Deadly (Born Bratva Book 5)

by Suzanne Steele

  “I’m starved,” I say eagerly as my tummy rumbles.

  “Come, then, let me give you the tour,” Dmitriy offers smoothly, shooting me a searingly hot look as he presses his hand to the small of my back and guides me across the room to where the feast awaits.

  As we stroll among the heavily laden tables, he whispers in my ear, his warm breath making me shiver. “You see, Anastasia, I value both my Latino and Russian heritage, but tonight? Ah, tonight is all about Mother Russia. We Russians love fish so here we have Lemon and Shallot sautéed fish, and pan fried butterflied trout. Over here, Sushki tied in a string; roasted duck with apples; belorusian potato and cheese soufflé babka. Now this,” he says with barely contained enthusiasm, “ is Sirniki -- farmer’s cheese pancakes.”

  He takes me by the shoulders and turns me to him, saying quite solemnly, “You mustn’t ever leave me alone with the Sirniki, darling. I’ll devour them, every…delicious…morsel.” This last is said as a slow, sexy smile spreads across his face. I exhale slowly, my lips forming a perfect ‘o’ that attracts his attention and momentarily halts our progress.

  With an amused shake of his head, Dmitriy continues my tour. He describes every decadent dessert in mouthwatering detail that borders on erotic -- my body certainly thinks so, anyway.

  As he guides me solicitously through the gauntlet of tables, he pauses without warning so I look up to see what has caught his attention. Oleg and Roksana are observing our progress from where they stand near the head table. Dmitriy acknowledges them both with a slight tilt of his chin. Oleg stares back at him steadily, narrowing his eyes slightly as they communicate silently. To my surprise, Roksana raises her glass in salute and, judging by her cheeky grin, resounding approval.

  In full view of the crowd, Dmitriy turns me to face him and, with a hand on the back of my neck, presses his lips to mine in a searing kiss that steals my breath. He wraps his arms around me and pulls me close against him so that there’s not an inch of space between us. When he finally ends the kiss, he smiles down at me…right before he cups the curve of my ass in a blatant show of possession for the benefit of every other man in the room.

  “What’s next, Dmitriy? Are you going to drag me by my hair into your cave?”

  “Amante, I thought you’d never ask.”

  Chapter Sixty

  Roksana

  I love my parents’ parties. There’s always an atmosphere of family, even with all the networking and political schmoozing that come with it. The Bratva people here love each other and it’s a time to be happy and celebrate how far we’ve come. It’s also one of the few times I feel a semblance of safety. Here in the grand ballroom that is my father’s pride and joy, we’re on hallowed ground, a place where no outsider would dare to threaten the Pakhan or his interests.

  “Earth to Roksana,” Oleg murmurs in my ear. “Where have you drifted off to, devotchka?”

  I turn and look at the man who not only holds my heart but the promise of a lifetime together. He looks good tonight. No…he looks better than good. Instead of the traditional air of civility that you would expect a tuxedo to convey, Oleg’s custom-fit tux gives him a dangerous look that only enhances the raw, primitive charisma that is unique to him.

  He pulls me to him and whispers in my ear, “Tonight your father announces our wedding plans. You ready for that?”

  His expression is one of confidence. Though I’d never even think about backing out, we both know we’ve come too far to even consider it. To not get married would be to go against the Pakhan’s decree, which would be…frowned upon, to put it mildly. Luckily, we both like the idea, a lot.

  It occurs to me that my father didn’t really explain the purpose of tonight’s event, just that it was a special night for celebrating. So how does Oleg know? So not cool if my father is letting him in on information I don’t know.

  “How do you know what he’s announcing tonight?” I ask, cutting my eyes at him suspiciously.

  “Calm down. He didn’t leave you out. I’m going on gut instinct. Your father is thinking about the future. Even he knows he’s not going to live forever—someone has to take this thing over someday.”

  “I don’t like talking about it.”

  “That’s exactly why I didn’t bring it up. On another note,” he says wickedly, “how about we start working on babies right away?”

  I roll my eyes. “You and your one-track mind.”

  Anastasia

  The sound of silverware tapping against crystal rings through the air. The Pakhan wants everyone’s attention. The mood has been light up until this point and I hope it stays that way.

  He calls his children and their soon-to-be spouses to join him. To my surprise, he includes Dmitriy and me as well.

  “Due to the efforts and sacrifices of many of the people in this room, we have been successful in obtaining the necessary infrastructure and distribution channels for our diamond venture. The way has been cleared and I have no doubt that diamond days lie ahead.

  “It is time to focus on family during this time of peace. Now, it is every father’s wish that his children find happiness, and,” he adds with a smirk, “every mother’s dream to plan their weddings.” He pauses to let the laughter die down. “Tonight, I formally announce the engagements of my three children: Nikita, Kodiak and my Roksana.”

  Thunderous applause ensues until he raises his hand for silence. “We have been blessed to secure the Tereschenko diamond. Blue diamonds are exceedingly rare and this one has quite a history. In modern times, it is topped in size only by the Hope diamond. But in its original, uncut form, it dwarfed other stones at 150 carats. When it came into the possession of its original owner, Mikhail Tereschenko, in Russia in the 1600’s, it was cut down to 67.2 carats. More recently, Cartier cut it down to a mere 42.9 carats,” he says with a small smile, again pausing for laughter to subside.

  His eyes alight on his wife toward the back of the room where she has been making her rounds, seeing to her guests’ every need. With their eyes locked on each other, he continues. His voice demands the attention of everyone in the room but his words are intended for her alone.

  “With each cut, more of the gem’s true beauty is revealed. Each brilliant facet is a source of pleasure…every nuance of its form is a joy to possess and explore.” After a brief pause, he continues, “Since the stone has come into my possession, it has once again been cut down. The Tereschenko Diamond is no more.” Gasps can be heard throughout the room, and he seems to enjoy the moment of high drama.

  “The diamond’s return to Russian hands is a good omen. As such, it is only right that I share its blessings with my children. They and their spouses will wear weddings rings of blue diamonds as a reminder of their Bratva legacy.” Again his eyes seek out his wife. “But the heart of the diamond belongs to my wife, Kathleen. Ptichka, come to me,” he says, his words taking on a husky rasp.

  I haven’t met Mrs. Glazov yet so I’m curious to see for myself this beauty who is rumored to have bewitched the Pakhan many years ago. The crowd parts as if making way for royalty. Glazov straightens as she moves through the crowd with an elegance only a Bratva wife could possess, her long auburn hair artfully arranged in loose waves that cascade down her back. Those who manage to drag their gaze away from her unmatched beauty cannot help but notice her husband’s pride and barely restrained sexual heat.

  Yafon stands slightly behind the Pakhan, holding a silver tray draped in black silk. At Glazov’s signal, he removes the drape with a flourish and proffers the tray to Glazov with a small bow. Nestled in a bed of white velvet are an array of rings fashioned from blue diamonds. The light from the ballroom’s massive crystal chandeliers causes the diamonds to dance and twinkle, producing a mosaic of iridescent blue prisms along the walls.

  In the middle of the glittering array of rings is an enormous, heart-shaped, blue diamond pendant. He gently turns her to face the sea of guests and fastens the necklace around her neck. The stone’s facets glimmer against he
r ivory skin and the blue velvet of her gown.

  He removes her rings from the fourth finger of her left hand, sliding her wedding band onto his pinky finger and dropping her diamond ring into the pocket of his tuxedo jacket. At her concerned frown, he leans in and whispers words that cause her to blush. Her eyes sparkle up at him as he straightens, holding her hand between both of his. He slides a diamond encrusted wedding band onto her finger, followed by a sizeable, glittering blue diamond solitaire. As she assumes the classic hand-extended pose of a woman admiring a new ring, he holds up a man’s wedding band between his thumb and forefinger. Kathleen goes to slide his original ring off, but he slowly shakes his head. With misty eyes, she simply slides the new wedding band onto his finger so that it comes to rest in front of the original.

  I have heard all about the chemistry between the Pakhan and his wife, but the steady eye contact between these two is breathtaking as he raises her hand to his lips. The primal, sensual heat that lights his gaze causes a low murmur among the crowd as he places a lingering kiss over her rings. She clearly catches him off guard as she returns the gesture and presses her lips to his wedding band. Only those of us closest to the couple catch the unmistakable, low growl that rumbles from deep in his chest.

  With his wife by his side, he calls Nikita, Kodiak and Oleg forward and presents them with their wedding bands and the wedding sets for their fiancées. Each man, in turn, presents his fiancée with her blue diamond engagement ring. By the time sweet words are whispered and ring fingers are kissed, there’s not a dry eye in the room.

  When Glazov prepares to present Dmitriy with a ring of his own, I think nothing of it. After all, Dmitriy has a long history with the family. But I can’t suppress a gasp when the Pakhan places what appears to be a wedding band in Dmitriy’s outstretched palm, covers it with his own and says, “Soon.”

  Glazov then turns to me with an arched brow, clearly expecting me to hold out my hand. He slides the ring onto my right hand, ignoring my slack-jawed expression. “Your right hand…for now,” he says with a probing look at Dmitriy, who has the nerve to wink at me.

  Addressing the gathering, he declares, “Anastasia has taken a great leap of faith to join us and start her Bratva life. I think it only right that she shares in the spoils.”

  “I’m humbled and honored…my Pakhan.”

  He looks between Dmitriy and me with a slow, approving nod. “Always remember your first love and highest purpose is Bratva—before all else.”

  I have no way of knowing that I will have to draw on that promise sooner than I could have ever expected. Like a declaration of loyalty and faithfulness to a lover, I cling to what is now my truth: I am born Bratva.

  Look for Diamond Days (Born Bratva Book 6) coming soon. Read further for a short introduction.

  Introduction to Diamond Days

  Glazov

  I’ve spent my life in anticipation of this day: the wedding of my three children. Any father faces the prospect of walking his daughter down the aisle with a mixture of pride and trepidation; however, most fathers don’t make the trip three times in the same ceremony. But I did.

  I could have delegated two of those trips to others since Natasha and Logan are not my offspring. Someone even suggested I walk all three brides down the aisle at once. My wife quickly nixed that idea, insisting that every bride deserves her moment. The irony was not lost on me; my Ptichka had an unconventional entrée into her Bratva life all those years ago, and a walk down the aisle was not part of it. I never gave it much thought, but today my mind lingers on the sacrifices my Ptichka made for Bratva -- and for me – all those years ago.

  Logan has no close family ties outside of her Bratva family, and Natasha became one of my own the night her father was murdered. Roksana is protective of the women in our family, much like her mother, so she had no objection to sharing her father with her new ‘sisters’. So three brides, three trips down the aisle. It has been a busy day.

  The wedding reception is being held in the grand ballroom I reserve for special celebrations. Kathleen has it decorated in a white winter theme with touches of what I call ‘Tereschenko Blue’. Family, friends, and a select few business associates are gathered to celebrate this next stage of our lives. Today signifies the passing of the torch to the next generation. It is up to them now to uphold our Bratva traditions and create new ones of their own. It is as it should be, and I am ready.

  The diamond import business will be the key to this next chapter in our lives. I am not naïve; I still have enemies. Rivals I’ve crossed throughout the years will come looking for retribution, or perhaps they will make the mistake of thinking I am weak. Despite the blood on my hands, my conscience remains clear. I’ve lived the life that was chosen for me before my birth. I’ve honored the legacy of my ancestors.

  But times are changing. The streets are riddled with gangs that have no sense of loyalty or respect, who murder and maim for the sport of it. I want no part of it and will, instead, take pleasure in watching them destroy each other.

  The diamond trade has its own dangers, so I’ve laid the groundwork to ensure my family’s safety—no blood diamonds, no theft, no forgery. Most importantly, we will deal exclusively in diamonds from Russian mines. Our workers will have the best equipment and safe conditions in which to work.

  Only time will tell what the future will bring. It’s a new day, a new horizon, a new vision. If all goes according to plan, my wife will no longer lose sleep worrying about my safety. I intend to be around to enjoy my children’s children; all the more reason for them to start their families and give me grandchildren sooner rather than later. In this, as in all things, I am not a patient man.

  I pull my wife closer to me so she is tucked into my side—the woman I forced to marry me. I’m not quite sure what I expected our marriage to be, but it has proven to be more fulfilling than I could have ever imagined.

  “We’ve done well,” she murmurs.

  “Yes, it is a good day. You have created a spectacular celebration for our family.”

  “Thank you, but that’s not what I mean. Our children, they do us proud, today and every day.”

  “Yes. And now I’m ready for a new chapter. We need new blood to carry on the Glazov name.”

  “I can’t believe you’re already thinking about grandchildren and it’s only their wedding night. Give them some time, Glazov.”

  Her laughter rings through the air but my mood is pensive. “Time is a commodity I don’t have.”

  “Stop saying that, you know how I worry. Not today of all days. You’re always so serious. Just enjoy the moment, Glazov.”

  “You still call me Glazov after all these years, not Alexander. Why is this?”

  “Because Glazov is who you are. The Pakhan who inspires great love and great fear in equal measure.”

  “So you’ll always see me as a gangster. I suppose I can’t expect any different,” I say, keeping my tone neutral.

  “You’re my gangster,” she says as she rests her hand on my cheek.

  “Do you fear me?”

  “Would you have it any other way?” she teases, snuggling in closer to me. “I love you, Glazov, and every sinister moment of my life with you.”

  “And I love you, Ptichka.”

  We savor the moment as our children take to the dance floor for their first dance as married couples. They surprise us by joining hands in a circle and performing a traditional Russian folk dance as a group, prompting heartfelt applause from onlookers, especially the old-timers in the crowd. It is a beautiful sight, how our children honor their legacy.

  Everything about this day is exceptional, a perfect celebration of new beginnings. Until the gunshots ring out…

 

 

 
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