I wait.
I think.
Will Radimir want to begin to train our child for the Bratva at a young age, too?
Will he turn my innocent baby into a monster?
I wonder these things as I wait until it is time to check the test. These are all questions I shouldn’t be concerned with until it is time, but I can’t help but wonder what exactly my children’s futures will be.
Ivan kept me in the dark as much as he could about the life he led. My naivety was what kept me sane. Had I known what my father truly was as a young girl, I don’t think that I would be as normal as I am. I would have a messed up view of the world. As it is, he forced me into a box, forced me to be the perfect printsessa for whatever man of his choosing.
My cell phone’s timer goes off, and I look down at the white stick.
Positive.
I can’t breathe.
Positive.
An hour ago, I wanted this result. Now that I know what the future holds for my baby, I’m not sure this is what I want anymore. How can I bring a child into this world of ours? This world that we live in is cruel and unyielding. How can I consciously bring more life into it, innocent life?
I sink down to my knees as my stomach empties at the thought of my innocent child donning a black suit and coming home with blood splatters all over it, burning it next to his father--a bonding ritual of sorts. I shake my head. I cannot let this happen. I also cannot stop it.
MY LAST MESSAGE FROM Kirill was code, yet still cryptic.
Translated: Police following – child – woman – no contact.
What did it mean? I wasn’t sure.
The police were following him; there were involvements with a child and a woman; and I was not to contact him for three weeks. I understood the concept, but I didn’t understand what exactly he was telling me.
“I am so sick of these Mexican fucks trying to come in on our territory,” I grind out after thrusting my phone into my pocket.
“Tell me about it, brother,” Maxim murmurs as he leans against the wall, watching me pace in front of another captured, tied up, useless Cartel piece of shit.
“This isn’t even our job,” I grunt.
“No fuckin’ shit. But we all have to come together during times like these,” Maxim mutters. I nod in agreement.
I take my knife and cut one of the man’s fingers off at the base. He screams like the cunt he is, and I calmly wait for him to finish.
“What are you doing in my territory?” I ask.
“Fuck you,” he spits out.
I sigh before chopping another finger off. Doesn’t he realize I could go on like this all night? Taking pieces of his body away? It is of no consequence to me that he is losing them.
“I’ll ask again. What are you doing in my territory?” I ask after removing all five fingers from one hand. The man is sweating and shaking.
“You’re weak, Russian fucks,” he sneers.
It makes the hair on the back of my neck stand up. This was a worry from our meeting. We will not lose our territories to the mother fuckers.
“Weak? Maxim, you hear this cunt? I am weak now?” I ask. Maxim nods once, his eyes narrowed on the man.
I take my knife and carve this man’s skin from his chest. He screams bloody fucking murder, and he actually pisses himself.
Weak as fuck.
“Care to enlighten me on anything else?” I ask as he pants and whimpers.
“You will be sorry. The Cartel will kill all of you Russian bastards. Your shipments are down on guns and powder. You’re weakening,” he growls.
I take my knife and slit his throat. I call a few guys to clean the piece of shit up and turn to Maxim as I wipe the blood from my knife.
“Funny how I’m not feeling very weak at the moment, friend,” I say with a shrug. He chuckles.
“We knew this was coming. We need to attack them before they attack us, and they’re prepping,” Maxim advises. I nod.
“Tomorrow we meet. Get the men. I want everyone in the west districts to meet. If they can’t fly down here, then I want them on skype,” I command. Maxim nods. Fucking technology makes this shit so much easier.
It is past two in the morning when I am finally able to come home. I worked here at the house on my real estate business before I had to make an appearance in the office, then I worked Bratva business the rest of the night.
I am beyond exhausted, and tomorrow I have a big meeting. Then, the next day is money collections. Thursday nights, every fucking week, end up being a long night of drinking and partying with my men. I try to keep morale up. Acting in Kirill’s stead is draining me, though. I’m fucking beat.
I quietly slip into the bathroom and discard my clothing. No blood on my suit tonight. I’m getting better about staying clean. It has been so long since I have actually done the dirty work myself, I have forgotten all of the little tricks to keeping my clothes blood free. I’ve lost a small fortune in suits lately. Frankly, I’m tired of it.
Once my body is clean, I walk over to my bed. Emiliya is lying with her black hair fanned out behind her, curled to her side. I can see the sheet has slipped down her back, showing me that she followed directions, like my good Blyad, and is completely naked. I slide beneath the sheet and wrap my arm around her, my hand stroking the warm, soft, skin of her bare stomach before it slips down to cup her center.
“Radimir,” she moans as her eyelashes flutter open.
“Spread your legs,” I order. She does so beautifully, submitting to me. I run my fingers through her damp pussy as my lips touch the side of her neck.
“Please,” she begs.
The softness in her sleepy voice has me hard as a rock. I slide one of my arms behind her knee and open her even more before I glide my cock inside of her wet core.
“Perfect,” I groan once I am seated completely inside of her. My other hand rests against her belly, and before I can move it to her clit, she holds it there with her own hand.
“I love you, Radimir,” she murmurs. I fuck her slowly, softly, lazily – the way I think she needs it right now.
“I love you,” I whisper into her ear, grinning when she shivers.
“I’m pregnant,” she whimpers.
I should stop, I should roll her over and slide inside of her as I stare into her eyes, but something snaps inside of me instead.
I don’t say a word as I roll her body onto her stomach and I take her from behind. She’s pinned to the mattress, the length of her body being pushed into the soft bedding as I fuck her pussy. It isn’t making love, I’m fucking her.
I’m thrusting into her pussy at a punishing speed and force. It is as if an animal has taken over, instinct only. My brain and control are lost. I wrap my hand in her hair and snap her neck back as I dig my other fingers into her shoulder, fucking her body without abandon.
“Say it again,” I command. Her head is twisted around and her wide eyes watch me.
“I’m pregnant, Radimir,” she moans.
“Fuck, yes,” I growl. I feel her pussy flutter and then clamp down on my cock.
Squeezing me.
Owning me.
Seducing me.
Fuck, yes.
He has said nothing else since he fucked me like a rogue animal and came deep inside of me. It has been twenty minutes and he is still inside of me, his body pressing heavily against mine, and his mouth kissing my shoulder.
Fuck, yes.
“Radimir,” I murmur. He pulls out of me with a sigh and rolls over to his back.
“You’re pregnant, really pregnant?” he asks as he turns his head to look at me. I haven’t moved from my stomach, my legs still spread, but now my head is turned to him.
“I am,” I admit. He nods.
“Our child is going to be beautiful and perfect,” he murmurs as he rolls to his side. His finger trails the new tattoo on my side.
Chernovolosyy Koroleva.
We had our matching tattoos done the day after Radimir sugges
ted it.
“If it is a boy, you will train him as Bratva, then? Take him from me?” I ask with a trembling voice. I must know.
“Kotik, what is this? Where did you get this idea from?” he asks, furrowing his brow with confusion.
“I heard what you said to Maksimilyan, today; that soon he would go with you and Maxim and learn the business,” I say.
“Kotik,” he sighs before gathering me in his arms and pulling me to his chest. “Never, ever, would I take our son from you. He will not know the Bratva as a man knows the Bratva until he is indeed a man. He will know the men I work with, he will learn respect, he will learn the ways of the Bratva, how to be strong and fair. He will know how to handle guns, but he will never know what he is not ready to know. I will not turn a boy into a man until it is time. I am sure he will always be your baby, as well—never too hard not to show love for his Ma. Same goes for Maksimilyan,” he says, running his fingers through my mussed up hair.
“You won’t train him to be a solider?” I ask nervously.
“I am not Ivan, my kotik,” he states simply. I let out a breath.
“I did not think you were,” I admit. He squeezes my body tighter to his.
“I know this, but you worried for your unborn son. This means you already love this baby, no?” he asks, shaking me a bit. I look up to him with a small smile.
“Yes, I do Rad, so much,” I confess. His lips brush mine.
“You make me so happy, Emiliya. Bringing my child into the world, standing beside me as my wife, giving me the family I have never had. I could not ask for a better lover and wife,” he shrugs with a smile tugging on his mouth.
“What did I do to deserve a man such as you?” I ask, running my fingers over his stubbled jaw.
“It is I who does not deserve you. I am not a good, law abiding man. You know this, and you accept this. I love you for this. I love you because you are sweet and soft. I love you because you are here for me when I have had a shit day; but I also love you because you are mine. You were always meant to be mine, and you will always be mine.”
Tears fall from my eyes and down my cheeks at my husband’s words. A man who comes home wearing another’s blood is looking at me like I am the most beautiful and gentle creature on this planet. A man who could have anyone he wanted, he is that handsome, is looking at me as though I am the most gorgeous woman on earth.
This man made me his wife out of duty, but loves me and confides in me because he trusts me.
He is beautiful.
I do not deserve him, and yet, here we are.
Building a life with each other.
Forever.
Eight Months Later
IT IS TIME.
The first contraction started hours ago, but my water has just broken. Now – it is time.
I cannot get ahold of Radimir, so I call the next best person.
Anton.
He’s been my personal guard since the beginning, and he never leaves my side if Radimir isn’t around.
“Emiliya,” he mumbles into the phone. I know he is probably just down stairs, but I can’t make it.
“I need your help,” I cry out, louder than I intended. A contraction hits me and it’s unbearable.
I hear his heavy footsteps coming up the stairs of the house, and then they stop. I look up and he’s paused, completely frozen and staring at me in horror.
“I can’t get ahold of Radimir. I need to go to the hospital,” I grind out through the pain.
Suddenly, he unfreezes and picks me up into his massive arms. Luckily, I changed and am no longer completely wet from my water breaking.
Anton doesn’t say a word as he puts me into the car; but as soon as he is behind the wheel, he drives like a bat out of hell, dialing Radimir’s phone.
“I am busy,” Radimir screams though the cars speakers.
“Emiliya is in labor. Come to the hospital,” Anton instructs, his tone deep but submissive just the same. Radimir is his boss, and he always shows him the utmost respect.
“Now?” he asks. I can’t handle it.
“Yes, Radimir, right fucking NOW,” I scream. I hear him gasp.
“Hang tight, kotik. I’m on my way,” he murmurs before Anton ends the call.
“The only person I know who can put the boss in his place,” Anton mutters. I look over to him as a contraction hits.
“He did this to me. He gets all the wrath and fury thrown his way,” I grind out. Anton throws his head back in laughter as we pull up to the hospital.
Without another word, he disappears through the emergency room doors and comes back with a wheelchair and a nurse. They help me into the chair and I am wheeled to labor and delivery.
The time has come.
The time for my baby to come into this world.
Time.
It is time.
I rush to my car, forgetting about the four cartel members tied up, and ignoring the fact that we need information on their bosses, ASAP. Ziven can handle them. He must. Next week is the beginning of war, and we are going to surprise those fucks from all angles. North to south, and east to west. It is going to be glorious.
But tonight, my focus is only on my wife.
My wife who is about to bring my child into the world.
I make it to the hospital in record time. Thirty minutes. It felt like an eternity, and I cursed Los Angeles traffic about a hundred times between the warehouse and the hospital, but I made it. I run to the maternity floor and find a couple of nurses chatting at the front desk.
“Emiliya Zaleskya,” I rattle off. They both look at me like I am insane.
“I’m here to see Emiliya Zaleskya,” I say again. One of them looks down at the computer, pressing a few buttons before she narrows her eyes at me.
“Who are you, exactly?”
“Her husband,” I say harshly. Fuck this bitch.
“There’s a man in with her, sorry,” she begins to say. I wrap my hand in her scrub.
“He’s her friend, but I am her husband,” I grind out, my nose almost rubbing against hers.
“Radimir.” Anton’s voice breaks through and I turn to him.
“This way. It’s time,” he says, his eyes urgent. I drop the bitch and I run, following after him.
The room he takes me into has a doctor and a nurse. Anton doesn’t follow me in, and wisely so. Emiliya’s legs are spread wide open, and the doctor’s face is inches away from her pussy. I growl, but then I hear my kotik’s voice.
“You made it,” she says. Her voice is laced with pain, and I run to her side.
“Okay, on this next contraction, I want you to bear down and push,” the doctor instructs.
I take Emiliya’s foot, like I was told to do in our Lamaze classes, while the nurse takes the other, winking and me and smiling.
“It hurts,” Emiliya mutters.
I then watch as she shudders and presses her chin to her chest, pushing as her pale face turns red, her hand squeezing the life out of mine.
“She needs dope,” I practically cry as she fractures my entire hand—or, at least, it feels like it.
“It’s too late. Wouldn’t do any good,” the nurse murmurs with a wince.
“It’s never too late, give her something,” I demand. She shakes her head.
“I see the head, Emiliya. You are doing great. Push again,” the doctor says. The nurse glances at me and tips her chin to my wife’s crotch.
“Watch your baby come into this world, Mr. Zalesky,” she instructs.
I don’t know why I listen to her, but I do.
It’s completely disgusting.
But then, as I watch the little baby slide from my wife’s body and into the waiting hands of the doctor, I understand the pure fucking beauty of the process.
“A boy!” the doctor calls out. Soon, the room is filled with the screams of my newborn son.
A son.
A boy.
A piece of me and a piece of my sweet Emiliya rolled into one bundle.<
br />
The doctor places my baby on my Emiliya’s chest, and I rush over to her side and press my lips to her temple as she cries.
We both stare at our son for a beat before the nurse takes the baby and I am instructed to cut the umbilical cord. The next few moments are a blur as the baby is weighed and tested. Then, as the rest of the world melts away, it is time for me to take my son to his mother to bond.
Emiliya is sitting up in the bed, her hair a bit mussed, but the rest of her looking oddly refreshed and fucking perfect. I sit down next to her on the bed and hold the baby out for her to hold. I don’t want to let him go, my beautiful syn—my son.
The nurse explains how Emiliya can begin to try and breast feed, and I watch in amazement as my son roots for her breast. It is beautiful. Once the nurse leaves, my eyes well with tears.
I touch his soft black hair and look from him to Emiliya. I cannot hold in my deep feelings and emotions. I never thought I would have this family. I never thought that I wanted it. I am nothing but a whore turned criminal boss in the Bratva. I do not deserve this happiness, but I am going to hold on with both hands as tightly as I can.
“His is perfect,” I murmur as tears fall from my eyes.
“Like his father,” Emiliya whispers as her own tears are shed.
“You have a name?”
“Radoslav, we’ll call him Rad,” she suggests. My chest grows tight.
“After me, in a way like Haleigh named Maksimilyan?”
“Similar, but I looked up the meaning of Radoslav. It means happy, just as Radimir means happy. The same meaning. Too perfect not to use, no?” she asks. My heart grows a little more.
“Radoslav Zalesky,” I murmur, looking down at him. “Rad.”
Fucking perfect.
My wife.
My son.
My life.
I am seduced, once again, by this woman.
Every day she seduces me. She makes me better. She makes me want so much more than I ever dreamed possible. She makes me happy. I can live up to my name’s meaning. Happiness and Peace. I will make Radoslav happy as well. Never will he fear life. Never will he know the pains I have suffered. Never will he suffer.
Seducing the Badman (Russian Bratva #2) Page 24
