Living for the Badman (Russian Bratva Book 4)

by Hayley Faiman

  My breath hitches at his words, and my entire body trembles beneath him. It’s been six months since I’ve been hurt. Six months since a man has made me come, bruised me, or touched me in anyway. I miss it and I crave it all at the same time. It’s the only way I know how to find my pleasure, through pain. It is how I was trained to be.

  I whimper.

  “You still love him, so I can’t touch you yet. I have to show you that you can stand on your own two feet before I tear you down to your knees.”

  I don’t respond to his words, afraid of what I may say; afraid that I’ll beg and plead for him to hurt me, to use me, and to fuck me until I can’t remember any other man’s touch but his. It’s how Yakov erased the memory of Gregori’s touch, and then how he erased the other men as well. I close my eyes as I think about those men. I don’t deserve the dominance that Mika is offering to me. I’m dirty, and unworthy.

  “No,” I whisper.

  “No?” he asks.

  “I don’t want that,” I lie.

  Mika doesn’t respond. He arches his brow and slides back on his knees as he grasps my hands and pulls me up to a sitting position. He doesn’t say a word, he watches me. Then he shakes his head with a grin tipping his lips.

  “You don’t know what you want. But that’s okay, you’ll enjoy it just the same.” He smiles and then he pulls me the rest of the way up as he stands.

  I don’t have the chance to respond to his words because he’s pulling me toward the ocean. We spend the rest of the day playing on the beach, abandoning our serious conversation and just enjoying the day.

  Mika brought a cooler full of snacks and drinks. We’ve no reason to go elsewhere, and when we get hot, we take a rest under the shade of the umbrella.

  We stay out and watch the sunset. Mika wraps his arms and legs around me as I lean against his chest. He doesn’t try to kiss me or touch me, he just holds me close while being careful and gentle—something I haven’t ever experienced before in my life.

  I adore it.

  After the sun sinks down into the ocean, Mika and I clean up our beach campsite. He takes my hand in his and together we walk back to our apartment complex. I’ve never had so much fun doing nothing in my entire life. Running around on the beach and in the water with Mika at my side, like a kid—I’ve never done that before, and I love it.

  “Thank you for today,” I whisper as we walk up to my door.

  “It was fun, yeah?” he asks with a grin.

  “A lot of fun,” I say.

  “I have to work tomorrow night, so I have to sleep all day and rest. But I’d like to take you out on Wednesday night, to dinner,” he murmurs as his hand cups the back of my neck.

  “I have to work Thursday morning,” I say.

  “Yeah, we’ll make it an early night. I just can’t wait until Friday to take you back out again,” he grins.

  “Okay, Wednesday,” I nod.

  “Fuck, you’re so fucking beautiful,” he murmurs before his lips touch mine.

  The kiss is sweet, and then his tongue snakes out and tastes my lips. He breaks away before I can open my mouth and let him inside of me. Mika rests his forehead on mine and he exhales.

  “Wednesday seems like a lifetime away, Ashley,” he whispers.

  “It does,” I agree.

  “Sleep safe, mishka.”

  He releases me and I watch as he walks to his own apartment door. He turns and looks at me, dropping his chin down to my door. I unlock it and open it, before I step inside and close the door behind me, securing the deadbolt before I sigh.

  Mika is someone that I never saw coming. I still miss and want Yakov, but Mika is working his way inside of me. There’s something about him that just makes him incredibly easy to open up to. He’s kind and gentle, but he’s not weak, not weak at all.

  I want to tell him everything, and I want him to tell me that it’s all okay. I want him to hold me in his big, strong arms, and to tell me that everything is going to be okay.

  I want him to make this love and yearning for Yakov to go away.

  I want him to heal me.

  My email notification pings and I exhale deeply when I see who has sent me a new message—with attachments. I close my eyes for a brief moment before I click the message to open it. I don’t bother reading the words that my contact has typed. I’m too fucking anxious to see the attached photographs. I click on one, opening it so that it takes up my entire computer screen.

  It’s Ashley. Her long blonde hair is down, and she’s wearing a ridiculous floppy hat on her head. She’s outside, on the beach, and she’s in a swimsuit. It’s appropriate, yet still sexy as sin. She could wear a garbage bag and still look sexy.

  I pause on the picture, taking in her face. She’s smiling, widely. My blood boils, and it’s like a fucking inferno of rage. She’s smiling, but it’s aimed at the man she was seen out with the evening before. His arm is around her back, and his hand is gripping the outside of her hip.

  They look comfortable, too comfortable; and as I look at each picture, it becomes painfully clear that this is no fleeting thing. When I see the last picture, it’s of him, on top of her, his hips between her legs, and his body pressed against hers.

  I pick up my phone and call my contact.

  “I see you’ve received my message,” he mutters.

  “I want you on her twenty-four seven,” I growl.

  “Are you sure?” he asks.

  “I want to know all of her comings and goings. I want to know every single fucking detail,” I grunt before I end the call.

  I tell myself I need to know these things because I want to ensure that she’s living and she’s happy. I lie to myself. I’m not the slightest bit convincing, either. The truth is, I’m downright fucking jealous. She’s mine. She’s been mine for two years, and no man is supposed to even look at her, let alone touch her. It pisses me off.

  Yet, isn’t this exactly what I wanted?

  Kirill tried to warn me. He tried to tell me to come and get her or he’d contract her marriage. I thought he was bluffing, or in the least, I thought that I had time.

  Time has run out.

  Now I’m banned from entering the state while another man tries to take what’s mine.

  I won’t stand for it.

  I won’t have it.

  I am Yakov Chekov.

  I won’t fucking let some piece of shit Boyevik take my fucking woman.

  MONDAY MORNING COMES, AND with it, Ziven’s knowing grin when I slide inside of the waiting car. Sunday I spent alone in my apartment, resting from the Saturday that I spent out in the sun with Mika. I did laundry and read, preferring a book over television, as I usually do.

  Reading was something that Yakov enjoyed during his time off. We would laze around, reading, then fucking, then reading until we ate and fucked and then finally slept.

  I miss those days with him the most. Those simplistic, lazy days where the outside world didn’t intrude. When it couldn’t touch us. When he wouldn’t let it touch us.

  “How was your weekend, then?” Ziven asks, interrupting my thoughts of Yakov.

  “Good,” I murmur, turning to look out of the window.

  “Just good?” he asks.

  It’s obvious he’s smiling and I’m just waiting for him to tease me.

  “Mika took me out to dinner on Friday night, and then Saturday we went to the beach,” I mutter to the window, but loud enough for him to hear me.

  “If I didn’t know him, I’d want to interview him myself. But I know him, and I know he’s a good man, so I won’t be too much of a dick,” he chuckles.

  I roll my eyes at the window before I turn to him.

  “Does Kirill want to get rid of me?” I blurt out.

  I don’t know why I’ve decided to ask, but it’s been weighing on my mind and I want to know. Is this thing with Mika his way of getting rid of me, pawning me off on somebody else? I don’t want to be a burden to anyone, especially not him. He’s been so kind and sup
portive the past six months. I would hate to wear out my welcome.

  “Never, not at all. He wants you to be happy; he wants you to have all the things you deserve. Mika’s always had an eye on you, he’s a good Boyevik, and both Kirill and I can attest to his character. He’ll treat you well,” he murmurs.

  “I still want him.”

  “I know you do, but I also know that he isn’t coming back to you, Ashley. So you may love him, but you need to love yourself more. You need to try and get over that selfish ass,” he grumbles.

  “I know he’s selfish. He’s a great many things, but he was mine,” I whisper as we pull into our building’s parking garage.

  Ziven parks the car and then turns to me. The humor that is usually in his eyes has fled, and he’s staring at me—almost staring through me. It’s unnerving.

  “He was never yours, Ashley. You were his. Owned by him, used by him, and abused by him.” I open my mouth to speak, to defend Yakov, but Ziven holds up his hand. “He didn’t abuse you like Gregori did, but he did abuse you. Yakov abused your trust, your submission, and your devotion when he turned his back on you and walked away the way he did. It is bullshit. If I see him again, I’ll beat the fucking shit out of him for it, too. Mark my words.”

  Ziven opens the door and steps out of the car before giving me a chance to respond. I follow hurrying to his side, wrapping my fingers around his wrist to halt him. When he does finally stop, he looks down on me, and his face is red with anger.

  “Thank you for caring about me the way that you do,” I whisper as I look up into his exasperated eyes.

  I watch as they soften and then his arm wraps around my shoulders before he pulls me into his chest. His lips skim the top of my hair.

  “I don’t have a sister, but I imagine if I did, I would want her to be treated with the dignity, respect, and love that I wish for you to be treated with. Yakov would have to prove to me that he deserves you to ever garner my approval. Today, if I saw him, I’d beat the shit out of him,” he grunts.

  “Today, if I saw him, I would cheer you on,” I say, grinning up at him.

  Ziven throws back his head in laughter and then slides his hand down my back and guides me into our building. He’s still chuckling when we practically run over Mika, who is in the lobby.

  “What’s happening here?” Mika asks, looking down at where Ziven’s hand rests on my lower back.

  “Nothing,” I whisper, looking down at my feet.

  “Mika,” Ziven warns as he takes a step away from my side and drops his hand from my back.

  I’m practically shaking in fear; I’ve done something unforgivable—punishable to the full extent. I’ve let another man touch me without permission, and in public.

  Mika lifts his hand and I pinch my eyes closed tightly, expecting him to hit me. Instead, he gently cups my cheek. I open my eyes and arch my neck back so that I can look him in the eyes. I expect to see anger swimming in them, but rather, they’re soft and sweet looking.

  “Jealously is not an emotion I’m used to. I know you and Ziven are friends, and you’re close. I shouldn’t have become angry,” he murmurs as his thumb drags across my bottom lip.

  “I shouldn’t have allowed him to touch me,” I whisper.

  “You’re not a slave, Ashley. A friend may touch you and a valet may help you out of the car. You are a free woman,” he rumbles.

  “I’ll never be free,” I whisper as my lip trembles against his thumb.

  “Let me help you,” he murmurs as he bends slightly, his lips brushing my forehead.

  “I don’t know what I want,” I exhale.

  “That’s okay. You don’t have to know yet. But let me be the man who helps you discover what it is that you want,” he mutters as his lips slide to my cheek and then press against my neck.

  “Okay,” I exhale.

  “Now, let me take my mishka up to her office so that she can start her day,” he whispers against my skin. It sends a chill throughout my entire body.

  I don’t say anything else as he wraps his hand around my hip and guides me toward the elevator. I’m too entranced by him to even notice Lola, the receptionist, and her snotty glare that is aimed in my direction, as per the usual.

  “How was your workday, yesterday?” I ask.

  “Just got off. It was good,” he grunts.

  “You worked all night?”

  “I told you I was going to,” he says, furrowing his brow.

  “Yes, but I didn’t realize that meant all night—all night,” I mumble. “Aren’t you exhausted?”

  “Are you worried about me, mishka?” he chuckles.

  “You’ve got to be dead on your feet,” I point out.

  Mika’s hand squeezes my hip as his lips stay in a smile.

  “I’ll survive, Ashley.”

  Nothing else is said as the elevator car opens and Mika guides me out and toward my desk. He stops and turns me to face him as his other hand wraps around my other hip. I press my hands against his chest and look up into his blue eyes. He’s so intent and focused directly on me. It’s nerve-wracking and exciting all at the same time.

  “Have a great day at work. I’ll come by around six to pick you up,” he announces.

  “You’re taking me home?” I ask with confusion.

  “I’m going to bring you to work and take you home every time I’m able. I want more with you, Ashley. I want it all, actually. Most importantly, I want you to get comfortable with me and being around me so that we can continue to move forward,” he murmurs as he continues to focus on me.

  “Forward,” I whisper.

  I’m not surprised. Ziven and Kirill have both told me that Mika wishes to begin a relationship with me, plus Mika himself has made it abundantly clear. Yet, I’m still a little surprised that a man like him would want somebody like me, somebody so—dirty.

  “Forward,” he confirms before his head bends and his lips brush mine gently.

  Mika straightens and then strides away from me. I watch every move of his big, long body, as he goes to the elevator and presses the button. When the car opens, he steps inside and turns around to face me with a smile tugging on his lips.

  “I’ll see you at six, mishka,” he announces as the car doors close in front of him.

  “I’m in way over my head,” I mutter to myself.

  I shake myself out of my daze and walk over to my desk before I sit down and stow my purse. Then, as if robotically, I turn on my computer and wait for it to power on.

  I open my email and minimize the screen before my finger hovers over the photo icon. I shouldn’t do it, not after I’ve just had that conversation with Mika. Nonetheless, as if it’s a compulsion, I tap it anyway, and Yakov fills my screen.

  I stare at his face; his lips and his smile, his black hair and his light blue eyes. I miss them. I miss him, every single piece of him. Mika seems kind, and I like that he wants me to make my own decisions and have my freedoms, but that doesn’t take away my longing or my love for Yakov.

  “This isn’t healthy,” Kirill says from behind me. My back straightens as I quickly exit out of the program.

  “I know,” I whisper as I turn around to face him.

  “Mika is…”

  “Yes, I know; Mika is a good man. He’s been very kind to me and he’s been very clear that he wishes for us to be together.”

  “But?” Kirill asks arching a brow.

  “Yakov. Always Yakov,” I whisper.

  “You must…”

  “Let him go; yes, you’ve told me. Ziven’s told me, Mika’s told me, everybody has told me. I’m sorry that my heart won’t listen. I really wish that it would.”

  “Calm down, Ashley,” he mutters as his eyes widen.

  I’ve never spoken above a whisper to Kirill, and I’ve never, ever shown anger or irritation anywhere near him. I’ve never shown those emotions to anybody, not really.

  “I can’t. Everybody wants me to just forget him. How do I do that? Please, explain it to me, be
cause I would if I could. I would erase him from my memory if I could. I would erase him from my heart,” I plead.

  “Do you really feel this way? Not dramatically, and not because you were his slave, but because you truly feel this way?” he asks, furrowing his brow.

  “If I were just his slave and nothing more, if I felt nothing else for him but that, wouldn’t I be able to move on with my life after six months of freedom?” I ask.

  “Fuck,” he curses.

  “I’m trying. I swear to you that I am. I’m sorry that I’m such a mess and such a burden,” I say as my shoulders begin to shake and I begin to sob.

  “Nyet, you are not a burden,” he coos as he wraps his hand around my shoulders.

  “How do I make the ache go away?” I beg.

  “I don’t know,” he whispers. “If I knew, I would have done it for all those years that I didn’t have my Tati.”

  “I just want to be happy,” I whisper.

  “I know you do.”

  I pull myself together and wipe my eyes before promising Kirill that I am okay, and that I can work for the rest of the day. I can’t fall apart anymore. I need to move on, and Mika is offering me the time and support to do that.

  I need to take him up on his offer, no matter how badly I only want Yakov. It doesn’t matter anymore how much I ache for him. He doesn’t feel the same; and though logically I can tell myself to move on, to get over him and just live the new life that I have been awarded, I don’t think I can actually do it.

  Inside of my chest, the place where my heart beats, it doesn’t listen to my head. Not in the slightest.

  I sit in the airplane on Monday morning, waiting for it to taxi and then take off. I’ve waited six months, and my desire for Ashley has not lessened. Not only does the fact that I’ve kept her pictures prove that, but also the feelings of enraged jealousy at seeing her wrapped in another man’s arms.

  I don’t know how I could have ever walked away from her. I also don’t know how I’m going to be able to keep her. Being without her isn’t an option, but keeping her forever isn’t either. I don’t know what I’m going to do or say once I cross over the California border, but right now, I can’t stop myself from going. Something inside of me calls to her, to be close to her.