Artur curses. “Fuck, the little fucking piece of shit,” he growls. “What did you do with him?”
“He’s gone, Artur,” Yakov gently delivers.
The phone is silent, and I wonder what Artur Entin is thinking if he’s going to retaliate, or what is going through his head.
“I should have done it a while ago when I knew he was trying to overthrow me. I shouldn’t have given him special treatment because he was my son. Had it been anybody else I would have put him down myself as a lesson to be learned for the rest of my crew.”
He sighs. “What I shouldn’t have done is dangled a printsessa in front of him, not when I knew the type of man he was.”
“What would you like us to do with his body and the body of Josef?” Yakov asks.
Artur grunts. “Dispose of them however you wish. That piz`da is not my son. You need anything from me, you let me know. You always have my support. It looks as though I have a long road ahead of me—it’s time to clean fucking house,” he grunts before he ends his call.
“Well, that was a turn of events I wasn’t quite prepared for,” Yakov murmurs into the quiet room.
“No shit,” Timofei mutters.
Timofei pulls his phone out of his pocket and calls for a cleanup crew while the rest of us just kind of stare at each other. “What do you want done with Viveka?” Timofei asks after he ends his call.
I think about his words, then I think about Artur and how he wanted his son’s body dealt with. I feel like I’m being cruel by thinking along the same lines as him. Viveka betrayed me like Akim did him, though. She thought she could play me, play me because I cared for her. She thought that she knew what my reactions would be, that I would forever forgive her and see past her callousness. She thought fucking wrong.
“It doesn’t matter,” I whisper. Timofei opens his mouth, but I cut him off. “She betrayed me, and betrayed the Bratva. She knew the consequences for that, and yet she did it anyway.”
Timofei nods before he stands and walks away. “We’re keeping the women in the safe house for a while longer. Just as a precaution,” he announces.
I close my eyes and think about Kiska. I fucking miss her. I know she’s safe, but she would have been just fine here with me, and it pisses me off that her father swooped in to grab her.
I find myself wondering if it’s worth it all, all that fucking red tape or not? Obviously, her father isn’t going to just willingly hand her over to me, he’s got something up his sleeve. But fuck, she’s mine, and I’ll fight for her until the end.
I shake thoughts of Kiska out of my head while I help comb through Viveka’s phone, looking for any sign of what Akim claimed he had planned. I go to her photo app and let out a groan when I see what she has saved. There are pictures over and over, of us. Some are just of me, and I didn’t even know that she took them, in bed, walking around outside, just random photos—what the fuck.
“She loved you, yeah?” Bronislav, asks.
I nod as I continue to slowly thumb through them. “I guess so,” I rasp.
“In the end, maybe she thought what she was doing would bring you to her, would bring you two closer?”
Closing my eyes, I reopen them before I speak again. “Yeah, but she should have known.”
“She should have, sure. But I think she was desperate. She knew you’d fallen in love with Kiska, and she’s even seen how you tried to break things off with her. Viveka knew that there was no way you were going to have her, even with Kiska out of the picture. She turned bitter, and she didn’t care who she hurt along her path.”
I wrap my hand around Bron’s shoulder and give him a squeeze. “Yeah, you’re right.”
“Still hurts, especially because of the girl she once was to you.”
“You speak from experience?” I ask.
He grunts lifting his chin and then walks away. He does. I doubt that I’m the only man who knows what it’s like to lose someone close to them the way Viveka and I were close. It doesn’t hurt any less, but I need to let it go. She wasn’t that girl I once knew when she died. She was a woman that I hardly recognized.
Now, I need to focus on Kiska, and how to make her mine—one hundred percent mine.
Standing on the other side of my father’s office door is nerve-wracking. I’ve never been here before, not like this. It’s Sunday evening, and I need to know when I can contact Konstantin. I need to speak to him. I need to know that he’s okay and assure him that I’m all right, too. Unfortunately, all of this has to be done through my dad.
“Come in,” my dad calls. I don’t know how he knows I’m standing here, but I’m glad that I didn’t have to actually knock on the door.
Wrapping my hand around the knob, I turn it and step inside, careful to close the door quietly behind me. “Have a seat,” he murmurs. He’s focused on his computer, and I wonder just what is so important on a Sunday evening, but I don’t ask. “You’re here to talk to me about Skumin?” he asks without looking up.
“I am,” I admit.
My father grunts, his eyes leaving his computer before they connect with mine. It’s like I’m looking into a mirror when my gaze connects to his. “Do you know what he does, as his job in the organization?” he asks, steepling his fingers in front of his lips.
“He’s in charge of whores,” I simply state.
My father’s mouth opens slightly in surprise at my statement. “He is. And you know he hired them, sometimes,” my father explains. I wait for him to continue. He’s not telling me anything new, I knew that Konstantin often hired Viveka. “Do you know that when he did, he hurt them?”
“Spanked, paddled, hit with his belt? Choked?” I ask, arching a brow.
He frowns. “How well do you know him, Kiska?” he all but demands, his voice sharp.
I lean forward slightly before I tell my father the truth. “I know all of him, Papa. Just like he knows all of me. I know what he likes, and how he likes it, and I’m more than willing to give him that because I love him.”
My father’s eyes narrow before he leans back in his chair. “Well, I don’t have to ask if you’ve fucked him. Perhaps I should ask if you could be pregnant?” he bluntly says.
I decide two can play at this, whatever this is going on between us. “I suppose I could be, but I’m smarter than that. I’m on birth control.”
He nods. “So, your wish is to have him if he contacts me about a contract?”
I shake my head, and he widens his eyes. “No contracts,” I murmur. He opens his mouth to speak, but I don’t allow it. I interrupt. “If he comes to you. No contract. I want him, and I love him too much to allow that. He doesn’t want it, Papa.”
“I cannot let you just be free. You must be under contract to be protected. You are a Pakhan’s daughter, Kiska.”
I sigh as I run my fingers through my hair. “I know that I am. This isn’t when you and Mom were younger. This is a new Bratva. I am safe, Papa. I am safe, claimed by Konstantin. I am safe as your daughter,” I explain.
“I almost handed you to the devil,” he breathes.
I lift my chin, understanding his words as regret mixed with an apology. “Konstantin wouldn’t have allowed it,” I grin.
He shakes his head. “Fuck. You really love him, don’t you?”
“I do, Papa.”
“You do realize he’s almost twice your age, don’t you?” he grunts.
I smile. “Yeah, I do.” My smile causes my father’s frown to deepen. He lets out a curse before he scrubs his hand over his face.
“You’ll kill me, one of these days you’ll give me a goddamn heart attack,” he grunts.
Giggling at his words, “That will be one of my siblings, papa. They’re the wild ones,” I laugh.
“Fuck, you’re right,” he chuckles.
I leave my father’s office feeling better than I have in weeks. He approves of Konstantin and me, and he isn’t going to force a contract. Now I just need to get Konstantin here. I didn’t bother trying to br
ing up calling him to my dad. I had laid enough on him this evening. Tomorrow, I’ll work on my mom allowing me to talk to him and if that doesn’t work—Aunt Haleigh will for sure let me.
LOCKING MY DOOR BEHIND me, I look around my apartment. I haven’t spent much time here at all. It doesn’t just look empty, it feels it too. Making my way into my bedroom, I decide to take a shower. Starting the water, I step inside and let it run down my back. It’s ice cold, but I don’t care, it will heat up eventually.
Opening my eyes, I notice the evidence of Viveka all around me. Her expensive shampoo, her razor, and her body wash. They surround me. I’m not sure why she didn’t take all of this shit with her when she moved into the brothel. No, that’s a lie, I know why she didn’t. She thought that she would be back.
I should feel something like guilt, perhaps even remorse as I look at her things. I don’t. I only feel anger toward her and Akim. Both fucking filthy people who betrayed the Bratva. I don’t regret killing her, not even an ounce.
Once my shower is finished, I wrap a towel around my waist before I gather all of the shit from my shower that’s Viveka’s. I take it into the kitchen and dump it into the trash can. Then I grab an empty trash bag and walk back into my room where my closet is. Her shit litters the space, her clothes and shoes are everywhere.
Grabbing her clothes, I shove them into the bag, one after the other. I want her shit out of my place. I want to forget her, forget the sweet girl she was and the vindictive cunt, she turned out to be. Once everything is shoved into the bag, I throw some clothes on and take that bag to the trash shoot in the hall.
Passing by Kiska’s apartment sends an ache straight to my heart. She’s gone, she’s not in there, and fuck me, I want her to be. I want to wrap her in my arms to know that she’s okay. That she’s safe. I need her like I need air. I miss her. I miss waiting for her outside her dance classes. I miss the way her hair would tumble out of her tight bun, like it was only for my eyes. I miss all of her.
My phone rings in my pocket and I slip inside of my apartment before I answer it. “Skumin.”
“How long are you going to stay away from her?” Bronislav’s voice asks.
I grunt. It’s only been two days. Two long as fuck days. The women were picked up today and brought home. We don’t know for sure if there are hired men to come after the women, but Akim has been dead for two whole days, and we’ve not experienced any inklings of anything suspicious. It seems as though it was all a bluff. To me, it seems all too easy. Akim is definitely stupid, but I didn’t realize he was really that stupid.
“She’s safe with her father,” I murmur.
Bronislav grunts, his voice deep and harsh when he speaks. “It is not where she wishes to be, or where you wish her to be. Unless you’re giving her up because you’re some kind of pussy?”
“Fuck you,” I grind out.
“Go get your woman,” he states before he ends the call.
I stare at the phone for a beat. I am being a pussy. What if she doesn’t choose me? What if I was just the lesser of two evils? A man to take her away from the devil? Now that he’s gone, who is to say that I’m the one she truly loves? I’ve freely given her my heart, but what if she doesn’t truly want it?
Goddamn the questions make me feel like a fucking pussy. Any strong man would fly over there, walk into her father’s house and take her away, bringing her home with him. I’m hiding, and I know it. Afraid of rejection.
Every woman I have dated has rejected me in some form or another, every woman but Viveka and Paloma. Two women that I couldn’t see past our mutual friendship to want anything other than something physical.
When I met Kiska, I understood why it never worked with them or anybody else. It had always been her, always my sladkaya, I just hadn’t met her yet. And now, I’m hiding out like a fucking pussy, afraid, a coward.
I reach back and clench my fist, slamming it into the wall and watching it disappear into the sheetrock.
Fuck.
Goddammit.
I need her.
Removing my hand and watching the dust from the sheetrock fall onto the floor, I flex my fist. It isn’t broken, but it’s going to hurt like a son of a bitch in the morning. Making my way to the freezer, I pull out a bottle of my favorite vodka. Then I walk out on my balcony, slumping down in the chair before I remove the top off and take a swig of the liquor.
Pulling out my phone, I scroll through the names, my thumb hovering over Kirill’s. I fucking hate contracts. I hate what they do to people, how they tear people apart—how I’ve watched them tear whole families apart.
I close my eyes and think about my mother. She was arranged to be married to my father by a contract. My father never took that shit seriously. She was just another pussy to fuck, except she had his last name and as long as he gave her a son, all would be right in the world. She was pregnant almost immediately after they were married.
Then, it was business as usual. Women, whores, booze, money, dope, and the Bratva. His family didn’t matter. My mother was his due, what he had earned for being in good standing, something he reminded her of always.
If she stepped out of line, if she questioned anything, he’d be more than happy to remind her that he owned her—sealed in a contract. It was exactly the opposite of what I wanted in life. And yet, I want Kiska, and this is the only way to have her.
Setting my phone down on the table I forego calling Kirill, and I drink. I’ll call him in the morning, maybe. Right now, I need to get my shit together. Tomorrow I need to make sure my girls are being taken care of, I need to make sure their schedules are handled for a week or so. I can’t leave them hanging out to dry.
Tonight, I drink myself stupid until I pass out in the chair on my balcony.
“Have you seen him?” I ask Zoe in a whisper. I don’t know how I remembered her number, but I’m thankful that I did.
She hums, and it sounds disappointed. I know without her even saying anything that she hasn’t. “I haven’t, but Bron says he’s talked to him a few times.”
“He isn’t coming here for me, is he?” I ask.
Zoe doesn’t say anything, not that there’s anything to say. She knows it as much as I do. It’s been almost a week, and as far as I know he’s made zero attempt to contact me, or my father. I went to Aunt Haleigh’s yesterday and tried to talk her into letting me call him, but she didn’t buy into my desperation. She’s holding fast to my father’s wishes.
“How’s dance? Did they let you back into the school after you ditched the shows?” I ask, changing the subject.
Zoe lets out a groan. “I had to explain as much of what happened, as I could. Nobody bought that I had an emergency that kept me away for the entire show. Peter was fucking pissed. He’s still pissed. He’s been very vocal about wishing to know where you are. Bronislav is getting really annoyed with him.”
I can’t help but giggle thinking about Bron and Peter going toe to toe. “I’m glad you’re still dancing,” I sigh.
“I’m banned from auditioning for the next three shows,” she explains. “What are you going to do, Kiska? You can’t just quit dancing, are you going to try out for a company there?”
I don’t want to dance anywhere but New York. I don’t want to live anywhere but my tiny apartment with Konstantin. I just want the life I’d built back, the beautiful life I had with my beautiful man.
“I don’t know,” I whisper. I feel as though I’ve been stripped completely bare. I haven’t danced in a week; my body feels sluggish and out of shape. I need to get back there, for my sanity. “I don’t know what I’m going to do. I have no freaking clue.”
Zoe sighs. “Forget Konstantin. He’s pushed and pulled you around too many times already. What do you want?”
“He’s all I can think about, Zoe,” I admit on a whimper as my eyes fill with tears. “I want him, and I want to dance, that’s all.”
“Then get your ass back here,” she states.
I give her a whis
pered goodbye before hanging up on her. I can’t talk about this anymore, about Konstantin, or how I feel. She doesn’t understand that I don’t have the freedom to hop on a plane and go back whenever I feel like it. My life is not my own, it has never been, and it will never be. What my life is, is controlled by my father until he decides who I marry, then it will be controlled by whoever that is.
“Kiska?” my mom frowns from the doorway. I wipe the tears from my eyes before I turn around to face her. “I know that it all seems so devastating right now,” she whispers.
I almost snort. I would tell her that she has no idea, but she does. She raised me for years all on her own with zero help from anybody. A teen mom who stripped to make ends meet. She knows what devastating feels like. What I’m going through is nothing compared to the things she’s gone through.
“It will all work out,” she sighs.
“It will work out the way Dad wants it to work out.”
She lets out a sigh before she speaks. “He wants what’s best for you. Trust me, he really does. It may not seem like it, but he’s always wanted what was for the best.”
Closing my eyes, I nod. My mother loves and trusts him, implicitly. She truly believes that everything he does is to protect me, protect us. She doesn’t know that he almost sold me off to some fucking monster, or maybe she does and still trusts him? I don’t know. All I know is that I can’t trust him. Not anymore.
“Dinner will be ready in about thirty minutes.” I hear her heels click against the floor as she walks away from me and I let out a breath.
I don’t want to see anybody. I just want to curl into a ball and sleep. Is it dramatic? Heck yes, it is. Do I care? Not right now. I let out a sigh and stand up. I need to stop being a freaking baby. I need to get back to practicing every day, all day long. I’ll never be able to dance again if I just stop now, if I anticipate my fate.
Grabbing tights and a leotard, I quickly dress before I put my hair up in a tight bun. Picking up my duffle bag, I slip my feet into a pair of sandals and start to walk through the house.
Chosen by the Badman (Russian Bratva Book 9) Page 19
