Expose' (Born Bratva Book 3)

by Steele, Suzanne

  I turn back toward Glazov to respectfully wait for my cue to leave, but first I summon the courage to speak freely. “Dad, I ask you to consider this.” I close my eyes in frustration at having a rapt audience for my next words. “I do believe she is my soul mate. I’m asking you not to hurt her. But if it comes to that, I would ask to know…before it happens.”

  He pins me with those icy blue eyes and bites out in clipped tones, “Then control your woman. It’s the only thing that will ensure that I don’t do it for you.” He waves his hand dismissively before he goes back to the paperwork on his desk and that’s my cue to leave.

  I nod at Roksana and Novak and turn to go, knowing better than to slam the door behind me. But my nerves are coiled like a spring as I consider the variables that are in play here. Glazov will do whatever it takes to protect his family and ensure the Bratva legacy is preserved. If Logan has done anything to interfere with my father’s plans, she’s already as good as dead.

  Logan

  All it takes is one look at Kodiak’s grim expression to know that the meeting was about me. I’ve come to know the look on his face as a sure sign that something serious is going on, which around this family is pretty much all the time.

  “What is it?” I ask cautiously as I finish folding a sweater and slide it into one of the many drawers he has cleared out for me in his enormous closet. I cross the room, which takes more than just a few steps because it really is big enough to serve as a guest bedroom, and sit down on a Victorian bench.

  This room is an organizational masterpiece. Everything is laid out perfectly. Drawers with ties arranged by colors, a big, masculine dresser to hold his designer underwear, socks, and t-shirts. A glass case with an impressive array of Rolex watches sits on top of the dresser. The man even has his clothing separated by color and style. That doesn’t even factor in his dizzying collection of cufflinks and tie bars. His athletic shoe collection would be the envy of any self-respecting rapper.

  I do think it’s sweet that he has sectioned off a whole wall for me. Needless to say, I don’t come close to filling it up. His voice pulls me from my admiration of his OCD issues as he kneels down in front of me. He takes my face in his hands and looks at me intently as he speaks.

  “Baby. Listen to me. My father is…concerned…that you’re going to reveal information about our family, about Bratva. He is prepared to kill you if he finds that you have betrayed us.”

  “Well, don’t hold back, Kodiak.”

  “This is too serious for me to sugar coat it. I’m going to tell you straight up, you’re mine now, in every way. You know more of my story now than most people do. I’m not a man who begs, Logan—but I am fucking begging you here, if you’re talking to anyone or have plans to, stop! You’re putting your life in danger needlessly. You don’t understand the forces at work here, but I do! Not even I could save you from my father.”

  This man, a cold blooded killer, is the same man whose words are bringing tears to my eyes. I wish I could find some other way to finance the rest of my education without entering that writing competition. It’s not like I’m going to expose details about crimes or send people to prison. Maybe I’m naïve, but I just want to write about life in Bratva. I don’t think that would make me an informant, but I guess it really doesn’t matter what I think. Ultimately, the only opinion that counts is…Glazov’s. Of course Kodiak doesn’t know the source of my inner turmoil, how could he?

  I reach out to gently push a strand of inky black hair back from his forehead. He rests his head in my lap, basking in the comfort of my fingers as they gently push through the silky strands over and over again. We savor this moment out of time, alone together in the stillness of this room, far removed from the intrigue and suspicion that pervades this frenetic household. I commit this moment to memory, the simple pleasure of being in one another’s presence, before I finally speak.

  “I have no intention of hurting you or your family. I swear to you I won’t.” He lifts his head and looks into my eyes, as if he’s measuring the truth of my words. I cradle his jaw, stroke his neatly trimmed five o-clock shadow, and touch my forehead to his as I whisper, “I know what it feels like to be abandoned. I know what it feels like to suffer heartbreak. I will spend every moment for as long as you’ll let me, making sure you never feel either of those things again. Kodiak, I swear to you, I will not bring betrayal to your door. I don’t know what kind of woman you’re accustomed to being around—but I’m not that girl.”

  Kodiak

  Bratva has taught me that words can be false and that truth can be twisted into lies. But it has also taught me to read the intentions of others, and I can see that something is different with Logan. The honesty she’s giving me isn’t contrived; she’s too innocent for that. I still want to know the secret she’s been keeping, but I’ve had enough of the heart to heart thing for now. I’ve never spoken of the fire with anyone, not since Glazov took me aside a week later to tell me that he had avenged my father. I never asked him for details and we haven’t mentioned it since. Even though I didn’t go into detail with Logan, I feel like I’ve been stripped bare and it’s a little unsettling.

  So I’m not going to think about it – hell, I’m done with thinking because, I swear, her words rip through me like a thunderbolt and shoot straight to my cock. I need this woman; I’m addicted, and she’s the drug I crave.

  I jump to my feet and spin her around so that she’s standing with her back toward me. Her little gasp of surprise and only spurs me on. I pull her to me as I sweep her hair aside and lightly bite along the length of her neck until I hit that sweet spot she likes so much. I smile against her skin when she moans helplessly. I press my lips to her ear and instruct her hoarsely, “Put your hands on the end of that bench and don’t you dare move them. No matter what happens, do not move those hands.” Her only response is to nod her head and the motion sends all that long, dark hair falling down her back like silk -- so fucking beautiful.

  I reach around and unfasten her jeans, shoving them down her legs and kicking her feet apart. My cock is hard as bone as I rub it up and down her slit. Male pride surges through me because she’s drenched as my dick glides along her skin, and I grin and tell her so.

  “You’re my dirty girl, aren’t you? Underneath all that innocence is a fucking vixen—my vixen.” I grab her hair, twisting it around my fist and pulling her head back because I’m gonna talk to her while I fuck her senseless. “Spread that pussy open for me so I can get up in there and mark my territory.” I tug harder on her hair when she hesitates and I know her fingers are trembling as she obeys me. I groan at her sweet submission to my will and push my cock in nice and deep, not stopping until I’m buried to the hilt.

  “I’m taking you now, so you better hang on to that bench. This is when I fuck you like I hate you, Logan. You’re fucking mine. Every inch of this beautiful body is mine,” I groan as I move inside her and squeeze those sweet little tits that drive me wilder than I ever thought possible. I have been with a lot of women – a lot of women -- and most of them had way more than a handful going on – but this girl…this girl has the most succulent little breasts I have ever seen. Perky, perfectly round…I can’t get enough of them.

  I cross my arms over her chest and pull her in tight against me, then anchor my hands on her shoulders as my hips piston relentlessly into her wet heat. I set a punishing rhythm that has her making the hottest little sounds and moaning sweet words that don’t make a damn bit of sense but make it clear this is so much more than just fucking for her. That’s good because I want her as addicted to this shit as I am.

  I’m not usually much of a talker when I’m fucking, but, yeah, I can’t keep my mouth shut when I’m wrapped up tight inside her. “Ah, shit!” I gasp and press my face into her hair. “Fuck me but you’re tight, Logan. This sweet, sweet, fresh pussy belongs to me.”

  Her breathing is already labored but my baby goes wild when I trail my fingers down her smooth stomach and start to strok
e her clit. She throws her head back against my shoulder and all that hair spills over her back and mine as she wails about how good I feel. Well, I’ve got news for her. “You haven’t felt anything until you come with my cock buried in you. Shit… That’s it, baby, fucking push back on me. Take every inch.” I stop thrusting and hold her hips so I can lean back to watch her sliding up and down my rod from root to tip.

  “I’m watching that sweet little pussy of yours, Logan, and it’s a beautiful view. There’s nothing to be embarrassed or ashamed of. This is just you and me, baby,” I croon as I rub my hand up and down her back, like I’m gentling a skittish colt. But I can’t stay still for long, the urge to move in and out of her liquid heat is too much. There’s nothing gentle about the frantic pace of the fucking I’m giving her. I worry briefly about this being too much, too soon, with her being a virgin up until last night. But she makes it clear that I’m worrying for nothing.

  “You’re so deep it hurts, Kodiak, but, God, it feels so good. You’re so good. I don’t – I don’t understand what’s happening to me,” she wails as her pussy starts to clamp down on me like a fist. The way everything is so new to her is such a turn on. I’m the only man who’s ever had her – and the only one who ever will -- and I’m the one teaching her about sex. I take that honor seriously. She. Is. Mine. No one else is going to be getting off from what she learns from me. I’ll make sure of that

  The primal sense of ownership that courses through me has me biting down on her shoulder to mark her. And damned if my dick doesn’t swell when she gasps in pleasure at the pain. The marks I’ve left on her skin are incredibly satisfying to see and I lick a tiny drop of blood from the wound before I speak.

  “You were a virgin until last night, until I pushed inside you and took it all for myself. Move like I know you want to. Take what you want, girl.” I take her hand and guide her fingers over her clit, my hand gripping hers insistently when she tries to pull away. “Touch yourself for me,” I order as I start to work my hips again. I can see her getting wetter with every word that comes out of my mouth. I pull her back hard by her hair and whisper in her ear, “Mmmm, look who gets a wet pussy when I talk dirty. Now work my cock with all that cream.”

  My fingers are digging into her hips as her thrusts on my cock become frantic. “That’s it, baby, stroke your clit while you fuck your man.” Oh yeah, Little Miss Innocent is turned on. I love this shit; I feel her pussy throbbing on my cock and I know I’m never going to last. Her whole body goes rigid as she cries out, gushing all over my cock. My head starts to buzz as lights burst behind my eyes and I roar as I pour everything I have deep inside her.

  We collapse on the bench in a tangle of slick skin, gasping for air. I roll onto the floor and she giggles as I pull her down with me. She’s boneless and I chuckle as I drape her body over mine. She’s sighing -- purring, really -- like a woman who’s been fucked hard and loved it. I press the side of her face to my chest and kiss the top of her head, stroking her hair as I scowl up at the ceiling. I’m in big fucking trouble here. I’ve never experienced anything like this before in my life and I have no idea how to deal with it. For the first time in my crazy, fucked up life, I’m not in control. And that’s not good.

  Chapter Sixteen

  Kodiak

  I venture out of my bedroom and through the maze of hallways to the darkened dungeon. At the bottom of the steps, I take a moment to take in my surroundings. This room is much more than a place to harbor a fugitive, it’s also a playroom of sorts. My father has a bent toward kink and it shows in this area of the mansion that holds all his toys. I do my best not to think too much about what he does down here on a regular basis since my mother is the only person he would ever bring down here to play. I shudder and shake my head to clear that thought from my mind.

  A large throne-like chair sits in a corner of the room, complete with arm and leg restraints. There’s a Saint Andrews cross, and a section of the wall where a person can be subdued by the manacles protruding from it. My loins stir at the thought of having my Logan strapped against that wall and at my mercy. All in good time. A leather chair hangs from the ceiling for the purpose of torturing a victim with edging—bringing them to the point of release only to stop and start over again. It’s a form of control for those of us who crave it as a way of regulating the crazy unpredictable society we’ve set up for ourselves.

  I stroll over to my favorite part of this room—the cell. I like the idea of holding a woman captive and having my way with her until she sees things my way—only bars separating us as I taunt her with the fact that she won’t be released until I deem so. I lay back on the cot, smoking and listening for the sound of my father’s hard-soled shoes. He insisted I meet him down here and I must say I’m intrigued with why he’s chosen this as his meeting place. I hear him making his way down the steps and I lean down, crushing the cigarette in the ashtray on the concrete flooring.

  “I suppose you’re wondering why I asked you to meet me down here.”

  “Yes, sir, what’s up?”

  “What’s up,” he says with a smirk, “is the fact that your girlfriend has entered a contest to write an expose’, and I’ll give you three guesses what she’s chosen to write about in this little expose’ of hers.”

  I allow my eyes to study the man standing before me in an authoritative stance. His arms are crossed over his broad chest and his feet are spread apart. Even the black suit he’s wearing with the black and white striped shirt beneath it speak of a man who is accustomed to doing business. My father is a man who is used to making life and death decisions in the spur of a moment.

  When he sees I’m not giving him an answer he continues speaking. “Your girlfriend is doing her paper on our sect of Bratva.”

  “The hell she is,” I hiss, furious if what he says is true. He is rarely wrong in these things, and I trust his instincts more than I do my own.

  He continues as if I haven’t spoken, “I don’t think I need to explain to you how detrimental this would be. Her curiosity and the fact that she’s rather naïve could pose problems for us. I certainly don’t want to kill the only woman I’ve seen you take an interest in, but I will. Not only would she be revealing what I consider to be classified information to the community, but to law enforcement and the media as well. I don’t think your girlfriend understands how important it is that she keep her mouth shut. I have decided that it is time she learns.” At that, I scowl as I try to anticipate what he has in mind.

  “It’s time for her to get a lesson in how very seriously Bratva takes its privacy. It’s all about respect. Discretion.”

  “I’ll take care of this shit, Dad. There will be no expose’.”

  We look up when we hear the sound of a woman’s heels making their way down the wooden steps.

  “What are you doing down here?” Logan asks me, smiling. It’s my father who answers and when he does the fear is evident in her eyes.

  “Have a seat next to my son, and I’ll gladly tell you why we’re down here. There are some things we need to go over. If you’re going to be associated with this family in any way, there are certain rules you must accept without question and follow meticulously. I’m not in the habit of letting just anyone into my inner circle. The fact that my son is so taken with you has given you a privilege other women wouldn’t get – a warning. You will find that I’m not big on warnings, Logan, so I hope you will take this seriously. You would be wise to never mistake my kindness for weakness. I will stop at nothing to protect my family’s Bratva legacy. Do we understand one another?”

  I can almost smell the fear radiating off of Logan. I know this little run-in with my father is just what she needs to understand her boundaries. There won’t be any more problems with her. My father has that effect on people—making them see things his way.

  Chapter Seventeen

  Logan

  Nothing could have prepared me for a run-in with Glazov. To say he’s intimidating is an understatement. I can hear bl
ood pounding in my ears because my heart is beating so rapidly. The look on his face is one of resolve—killing me, would be no problem. The only thing saving me is his love for his son. His voice cuts through my fear, forcing me back to the present.

  “I’ve obtained very troubling news about you, Logan. What do you have to say for yourself?”

  Fuck, fuck, fuck, he knows. Not only does he know, he’s going to make me admit it. I know lying to him will only make things worse. I need to build a bond of trust with this man who holds Kodiak’s and my future in his hands.

  “Sir, I’m certain you’re referring to the expose’. I truly don’t think you need to be concerned. I would never want to betray your family, I would only be writing a human interest story.”

  “Human interest,” he responds flatly.

  “Well, yes,” I say hesitantly.

  Glazov gives Kodiak a knowing look and mutters, “Naiveté and curiosity. A deadly combination. I see she’s not yet moved into the pool house as you expected. Allow me to assist you.” He returns his attention to me, asking sardonically, “We both know what they say about curiosity don’t we, Logan?” There is no need for him to elaborate; I know exactly what he’s referring to. Curiosity killed the cat.

  His look is downright malevolent. He never moves his unblinking stare from me as he addresses his son. “Come, Kodiak.”

  When I move to leave with them, my heart seizes when Glazov slowly shakes his head—no words are needed to convey his message. His chiseled expression says it all. I’m in a lot of trouble right now. His final words when he finally does speak confirm my worst fears and I slowly sit down on the metal cot and fold my hands looking down at my lap. I cringe as I hear the metal clang shut and a key turn in the lock, confirming I won’t be leaving with them.

  “Your friend needs some time to think about her circumstances and ponder her future. So she will be a guest of Bratva, here in this room, until I am convinced I can trust her. You may consider yourself under house arrest until further notice, Miss Ludwick – or until you abandon plans for this article and acquiesce to my son’s desire that you reside here. Under my son’s direct supervision, of course.”