Betrothed to the Badman (Russian Bratva Book 8)

by Hayley Faiman

  “Come here,” he demands.

  I stay seated, stubbornly refusing to go to him—that is, until he lifts his brow and narrows his eyes slightly. He repeats himself, except his voice is deeper, more sinister, and my body reacts. Before my brain has even figured out what’s going on, I find myself sitting on this thigh.

  Timofei wraps his hand around the outside of my upper leg while his eyes roam over my face, searching it. I feel vulnerable and far too exposed as he takes me in. When his warm palm cups my cheek, I suck in a breath and hold it, waiting for what he’s about to say.

  “Nothing happened. I was pissed off, and I went over to her place,” he admits as my eyes automatically narrow on his face. His lips tip in a smirk. “It was stupid, I was angry. As soon as her door closed behind me, I knew I had made a mistake. I came right back to you, to where I wanted to be.”

  “I don’t know how to feel,” I whisper as my lips tremble.

  He smiles as he slips his arm under my knees and stands, holding me against his chest. Silently, he walks us into our bedroom and doesn’t let me go until I’m seated on the bed. Then he kneels in front of me, his hands immediately cupping both of my cheeks while his cool blue eyes look directly into mine.

  “I want to be better than my father. I want to be better than your father. I just want to be better, devochka,” he breathes as his lips brush mine. “I want to be faithful to my wife, and I almost wasn’t. For that, I’m sorry.”

  I gasp at his words but am unable to respond as his tongue enters my mouth and he slowly kisses me. Our tongues tangle in a dance that’s slow and sensual, and I can’t help the moan that escapes me as I reach for Timofei’s wrists and try to pull him closer to me.

  Fei groans as one of his hands slides down my neck to the hem of my shirt, fisting the material before he slips his palm beneath it to run his fingertips up my side. Goosebumps follow his fingertips as they break out all over my skin, and I pull my lips from his as I try to suck in a breath.

  “I want you,” I whisper, looking into his eyes.

  His fingers wrap around my nipple and tweak the bud as he grins, “I always want you, devochka.”

  Timofei undresses me. Instead of the hard, fast, heart-pounding sex we usually have, it’s slow and seductive. Timofei’s eyes never once leave mine, and it makes me feel cherished.

  THE MAN SITTING ACROSS from me waits for me to answer him. Though he hasn’t quite posed a question, it’s clear enough in his words and tone. He wants my help in overthrowing his father. He wants to be the head of the Irish mob. Aidan O’Neil wants my help.

  “Why are you bringing this to me?” I ask as I swirl the clear liquid around in my glass.

  We’re at The Oleandr. It’s collection night, but I came in early to meet with Aidan at his request. It’s been two weeks since the family dinner disaster. Devyn and I are doing well, fucking every night; and although the pressure of getting her pregnant is off, I can’t deny that I still want her heavy with my child. I haven’t had a chance to talk to her about the voided contract. She doesn’t seem to be concerned, so she must trust that I’ve got everything handled.

  “I know you won’t go to my father, you did the same with yours, and you’re technically my brother-in-law,” he shrugs.

  “I took over my father’s operation for a good reason, what’s yours?” I ask, leaning back in my chair as I throw back the rest of my vodka.

  “Put aside his obsessive need for control in all things, including his children—and by use of his fist,” he begins. I can’t help the way my fingers tighten and form their own fist at the thought of Patrick abusing Devyn. “The whole thing with Ronan Kelly being some lone wolf trying to take over?”

  “What about it?” I bark, thinking of the man who ordered the hit on my mother. The man who tried to kill Yakov, and who came after Inessa. All of the events of the past few years fly through my mind at his simple mention of the man’s name.

  “It was all my father,” he states. My glass tumbles to the floor as I stare at him in shock.

  “What the fuck?”

  Aidan nods as he lifts his hand to rub the back of his neck. “He’s just as crazy as your old man was, Timofei. He orchestrated the whole fucking thing. The Italians had been riding his ass, trying to take over Staten Island, and he knew they could. He swung Kelly out to dry, dick swinging in the breeze, and didn’t give one fuck. The marriage was his plan for peace, and to have you and your power at his back, along with your resources at his fingertips.”

  “The whores?” I ask.

  “He and a few of his men have been the ones behind abusing them, including one of my brothers, Callum. What a mean little fuck,” he says, shaking his head. “He wants in on the whore business. Apparently drugs and guns aren’t enough. Maybe he figured out what your guys were making on them? I don’t know, but it’s not something we’ve ever done before. Plus, it’s nothing I have any desire to do.

  “I have a wife and four kids. They aren’t safe, and that’s not acceptable. My father is playing with fire, with you and the Bratva, plus the Italians are still looming,” he explains.

  “What kind of deal does he have with them?” I ask, knowing for certain that if the Italians wanted his small section of Staten Island, they could take it without hesitation.

  Letting out a breath, Aidan looks to the ceiling before he looks back at me. “He’s promised them Devyn.”

  The air escapes from my lungs, and I find it difficult to breathe just at his words alone. Devyn is mine. My wife, and there’s no way anybody can take her from me. Aidan must see that I’m completely confused because he clears his throat.

  “The brother of the Boss lost his wife a few weeks ago. I don’t know how, and I don’t think I want to know. My father offered his condolences, trying to stay friendly with them. He asked my father for a meet, then asked about my sister. My father explained that she’d be back in his care, her marriage annulled, in a few weeks. They drew up a contract. The old man liked that she wouldn’t be a virgin; he didn’t want her to be too innocent,” he explains.

  “He thinks I’m just going to give her up?” I ask, trying to keep my temper and rage at bay.

  “She pregnant yet?” he asks, his question far too knowing of the answer than I like.

  “I told him the contract was done, to destroy it.”

  Aidan laughs. Its humorless, but it’s a laugh nonetheless. It pisses me off. “Patrick O’Neil always gets what he wants. His plan is to take her back. When and how, I don’t know—but he’s going to give her to the Italians second in command as a way to bring them in as well. Then he’s going to have whores, a mix of Irish and Italian. His final blow will be to run you out of Staten Island, to take over with the Italians at his back. You know, for as long as they are useful,” he shrugs.

  “And when they aren’t anymore?”

  “The Cartel. Though he’s trying to hold off from joining them for as long as possible, they aren’t as easily swayed by pussy like the Bratva and the Italians. Plus, they’re well known for not abiding by the contracts they sign,” he states.

  “I’ll help.”

  “Yeah?” he asks, looking a little surprised.

  He shouldn’t. Even if I didn’t care for Devyn, I still wouldn’t let that piece of shit take what was mine. I don’t share or play well with others. What’s mine is fucking mine, and that includes my goddamn wife.

  “Yeah. I have a meeting with my top captains in a few hours,” I explain. He nods.

  “A couple of my brothers think the way I do, all except Callum,” he states again. I lift my chin in understanding. “We’ll take care of him. Right now, I want to focus on getting Patrick out.”

  “What happens if I take over your territory and you work for me?” I ask as the idea pops into my head. He jerks his head slightly and I watch as a perplexed look washes over his face.

  “As your Captain?” he asks.

  “You’d have basically free reign, but you’d be under the umbrella of
the Bratva, of me. You’d have to pay tribute to me, but you’d also have my men as support, making the entire island under Bratva rule,” I explain.

  “Let me talk with my other brothers?”

  “Have an answer for me in two hours, that way I can take the idea up in completion with my crew,” I say. He nods. We shake hands, and he promises to call me back within the hour.

  I have no doubt of which way they’ll be leaning. Though their territory probably has a history rich in Irish rule tradition, just as Brighton Beach does with the Bratva, times are changing. If we want to stand as a united front, we need to be united, in more ways than just a simple marriage.

  Patrick thinks that he has me by the balls. He thinks that he can just take what’s mine and I won’t cause issues. He’s dead fucking wrong. Maybe, just maybe, in a few days’ time, he’ll just be plain fucking dead.

  Konstantin scowls in question to me as I instruct him on how to get to Shannon’s house. I ignore him, knowing that my friend is probably worried sick, and a phone call wouldn’t be enough to ease her mind. It’s been two weeks since Fei killed Flynn right in front of her, me, and the whole freaking family.

  “Your husband would not like this, little one,” Konstantin mutters as we pull in front of her apartment building.

  “My husband doesn’t like many things, but you’re here, and you’re protecting me, so I don’t see what the issue is,” I shrug.

  He lets out a breath, and I know he’s going to lecture me when he puts the car in park and turns his head to face me. “The issue is that you’re in Irish territory, without his approval. The issue is that you’re visiting with someone who is not approved by him. The issue is that you’re too fucking innocent.”

  “I don’t even know how to respond to that,” I huff.

  He laughs softly. “I know you don’t. See, too fucking innocent. I’m here to make sure you don’t get yourself killed, and me too. Can we handle that?”

  Rolling my eyes, I nod. He shakes his head as he smiles to himself. I wait until he opens the door for me and stay close to his side as he guides me inside of the building.

  I’ve only been here a few times, although my father didn’t really allow me to visit Shannon here often. She’s one year older than me, and as soon as she graduated high school, her father set her up by herself in this apartment.

  Obviously, her father isn’t as controlling and crazed as mine. He still keeps her on a fairly tight leash, but she isn’t worth as much to the mob as I am. She’s allowed some freedoms until her marriage.

  “What the fuck?” a voice calls out as I look up.

  There, walking out of Shannon’s apartment, is my brother, Callum. What the fuck, indeed.

  “Callum?” I ask, unsure of what else to say.

  “He set you up with a bodyguard, huh?” he smirks, though it sounds sinister. “Won’t help you when it comes time for shit to go down,” he shrugs as he walks away.

  “What was that?” I whisper as I look up to Konstantin.

  “I don’t know, but we’re leaving, now,” he growls as he wraps his hand around my bicep and turns toward the stairwell.

  I go along without protest, because my brother’s words haunt me. I’m not sure what to make of them, but I know enough to understand that they are a threat—a promised threat. Konstantin rushes us to the car and then back home. I hurry into the building, and then up the stairs to the apartment.

  Once we’re locked inside, Konstantin tells me to stay where I am and he walks away with the phone pressed to his ear. I know he must be trying to call Timofei, but I’m not sure if he’ll actually get a hold of him.

  I’ve already come to the understanding that the nights he is working to collect tribute, as he calls it, I can’t contact him, and I don’t expect him home until the wee hours of the morning.

  With nothing better to do, I pace.

  “I need to get down to the Oleandr. I can’t get a hold of him or anybody else. You’ll be fine here. It’s secure,” he explains.

  Konstantin leaves me before I can even take a breath. He instructs me that there is a guard outside my door, and another at the perimeter of the building. However, I’m alone in the apartment.

  I look around and instantly feel a chill. Nothing seems right. Maybe it’s because I know we’ll be moving to our new home in just a couple weeks. Maybe my brother’s words have just imbedded themselves too deeply too quickly inside of me, but everything feels off.

  Making my way to the kitchen, I decide to get a water, hoping the cool liquid will make me feel a little more at ease. Reaching into the fridge, I bring the bottle out and close the door before I turn around. A scream threatens to bubble to the surface, but it doesn’t.

  I’m met with Brenna, but she isn’t looking at me like she usually does. She looks cold, calculating, and I yelp when she lifts her arm and there’s a gun in her hands.

  “Brenna?” I whisper.

  “Shut up,” Callum calls as he walks out from the entryway.

  Shannon is at his side, looking extremely guilty. She mouths, I’m sorry, to me as he pulls her closer toward his side.

  I gag as he slides his hand around Brenna’s hip, too low to be considered brotherly, before he glides it up her stomach and grabs her breast tightly.

  “What the hell?” I ask without being able to control my absolute disgust.

  “No more talking, Devyn. Your time living as a Russian princess is over. Who would have thought that you’d be so fucking valuable?”

  “What do you mean?” I ask, trying to keep them here, hoping that Konstantin or Timofei come waltzing through the front door at any moment. “How did you get in?”

  “That cunny of yours is worth more than we ever dreamed. I seriously don’t understand why,” Brenna says, screwing her nose up as she looks down at my hips.

  “Your Russian has some pissed off men in his midst. They’re easily paid off,” Callum laughs menacingly.

  “We don’t have time to sit around here and talk about her valuables. We have to go before her possessive as fuck husband comes back,” Shannon states. She doesn’t sound like my best friend anymore, and I feel like my head is in a complete fog.

  Callum walks up to me and wraps his hand around the back of my neck as he leans in and whispers in my ear. “You’re going to make the old Italian guy extremely happy, aren’t you, Devyn? Whatever you did to tame the Ruskie, you’ll do for your new owner, won’t you?”

  “Never,” I hiss.

  He snorts. “Yeah, you will, or we’ll put you to work as a whore.”

  Brenna looks up to Callum as her face pales. Shannon has the good sense to at least look a little worried at the thought, but she wipes that worry quickly from her face and smiles. “You promised that wasn’t what was happening here,” Brenna murmurs.

  “Shut your mouth, or you’ll be joining her,” Callum growls before he turns toward me, “Dad has some serious fucking plans for you, Dev. You’re not going to fuck them up, so let’s get moving,” Callum announces.

  He tugs me behind him, and I have no choice but to follow. His grip is too strong and Brenna has the gun pointed at my back. I look around for the guard that is supposed to be at my door, but he’s nowhere to be found. I know that he’s one of the men Callum must have paid off.

  Money—I fucking hate it, every single thing about it. We don’t go onto the elevator. He decides to drag me down the stairs.

  I close my eyes as I stumble behind him, praying that Timofei will be outside when we step out, or at the least that he’ll be able to find me before it’s all too late.

  KONSTANTIN IS BREATHLESS AS he enters the back room of the restaurant, and I look up to him in surprise. He’s frantically searching the room. As soon as his eyes meet mine, he rushes to the table.

  “Devyn’s brother is planning something,” he states as he tries to continue to catch his breath.

  I watch him, wondering what the hell he’s talking about and then wondering why he isn’t with Devyn. I
t’s evening, not early, but not too late either. I’ve just had the men vote on taking over the Irish territory. They were all in favor, willing to assist in taking Patrick O’Neil out and helping Aidan take power; of course, I’ll be the one with true power over the area.

  “Which brother?” I ask curiously. I’ll be talking to him about staying with Devyn in just a minute.

  “Callum. She wanted to see her friend Shannon. After all that shit went down at the party, she was worried,” Konstantin explains, looking guilty. He damn well should. In no way should he have been there with her, not at fucking all.

  I don’t say anything and wait for him to continue. “He was coming out of the friend’s apartment and told her that having me wouldn’t help her when it was time for shit to go down.”

  “Where is she?” I ask as my blood turns to ice in my veins.

  “I made sure she was safe in the apartment before I came here. She has a guard outside her door and one on the perimeter.”

  Standing, I announce that tribute is over. Money has already exchanged hands; the rest of the evening was for partying anyway. The men must notice that something is amiss, and a few ask if I need assistance. I readily take them up on it.

  Two men are not enough security right now. What the fuck is he thinking? He knows that someone should have eyes on her person, at all times, especially when shit is going down. If anything happens to her, I’m holding him personally responsible.

  I have a sick feeling forming in my stomach. That feeling is telling me that whatever Aidan thinks is going to take place in a few weeks between the Italians, the Irish, and Devyn is actually taking place imminently.

  I don’t follow even one of the traffic laws as I make my way toward my apartment. Luckily, I’m not too far. I place a call to Aidan, who curses under his breath at the news, but tells me to keep him informed. He’ll be keeping an eye out and an ear to ground on their side of town.