of them?” I ask. His jaw hardens as his nostrils flare.
“Yeah, and I’m about to earn some new ones, too. None of this is your concern,” he snaps.
He’s standing naked, his hands on his hips and his eyes narrowed at me. I choose to get to my knees, my slip covering me as I crawl over to him, hesitantly placing my hands on his chest. “I like them. They’re like nothing I’ve ever seen before, Fei. I don’t need to know what you have to do to earn more as long as you come home to me.”
I suck in a breath when he wraps one hand around my waist and fists my hair with his other at the back of my head tugging and causing my neck to arch. I keep my eyes on him and my face calm. My heart is pounding inside of my chest and threatening to jump out of my ribs, I’m so nervous.
“I will never leave you vulnerable, devochka, not if I can help it. I will protect you with my life, Devvy. No matter what happens to me, you will always be safe,” he stats ominously. It doesn’t help my frantically beating heart, and I give a slight jerk of my head to show my understanding. “Now, let’s shower, then we’ll go downstairs and you can get to know my people, your new people,” he grins, all anger and irritation somehow melted away.
Timofei releases me and turns to walk in the bathroom. Once he’s in the doorway, he looks back at me and lifts his chin. I scramble off of the bed and follow him, scared that if I deny him he’ll get angry again. I have no read on him, on his personality or moods. It seems like he can switch off his anger as quickly as it comes on, and that scares me.
Timofei presses his hand against my lower back as we make our way to the elevator. He received a text about five minutes ago from his brother-in-law, informing him that they had arrived and that everything was set up in the private room. Timofei explained that big family style meals are their thing, always have been. For every occasion, for every party, there is also a big meal that follows with this same small group of people that he considers friends and family.
“Fei,” I murmur. We stop walking as he looks down at me. We’re only a few feet from the room where the rest of the party waits. “Do we have to go to this, I just…” I trail off. Timofei smirks, shaking his head.
“My sister is in there, my nephew, and a bunch of other close friends. All people I love and respect, devochka, all people that are excited to get to know you better,” he explains.
I honestly just want to go back to the room and try to process everything, including the baby information I just learned about. Except, the way he talks about them, it makes me want to walk into that room. I think about what he said in regards to the tattoos, what he’s eluded to for the future, and all of it terrifies me.
He doesn’t let me freak out, not for even another breath. I watch as he reaches for the door that leads into the room. Timofei opens the door and I hold my breath, sticking close to his back, and my eyes widen when I see the room full of people. There is also a small table off to the side that has too many children to count.
“Kiska was hungry, and she was refusing to help with the kids unless we brought her with us,” a curvy blonde says as she stands.
In fact, everybody in the room stands, aside from the children. Then they start to clap and yell their congratulations.
“We always sit boys on one side, girls on the other, but we saved you two seats in the middle,” Oksana states with a wide smile as she waves her hand toward two empty chairs.
Timofei wraps his hand around mine and tugs us toward the table. We sit down and, immediately, a waiter appears to take our drink orders. I’m surprised when Timofei orders a vodka. I order a water and Oksana says to bring a dozen mimosas with my water as well.
“You’ll like them, and you probably need something to help relax you after your wedding and everything,” she shrugs, holding her baby. He’s sitting on her lap, his back resting against her chest as he looks around at all of the action.
“You’re never going to remember all of our names, but I feel like we need to have introductions anyway,” a pretty blonde says, the one that danced with Timofei last night. “I’m Haleigh, I live in California. This is Tatyana,” she says, pointing to the other blonde, the one who talked about a girl being hungry when we walked in.
“My teenager is over at the kids table helping us out. Her name is Kiska,” Tatyana says with a warm smile.
“I’m Emiliya,” a dark haired, brunette with a Russian accent states. Her blue eyes look me over, and she watches me, causing me to squirm. She’s extremely intimidating. “I didn’t expect black hair. I thought the Irish were mostly redheads,” she says. I can’t help but laugh.
“I thought Russian’s had blonde hair,” I shrug, keeping eye contact with her. She grins before she turns to Haleigh. “I like her already. Young, but not too weak.”
Oksana introduces several other women, Inessa, Quinn, and Ashley. The one person I don’t see from looking around is Timofei’s father, Pasha, and I’m grateful, extremely grateful. He scares the absolute shit out of me.
As soon as the food arrives, the women all start talking. A petite blonde next to me, who was introduced as Ashley, turns and looks me over before she speaks. “How are you really doing?”
I’m surprised by her question, but she doesn’t look like she’s fishing for any information. I’m a pretty good judge when someone is trying to play me, and she looks like she’s genuinely concerned. I still don’t answer verbally. I decide to give her a smile and shrug.
“I’m married to the Pakhan of Staten Island,” she states. My eyes widen in surprise. “Yakov is mine,” she smiles with a small laugh. “We’re going to be friends, you and me, since our husband’s will be working so closely together. Tell me, how are you really feeling?”
“Nervous,” I admit. She frowns slightly in confusion, so I explain a bit. “I didn’t know the details of our contract. I didn’t know that I have to get pregnant within a year or it’s void. I’m scared of what will happen if I have to go back,” I say with trembling lips.
“Nobody will let that happen,” the brunette, Inessa, states from the other side of Ashley. “You’re one of us now, baby or not. No way will he send you anywhere. The Russian men do not dismiss their women so easily.”
I think about Inessa’s words, and Ashley gives my hand a squeeze as she turns back to her plate of food. I want to think that after last night and this morning, that Timofei wouldn’t just toss me back to my father because it states it in the contract. But I don’t know. I honestly do not know. I don’t know him.
I want to believe that he feels something for me. I hate it, too. I hate that I was forced to marry a stranger and now, instead of focusing on getting to know him and hopefully liking what I find out, I’m going to be worried about this. It will be hanging over my head every month while I wait to see if I’m staying or leaving.
Why does it all have to be so comp
licated?
“Don’t worry about anything. Hey, you get a honeymoon!” Inessa snaps, pointing at me. “I don’t think any of us really got one,” she says, furrowing her brows.
“Oksana did,” Tatyana laughs.
“Being carted out of my own wedding over Mika’s shoulder and then getting thrown on a plane headed for Russia was not a honeymoon,” she frowns.
“You want a vacation, lapochka?” Mika calls out from the other side of the table. Oksana’s eyes widen. “Pick a place, we’ll go; but Misha comes with us.”
“It’s not a honeymoon if you bring a baby, Mika,” she says, shaking her head with a grin.
I watch as Mika points toward her, and I can tell he’s fighting his own smile. “Wherever you want to go, lapochka, I’ll take you. But I want all of my family together.”
I watch in awe as Oksana’s eyes soften. Something that looks like, understanding crosses her features before she speaks. “Okay, how about Rome?” she asks just above a whisper.
He shrugs. “Pizza and ice cream, fucking shit,” he chuckles shaking his head. “I’ll take you, Oksana.”
“He loves her,” Timofei whispers in my ear, startling me and making me jump. I turn to face him and look at him with bewilderment. “They met once, at a party where my sister was supposed to choose her husband. She chose him,” Timofei explains.
I don’t know why he’s telling me this or what he means by it all. He doesn’t explain himself, he just turns and starts talking to someone else.
“Give it time, Devyn,” Ashley murmurs next to me.
“Give what, time?” I ask.
“Everything. When you get back, you, me, and Inessa, if she’s not knee deep in work, will go out and have some girl time together. We’ll all get to know each other, and you can ask us whatever you want to about this life. Anything at all.”
I jerk my head in a nod, not wishing to talk about anything else. I am so confused, talks of contracts and babies, and love. I just want to curl into a ball and cry.
I’m also extremely confused about my husband, about his talk of love. I want that. I always have wanted that, but I didn’t think it would be possible. Now that he’s speaking about it, it makes me hope. Hoping is the last freaking thing I need to do right now.
“YOU’VE MADE CONTACT WITH our man in Paris?” Yakov asks.
We’re all outside of the hotel—the women and children still chatting around their brunch. The men, myself included, feigning a need for a smoke have all come outside to talk about the plan. “I have. He and I are meeting Monday morning when I arrive,” I state. “My father is following me to Paris.”
“He’s what?” Dominik asks, his brow shooting straight up in surprise.
“Konstantin texted me last night. My father’s voiced that he’ll be checking up on me during my honeymoon, but has yet to say when. He’s keeping an eye out for me. Fuck me. As much as I want to end this, it can’t happen overseas,” I murmur.
Yakov grunts with a nod before he speaks. “It has to be here; and it has to be publicly, to prove a point, and to make your takeover crystal fucking clear to his men.”
I nod in agreement, letting out a heavy sigh. This whole thing makes me nervous. Beyond that, it makes me anxious. I want it over with, and I hope to fuck that it doesn’t have to be deadly. I have a feeling that it very well could be. As much as I don’t want that, I’m prepared for it to go down like that.
“I don’t understand why he wants to follow you to Paris,” Kirill murmurs, rubbing his jaw with his hand. “There has to be a reason. Watch your back, yeah?”
Nodding, I take a gulp of vodka. “You don’t think he suspects—that he would get rid of me, do you?”
My father isn’t stupid. He’s been in a high position of power for a long time, and for good fucking reason. He’s smart and he’s tough as shit, always staying one step ahead of his enemies. The question is, does he see me as an enemy yet?
“He’s still pretty focused on Mika, and I heard he’s been talking with the Cartel behind the Motorcycle Club’s back. That will earn him some major fucking enemies, by the way—enemies we don’t need or want. As far as I know, it’s all just talk. No deals have been struck, but we need him out of power before he starts signing more contracts,” Yakov explains.
I look to the Staten Island Pakhan and shake my head. “He still hasn’t called the hit off of Mika?”
He doesn’t know that we’ve made it more than clear that if something happens to Mika, there will the entire Bratva’s hell to pay. That doesn’t make my father’s further attempts to kill my brother-in-law, my Bratva brother, and the father of my nephew any less frustrating.
“Keeps asking for updates, according to Konstantin,” Yakov grunts, shaking his head.
“After your honeymoon, this shit ends, yeah?” Maxim asks, taking a drag from a cigar.
I lift my chin and grin. “It’s fucking done. He’s not dragging the Bratva back with the Cartel, he’s not fucking our relationship with the Notorious Devils, and he’s not going to kill the man who loves Oksana. I’ll set up a meeting with him for when I return, on collection day,” I state.
“Everyone will be there, all together,” Yakov points out.
“Exactly.”
Collection day is that day, every other week, when all of the Brigadier’s bring in the earnings from their business ventures—drug sales, gun sales, whore sales, and nightclub revenues—to pay tribute. My father counts them and takes the Bratva’s percentage before giving their portion back to the brigadiers to divvy up amongst their men. Then as a group, the men drink and relax.
It’s the prime moment to take over. Only higher ranking Bratva men will be around, and all guns are left at the door. Three weeks from now will be the first one I’ll be able to attend after my trip to France.
“If I send you the details, you’ll be there with reinforcements?” I ask, turning to Yakov.
“Yes. Dominik and some of my other men will join me. We’ll make this as quick as possible; but Timofei, it will be up to you to hold onto your title, to defend it, and to prove yourself a capable Pakhan.”
“I’ve put a lot of thought into this the past few months. In fact, it’s all I have been able to think about, and I’m ready. It’s not something I’m looking forward to, but I’m prepared,” I state. The men look at me somberly before each of them nods. They know as well as I do how very likely death will be the only way this will end.
We walk back into the hotel restaurant and return to the room where all of the women are. They’re still chatting, most of them holding a child or two in their laps, and I can’t help but grin. It’s a beautiful sight to see so many children fill this space, to see my brothers’ lives so full and happy.
Ten years ago, this scene would never have been. Perhaps they would have had a child or two, but their fate would already be written. Now, though tradition is very much still an important aspect of the Bratva families, their futures are not all completely set in stone anymore.
“Ready?” I ask as I place my hand on Devyn’s shoulder with a squeeze. She looks back at me and a blush tints her cheeks pink before she nods.
It takes us at least forty-five minutes to actually say goodbye to everyone and head back upstairs. We only have another hour before our flight takes off, and I need to make sure that Devyn is ready for the trip. I don’t know how long it will take her to be completely ready to leave.
We walk into the suite, and I’m feeling nervous. In just a few hours, we’re going to be leaving the country. Other than a short trip to Ireland when I was little, which I don’t even remember, I’ve never even left New York. I have a current passport because my father always made sure we had them, in case something happened, and we needed to flee.
“How long will it take you to be ready for the flight?” Timofei asks distractedly as he punches buttons on his phone.
“Not long. I just have to put all my bathroom stuff back in my bag,” I say as my eyes scan the room. Then I se
e my wedding dress in a crumpled pile on the floor, sitting where we left it last night. “What am I going to do with my dress?” I ask.
Timofei looks up from his phone, his lips pressed together and a look of confusion on his face. Then he smirks. “Leave it here, let a maid take it home,” he shrugs. I gasp in horror, thinking about leaving my beautiful dress in the hotel. “Do you want to keep it?” he asks in surprise.
“I thought that I would use the material to make a christening gown when we have children,” I murmur as I bend down, picking up the dress.
Timofei’s heat is suddenly at my back, and he slips the dress from my hands, letting it fall back to the ground. He then spins me around with an unreadable look on his face.
Without warning, his lips are on mine, and his hands are hiking up the skirt of my dress. He grabs my ass, and I can’t hold back my moan as I arch closer to him.
His lips travel down my neck and stop just where my dress neckline begins. With a squeeze of my ass, he instructs me to turn around. I do so with hesitancy, unsure of what he will do next. I feel his fingers in the side of my panties before he wrenches them down my legs.
“Spread for me,” he grumbles.
Stepping out of my panties that have fallen around my ankles, I spread my legs. I feel his foot gently tap my inner ankle, and he grunts for me to spread wider.
He gathers my hair and slides it over one shoulder, his lips touching the opposite neck. One of his hands glides up to cup my breast while the other slips between my thighs.
I let out a shaky breath when he slips two fingers inside of me. I turn my head and let my lips graze the underside of his jaw, which causes him to groan. The hand at my chest dips inside of the V-neck of my dress and beneath my bra to cup my bare breast, squeezing me roughly, causing my hips to buck. I feel the sensation down to my belly, and I whimper.
“Do you want me inside of you, Devvy?” he whispers against my neck before he nips me with his teeth.
“Fei,” I sigh as my hips involuntarily roll in search for more friction.
Betrothed to the Badman (Russian Bratva Book 8) Page 5
