Reaching for my favorite pair of Tom’s black wedge booties, I decide that they’ll match my outfit enough. My feet are ugly and not just a little ugly, they’re downright terrifying from dancing, so I have no choice but to keep them covered in public.
It doesn’t take me long to finish getting ready after I’ve put on my clothes. My hair I keep straight and long down my back. It brushes right below my bra strap, and I can’t help but smile. I love being able to wear it down.
I make my face a little more dramatic, specifically my eyes, with dark black eyeliner and even a little black eyeshadow. I brush my lips with a light pink shiny gloss before I grab my purse and start to turn all my lights off.
The front door opens as I take my first step into the living room. I suck in a surprised breath. Then I exhale at the sight of Konstantin standing in my doorway. “You shouldn’t just let yourself in, I could have been naked,” I snap as I continue toward him.
“I was halfway hoping you were,” he smirks.
“Whatever,” I mumble as I close the distance between us.
I expect him to take a step back, or at the least, to the side but he doesn’t. He’s standing stock still, blocking my entire door.
I tip my head back to look into his eyes, and I’m taken aback by the obvious apparent anger in his gaze, and his clenched jaw. “That’s what you’re wearing?” he barks.
Nodding, I don’t say anything and just wait. “You’re going to get someone killed tonight, sladkaya,” he murmurs.
“How?” I ask in a whisper.
He grins as he lowers his head and runs his nose alongside mine before he moves so that his lips are against my ear. “If any man comes near you, they’re as good as dead. And you look downright fuckable tonight.”
I sway slightly at his words, they affect me that much. He doesn’t see me though. He straightens, then turns and walks out of my doorway. I follow behind him, locking the door behind me. He doesn’t go far, slipping his palm against my lower back as we begin to walk toward the stairs. I wonder why he doesn’t use the elevator, ever.
I don’t ask, I’m too busy trying not to fall flat on my face as we descend the staircase.
“What do you want to eat?” Konstantin asks once we’ve reached the bottom. I expect to continue out the front of the building, but he turns us in the opposite direction.
“It doesn’t matter, I can order a salad anywhere,” I murmur.
Konstantin stops dead in his tracks and turns to face me, his eyes almost a murderous glare. “A salad?” he hisses.
“A salad,” I say with a nod.
He shakes his head once. “You eat a salad and I’ll whip you right there in the restaurant. No way in fuck do you need a goddamn salad,” he growls.
I almost snort at his reaction. “Hate to break it to you Konny, but I’m fat compared to all the other dancers. I will never get a main part at this point because I’m too big to be lifted. I was already told I needed to be on a diet and that if I couldn’t take proper care of myself, she would send me to a dietician. So, big guy, I need a fucking salad,” I state.
Unfortunately, I wasn’t paying attention to the look on his face. I didn’t see that with every word his murderous gaze actually became even more so. “Who in the fuck told you, that you were fat?” he shouts.
“It doesn’t matter,” I sigh as I attempt to take another step forward.
Konstantin doesn’t let me go, he wraps his hand around my bicep and turns me around to face him, tugging me so close to him that my breasts touch his chest. I try not to let his closeness affect me, but it does, good God does it.
He tips his chin slightly before he growls. “I’ll kill the fucking cunt, whoever she is. She’s dead.”
I lift my hand without even thinking, and place it on his scruffy cheek. “Baby, I’m a dancer. My weight is really important,” I whisper.
“Fuck. That.” He growls. I can feel his clenched jaw beneath my palm. “You’re the most beautiful woman I have ever seen, and your body, fuck me, it’s phenomenal,” he whispers.
I suck in a breath before I can speak. “Thank you,” is all that comes out.
“When you’re with me, I’m feeding you. I don’t give a fuck,” he grunts.
Then, as if the spell is broken, he takes a step back and places his hand on my lower back again before he guides me toward the back door of the building. When it opens, I’m surprised to see that it’s a parking garage.
We walk together until Konstantin stops at a sexy sleek black car. I watch as he opens the door for me and waits for me to get inside, only closing it after I’m settled in the passenger seat.
I watch him as he jogs around the car before he folds into the driver’s side. The engine roars to life a few minutes later, and then he backs out of the stall, and we’re off to a dinner destination that is unknown to me.
I watch her eat. It’s sexy as fuck. I don’t know if it’s a man thing, watching her fuel her body with the food I’ve provided, or if she really just is sexy as she enjoys her food. It’s obviously not something she does often, enjoys food that is. Her words from earlier play on a loop inside of my head. How anybody could even suggest that she is anything but perfect, I have no fucking clue. I will however, torture any of her instructors that try to force her on a diet of any kind.
“Where are we meeting your prick friend?” I ask.
Kiska chokes on her water as her eyes twinkle when they catch mine. “Cielo, it’s in the meatpacking district,” she explains.
I snort. “Fuck that, we’re not going there,” I murmur as the waiter sets down my bill.
“That’s where we’re meeting them,” she states firmly.
I take some bills out of my pocket, and throw them on the table, leaving the waiter a decent tip before I stand. Kiska narrows her eyes on me as I hold out my hand for her. When she slips her fingers into my waiting palm, I fight to hide my reaction. I want her, and her touch, fuck, it feels amazing.
“We’re not going inside of that piece of shit club. I’ll take you to a real club,” I grunt as I tug her behind me toward the restaurant’s exit.
She harrumphs but doesn’t reply. She doesn’t know that club isn’t safe for her. That entire district isn’t safe for her. I’ll show her a good time in a place that is more appropriate though, in a Russian club. Her friends are more than welcome to join, even the prick, but I’m not willing to put her in harm’s way.
Once we’re settled into the car, I head toward the meatpacking district. Kiska sits next to me with her arms folded. I suppose she’s trying to convey to me that she’s pissed, but instead she’s giving me a great shot of her tits being pushed out, and I’m not the least bit perturbed by it. I can’t help but imagine what my cock would look like nestled between the two sexy pillows, which causes me to shift uncomfortably in my seat.
Once we’re near the club, I pull up to the front, ignoring the signage that says this is for valet only. I see Peter’s tall blond head and her friend’s petite blonde head standing on the sidewalk. Honking, I roll down Kiska’s window, and she calls out to them. I watch as they both walk our way.
“They’re not letting anybody in tonight, only a few people here and there. We’ll be lucky if we can get in,” Peter grumbles.
“Both of you, get in,” I state.
Peter narrows his eyes on me. “Why would we do that?” he spits.
I roll my own eyes. “Because I’m going to take you to a club where you won’t have to stand in line to get inside,” I announce.
“Let’s go,” the girl squeals as she bounces and reaches for the car door.
They both pile inside, and I take off toward Brighton Beach. After about twenty minutes of silence, Peter pipes up. “Where the fuck are you taking us?”
“Brighton Beach,” I state.
I hear him suck in a breath. He’s probably been told his entire life not to cross over to that area, to stay away from there, especially at night. “You’ll be safe,” I assure.
I don’t say anything. My phone rings a few minutes later. Glancing at my caller ID, I cringe. I answer it and in Russian, I explain that I have a car full of people.
“Who is with you?” Timofei barks.
I explain that I’m taking Kiska and a few of her friends to the Bratva owned club in Brighton Beach. There is a pause after my explanation then Timofei bursts into a fit of laughter. The fuck.
“What do you want?” I growl.
Once he’s calmed down a little bit more, he gets to the fucking point. He explains that another shipment went missing on the rail. It’s been happening infrequently, but frequently enough to cause concern. We always find the shipment, untampered with, but we still have to track it down. Someone is fucking with the train’s computers and we’ve yet to find out who.
I ask him if he knows where it is and he tells me not yet, but when he does find out, he’ll need me to send a crew out to it. I inform him that I can’t leave Kiska and won’t be able to monitor it if she’s not in class. He grunts before curses. “How is your stable?”
“Good, no issues. They all have a steady flow of clients,” I murmur.
“When I find out where the shipment is, I need you there, Kon,” Timofei orders.
I sigh as I rub my hand over my face. “I have a Shestyorka that has been watching Kiska during the day. I’ll have him watch her apartment door if I’m needed at night,” I offer.
“I’ll send a Byki to assist as well. I’m ready for this shit to be dealt with.”
I grunt my agreement before the line goes dead. I glance at Kiska to see that her eyes have sliced over to me and she’s glaring at me. She must know more Russian than I had anticipated, or she heard a few words that she understood and is pissed off for some reason. I can’t help but grin, thinking that she’s jealous of the whores I manage.
“So, you’re really legit Russian?” the girl asks from the backseat.
“Zoe,” Peter hisses.
My eyes shift to him in my rearview mirror, and I notice that he’s white as a ghost. Hopefully he doesn’t understand Russian, or I’ll have to kill him, and even if I would find it highly satisfying, I’m assuming Kiska wouldn’t be too fond of me killing the boy.
“What? I mean I didn’t understand a word of what he said, but I know enough about languages to recognize that he was speaking Russian and not French,” she states.
I clear my throat. “Yeah, I’m Russian, so is Kiska,” I announce as I glance back to Peter. I’m trying to read him, but he still looks completely terrified, which isn’t a good sign.
“You are? Like from Brighton Beach?” Peter asks her.
Kiska turns around. “No, I’m from California. My grandfather lives in Russia still though,” she explains. “Is that a problem?” she asks.
Fuck me she sounds like Kirill, asking him if he has a problem with her background and daring him to have that problem. My cock immediately reacts.
“N-no… I’ve just heard things about Brighton Beach, about the Russians there,” he practically whimpers. I wonder if he’s pissed his pants yet, if he has, he’ll be licking it up from my leather seat.
“All wive’s tales,” I murmur.
We pull into the parking lot, pulling right into a spot I had reserved for me when I found out that Kiska and her friends were going to that shit club in the city. Kiska doesn’t wait for me to help her out of the car. Her arms are crossed, and she looks fucking pissed as shit, and even more beautiful than she does normally. I’ll have to keep that in mind, to piss her off more.
“Kiska,” I hum as I walk up behind her. I place my hand on her stomach and press my lips to her ear.
She sighs. “Just, don’t.”
“You’re angry with me.”
She shakes her head once but doesn’t say anything. Her friends arrive before I can try to coax out her reasoning for being mad even though I already know what it is. I want to hear her say it, and then I’ll tell her exactly what being in charge of a stable is really like. Though, maybe I won’t, I like her jealousy. It’s sexy as hell.
Together the four of us walk toward the club. I can tell Peter’s confidence is fucking shot. They were never going to get into that club, but this one we’ll walk right in and we’ll have VIP tables as well. The Byki at the door recognizes me with a grin. He pushes out his hand for a shake and I comply.
“Hey Skumin, taking your woman out on the town?” he asks as his eyes glance to Kiska.
I smile. “Nyet, taking Kiska Barysheva out on the town. She’s contracted to someone else, but living here in New York for a few years while she dances at the ballet,” I explain, all in Russian. I hear Kiska growl beside me, but I ignore her.
“You’re her Byki?” he asks, arching a brow.
I grunt. “Boss moved me to the city until she’s finished.”
He whistles before he chuckles. “Your VIP table is upstairs waiting. Don’t get into trouble, yeah?”
“Who is here tonight?”
He shrugs before he lists a few of the guys I know. All good men, good soldiers, but all men with eyes and cocks which will assuredly be aimed at Kiska. “See you later, yeah?” I call out as I press my hand to Kiska’s back and guide her past the entrance.
“This place is awesome,” Zoe cries.
I lift my chin toward the staircase and hope that the two of them will stick close to us. I don’t give a flying fuck what Peter and Zoe do, but Kiska is my charge, and she’ll not be out on the dance floor showing off her body for all of the men in this club.
THE FUCKING ASSHOLE. I’M irrationally pissed off. I know I’m being irrational but I don’t care. He’s in charge of whores, he’s a fucking pimp. I know, I mean I totally understand that this is part of what the Bratva does but Konstantin? I didn’t think… I hate it. All I can imagine is him fucking all those women. I want to claw at my own skin I’m so fucking angry not only at him but myself as well.
Why do I even give a shit?
“Drinks are on me tonight,” Konstantin announces once we’re seated in the VIP area. We’re upstairs and we can see everybody sweating and dancing around below us.
“Seriously?” Zoe cries. “But I’m not twenty-one, in fact, none of us are,” she murmurs.
Konstantin grins. “I’ll keep your secret, Zoe. Nobody gets carded as my guest, tonight,” he states.
I feel another wave of irrational outrage when Konstantin practically purrs Zoe’s name, when he smiles at her, and the way he winks. Fuck this, and fuck him, why do I feel this way?
Konstantin lifts his hand and gives it a little wave. “Yes, sir,” the cocktail waitress breathes, her voice husky.
She’s wearing a gold sequin mini skirt and a low-cut, white thin strapped tank top. Her tits are practically spilling out, and when she bends over, I think I even see areola. What a skank.
“My friends are on the house tonight, babe. Whatever they want, yeah?” he says his voice raspy, and I swear to God he sounds like he’s fucking her with his damn voice alone.
“Yes, Mr. Skumin. Whatever you need,” she smiles. I watch as he pulls some cash out of his pocket and literally tucks it into the waistband of her miniscule skirt.
I glance over to Zoe who is completely oblivious as she looks down at the crowd below. Then when my eyes meet Peter’s, I notice that Konstantin’s actions have not been missed. Peter’s face is red and his jaw is set. When he glances at me, I watch him flinch. Fuck, he thinks Konstantin is my boyfriend, and a douche boyfriend at that. God, now he feels sorry for me.
The waitress makes her way over to us and asks us what we’d like. Peter orders a beer, Zoe orders a martini, and I order a shot of vodka. I’m going to need it.
“Let’s dance,” Zoe practically cries out as she stands and starts to wiggle.
I can’t help but smile at her. She’s too excited. Peter glances at me, then Konstantin, then back to me again before he stands. He wraps his hand around Zoe’s and t
ogether they leave. Konstantin doesn’t speak, and I refuse to look at him, but I can feel his gaze on me.
“Get your fucking ass over here,” he growls. I snap my head to look at him and narrow my eyes. Refusing to move or respond. “You don’t stand your sexy ass up and walk over here, you won’t like the consequences,” he growls.
I can tell by the look in his eyes that he is not fucking around. I have no doubt that he would punish me right here, and right now. I stand on shaky legs and walk over to the sofa he’s lounging on. I sit as far away from him as possible. He doesn’t allow that though, he wraps his hand around my waist and pulls me against his side.
“Are you jealous, sladkaya?” he hums against my ear. My body stiffens and I can feel his lips smile against my neck. “You’re taken, Kiska, you shouldn’t care who I converse with.”
My entire body shivers, and he’s right, so very right. I give him a wooden nod in agreement but am unable to speak. His hand around my waist moves to my stomach and my belly dips when his fingers slowly slide into the waistband of my skirt, and moves back and forth. God, I want him to touch me—everywhere.
His lips travel down my neck and to the top of my shoulder before his tongue snakes out and tastes me. I shiver in his arms. I should push him away and run, run so fucking far and fast that it would make both of our heads spin, but I don’t. I stay right where I am and allow him to touch me, to taste me, wishing that he would taste me—everywhere.
“Kon,” I whisper.
He clears his throat and moves his lips back to my ear. The music is so loud he has no other choice but to speak directly into my ear and I love it. “Just have fun tonight, Kiska. You’re contracted, and I’m not a man you want between your thighs, trust me.”
I turn to face him and am surprised to see that there is hurt there in his eyes. I wonder how deep it goes, by the looks of it it’s pretty damn deep and it makes my chest ache. “Konstantin?” I ask as I reach for him. He shakes his head once before he stands.
Chosen by the Badman (Russian Bratva Book 9) Page 4
