There weren’t dozens of rooms in the place, more likely around seven, but since there were only a small number of girls, it worked fine. Sometimes, when they got a new girl, she would sleep in the basement where a cot was set up until a permanent place was found.
The man Mikhail, the former boss of the Volkov Bratva had left in charge after demoting Luka—not that he was going to be there long since Mishca was in the midst of getting rid of all those who were loyal to the former Pakhan—was an asshole who enjoyed his position a little too much. Sure, they were whores, and this lot chose this as their profession, but that didn’t give him the right to take advantage of them. Sure they chose this, but working for them was entirely different than just working the streets. While they were afforded security only the Bratva could provide, they also knew that they needed to keep the bosses happy because they were expendable.
Even Luka wasn’t that bad, and he had done some questionable things over the years.
Yuri sat on a sea-green couch, facing a large television that was currently on a football game, and if from the way he was raptly watching each play, it was safe to assume he had money on it.
Luka didn’t bother giving the man a greeting, taking the stairs two at a time to the next landing. A few of the girls passed him by with pleasant smiles. He spoke, always polite, though most of the men who frequented this place were not. It didn’t matter to him what they chose to do for a living. Who was he to judge? He hurt people for a living.
When he reached the last door in the hallway, he didn’t bother knocking, just twisted the knob and walked in.
The other girls might have needed to share a room when they weren’t working, but Natasha was one of the highest earners, and because of this, she was given the privilege of having one of the biggest rooms in the house. Unlike other girls who chose this profession, whether by force or as a means to an end, Natasha had chosen this for the money she made.
Natasha was beautiful, as most of the girls were, but unlike them, she took very good care of herself to the point that if she wanted, she could be more than what she was. Raven black hair fell to the small of her back, complementing smooth pale skin, with a carefully sculpted shape that made her ideal for any man. Her smile was charming and the first time he had ever seen her, he’d been interested.
Like others, however, this was all that had drawn him to her. Back then, he had resorted to long nights with a sand-filled bag to work out his aggression and tire himself out until he passed out from exhaustion. It was only after he’d been called to the Victorian house that he had even met her. One client had gotten a bit too rough with one of the girls and he’d been told to take care of it. Though even now, he still wasn’t sure how it happened, but one minute he was trying to explain the rules to the man, and the next, he had snapped his neck.
No one spoke of that night, though he did wonder how many people knew of what he had done, but Natasha didn’t think anything of what she had seen from the window of her bedroom. In fact, Luka believed that was the only reason she’d come to him.
A single night with her was enough for him to know that she could take anything he gave, even if it might have left her bruised. From then on, he saw her every Tuesday like clockwork.
It worked for them.
They accepted each other. He didn’t treat her like a whore, a tendency that most men in their world treated the girls, and she gave him a reprieve from his frustration.
So long as there were no feelings involved, it worked for him. He was always careful. Always trying to make sure she knew that he didn’t want anything more from her than her body and on the rare occasion, companionship.
“Long day?” she asked sitting back on the bed, stretching her arms out beside her.
He shrugged, not answering. While this was a ritual they went through whenever he visited her, he often wondered if she ever got tired of it.
Tossing his jacket across an empty chair, he lay back on the bed, arms folded behind his head as he stared up at the ceiling, waiting for her to finish whatever it was she was doing. It wasn’t long before he heard the scrape of her chair as it was pushed back, and she stood, crawling onto the bed, climbing over him.
As the adrenaline began to wear off, slowly his thoughts automatically went back to the events of the night, remembering the way the blade had sliced through the man’s skin. Just the memory was enough for him to breathe deeply through his nose and back out through his mouth.
Her hands drifted over his chest, and he shuddered, wishing he could disconnect his sex drive from the pain he inflicted on others.
“How many?”
That was another question she asked, one that would help her gauge exactly how much was pent up inside of him. Tonight, however, he didn’t answer.
It wasn’t bad as it usually was.
Her hands drifted over his shoulders, kneading the muscles along the way, her lips to his ear. As much as he could, he relaxed under her touch, though he didn’t let his guard down completely.
He didn’t trust her enough for that.
For just a few moments, he let his mind wander, thinking of things that were better left forgotten, and a time in his life when moments like these were stolen, knowing that others wanted him ruined, but while he had it—even if it wasn’t with the person he necessarily wanted—he would accept it.
Rolling them, he flipped her onto her back, crawling over her body, pulling at the lacy bra she wore. Natasha was smiling, encouraging him, but as quickly as that registered with him, he turned her over again, bringing her up to her knees.
Even as he spent hours in that bed with her, he still couldn’t work out the tension curled inside of him.
3
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Bad Decisions
Though she had taken to drinking her nights away these past few months, partying in more than half of the clubs in Manhattan, it had been a while since Alex woke up with a hazy memory of the night before and a headache from hell.
Pushing herself up to a sitting position—though it brought with it a fresh level of pain—Alex rubbed at her eyes, trying to clear her blurry vision. Feeling movement to her right, she blinked, squinting, then blinked again, not believing what she was seeing.
A guy was asleep beside her on his stomach, his face turned in the opposite direction from her, but he looked vaguely familiar. If not for her skull feeling like it was splitting open, she might have tried harder to remember who he was. He wasn’t a particularly unwelcome sight, but considering there were two other girls sprawled out at the foot of the bed, she felt like she was going to be sick.
Gingerly, she climbed out of the bed, stumbling her way into the bathroom and grabbing her clutch along the way. Closing and locking the door behind her, she went over to the mirror, resting her hands on the edge of the porcelain sink.
Awful was the only way to describe how she looked.
Her skirt was skewed, top half unbuttoned, her hair in disarray with dark circles around her eyes, not to mention the day-old makeup, and Alex hardly recognized herself. Which was starting to become familiar
Digging for her phone, she tapped a button on the keypad to light up the screen, cursing when she saw the time. She was supposed to be meeting up with Lauren to hang out—her new sister-in-law had a thing for bonding—and if she didn’t show, Lauren would undoubtedly go to Mishca, and she really wasn’t in the mood for all those questions.
Alex was contemplating her next move when her phone rang, a name that made her heart skip a beat when she saw it appear on the screen.
Luka.
Luka Sergeyev.
Her brother’s new right hand, an enforcer in the Volkov Bratva, and the bane of her existence…and some days, when she allowed herself to think of the possibilities, he felt like so much more.
For a while, it had felt like a crush, then it felt like something more, something indescribable, something that Luka seemed to return for a short time, at least until Natasha seemed to become a permanent fix
ture in his life. Some days there was friendship, other days she felt a draw that made it nearly impossible to stay away from him.
Now, she didn’t know what was going on between them.
Though she didn’t want to answer, she felt helpless not to.
…But that was before. Before everything in her life had turned upside down
“Yeah?”
“Yo.” That was his standard greeting to everyone. “Where are you?”
Alex looked around, trying to rack her brain for a response, but she didn’t really remember where she was, but she couldn’t tell him that. She needed to stall. “Is there a reason why you’re asking?”
“Family bonding. I have to pick you and the best friend up. Ready?”
Pressing the phone to her shoulder to muffle any noise she made, Alex grabbed her shoes and clutch, heading back out the bathroom. “I’m perfectly capable of getting there on my own.”
The easygoing quality to his voice was slowly bleeding away. “True, but you can either give me an address or I’ll track your phone. Lady’s choice.”
“Fine, I’ll call you in five minutes.”
She hung up before he could respond, slipping out of the bedroom, heading toward the front where she could see the bar. There were bodies everywhere, in varying stages of undress. To even make it to the door, she had to step over a rather large man who was completely naked, a woman who was less than half his size draped across him.
When she was out on the street, she glanced up at the street sign at the corner, quickly texting Luka an address before he did follow through on his threat.
“Where you going?”
Alex jolted, glancing back over her shoulder to where her former bedmate was jogging after her, tugging his shirt on along the way. Though it was unlikely that Luka would be pulling up anytime soon, she still looked back, checking for any sign of that black Mercedes.
“I have things to do,” she said.
“At least give me your number,” he went on, not bothered in the slightest that she no longer seemed interested. “This doesn’t have to be the only time we see each other.”
That was true, but Alex wasn’t sure if she did want to see him again, especially with her memory still foggy from the night before, but as quickly as that thought had formed, the familiar temptation of doing something wrong filled her…not to mention that whatever he had given her was surprisingly strong.
Not thinking anything of it, she rattled off her number, her fingers tightening around her own phone as it started vibrating in her hand.
“Where are you walking to? I can give you ride back.”
Forcing a smile, Alex shook her head. “No thanks. I have a friend already coming.”
He eventually relented—though he’d hardly put up much of a protest—heading back into his compound, and Alex continued on, hurrying across the street, just as an Army green Jeep Wrangler, mostly covered in mud, screeched to a stop beside her. She had only spared it a glance, not thinking much of it, but did a double-take when she saw who was inside it.
The one person who annoyed her the most in the world.
The one person who could get under her skin without effort.
Luka had long blond hair that curled to just above his shoulders. With a regal nose and lips that were normally turned up into a smile, he had to be the most attractive guy Alex knew. Not to mention the blue eyes that made him look even more innocent.
But for all his attractiveness, there was a darkness that radiated out of him. She might not have believed it had she not known him so well—no one with a face like that should have been capable of the things she knew he could do with a knife—but after seeing him covered in blood—for her, she always reminded herself—casually smoking a cigarette, she knew that beneath the crude humor and out-of-place jokes, there was something not completely right with him.
In one fluid move, he put the gear in park, climbing out and coming around to her side. He always seemed to be moving slow, calculated, as if he was conscious of everything happening around him. His eyes did a sweep over her as he yanked open the door, and from the way his mouth twitched, more of a frown than a smile, he wasn’t happy with what he saw.
“You look like shit.”
Trust him to be brutally honest with her. Luka was brutally honest to a fault, and normally, she liked him that way. Knowing that he rarely hid anything from her was rather nice since most of the men who worked under Mishca kept her in the dark about most things. But now, while she felt like she’d been run over by a car, Alex really wasn’t in the mood for it.
“I didn’t ask for a ride or a lecture,” she mumbled, grabbing hold of the top of his truck to climb in.
If she weren’t suffering from a hangover, she might have commented on his truck. Since he was usually driving Mishca around, she’d never given much thought to the kind of car Luka drove. While most of the men in his position drove sleek sports cars, it seemed almost fitting that Luka would drive something as rugged as a Jeep Wrangler.
She closed her eyes as he started the Jeep, her stomach churning as they started moving. The entire way to her apartment, Alex concentrated on not throwing up what little there was in her stomach. He was quiet, though this wasn’t much of a surprise since he rarely made idle conversation.
With Luka’s driving, they arrived in record time, heading up the elevator in silence. There was really no need for him to follow her up—not that she was complaining—though it might have taken very careful steps.
Digging the keys out of her clutch, she nearly dropped them when Luka’s hand reached out, his fingers brushing over hers when she’d made a grab for them as he took them, opening the door.
He trailed her inside, and while she didn’t want to notice, it was hard not to be aware of his presence behind her. Even when he wasn’t trying to overwhelm her, it was just who he was.
“I need to use your shower.”
Alex didn’t have to point him in the direction of the spare bedroom. He’d been in this apartment more times than she could count. Without looking at her, and shouldering the bookbag he’d gotten out of the back of his Jeep, he left her alone without another word.
Though she didn’t have much time, Alex went into her own room, taking a shower to wash the night away. After taking a couple Advil—not to mention the steam of the hot water—she felt moderately better.
Inside her closet, there were racks and rows of dresses, hung on special silk hangers that she’d found in a specialty boutique. There wasn’t much Alex had that she loved beside the people in her life, but her clothes were one of them. In her travels—and thanks to a rather over-indulgent mother when it came to pretty things, though it had been more about appearance than anything else which took up a wall of its own—she had a varied collection of designer dresses. This, however, had nothing on her shoe collection.
Choosing a powder blue one made of chiffon with darker panels that helped conceal her chest, Alex reached for her favorite pair of nude Louboutin heels. To some, heels were a pain, especially on the streets of New York, but if there was one thing Anya instilled in her, it was the idea that one needed to always look their best.
Dressed, Alex went back into the bathroom, wiping her hand along the mirror to clear away some of the moisture. She didn’t stare for long before starting to apply her makeup.
Now that she looked moderately human, she didn’t fear what she looked like anymore, but it was hard, always seeing the face of someone everyone hated.
By the time she finished—foundation, concealer, blush, and all the works—and was back out in the living room, Luka was just coming out, clad in a pair of black jeans and boots, a t-shirt thrown over his shoulder as he rubbed a towel through his curling hair. She didn’t want to, even mentally advised herself not to do it, but it was almost physically impossible not to drink him in.
He was toned and had the lean trim of a runner, but the majority of this was hidden beneath the colorful tattoos that covered him. Some sign
ificantly represented the Bratva, particularly the snarling tiger head in the very center of his chest. She’d seen others with similar artwork, men who just liked the design, but in the circles they ran in, it was a warning as much as it was a promise.
Her gaze drifted from the tiger to the various images over the ridges of his stomach to the indentations at his waist. He really was very nice to look at…
“Where were you coming from?” he asked as he tossed the towel on the couch and yanked on his shirt.
Before, she might have answered his question with a snarky response, but at the moment, Alex wasn’t in the mood to fight with him. “Nowhere in particular.”
Alex had looked away when she said this and didn’t notice when he crossed to her side and grabbed her arm. Despite the obvious strength he possessed, he was gentle with her. He always had been.
Before he could say anything, she reached for his hand, intending to pull it away, but at the moment of contact, she just left it there. The back of his hand was soft, but his palm and fingers were calloused and she could only imagine from what.
“It was just a party,” she finally confessed though she couldn’t be sure why she was telling him at all.
There was no reason to, not when there wasn’t anything happening between them.
No matter what she felt.
“I don’t want you doing anything reckless,” he said, eyes surprisingly serious. “You have a problem, come to me and we’ll figure that shit out.”
That was what she had always liked about Luka, how easy it was being around him when the tension wasn’t there, when they were just in the same space without the outside world intruding. Times like this, she could be herself without fear of judgment—because he wasn’t trying to change her. She didn’t need to be perfect around him even if she strived to be.
Hidden Monsters (Volkov Bratva Book 4) Page 3
