Jaded Jewels (Born Bratva Book 7)

by Suzanne Steele

  Vladimira grimaced and let out a frustrated sigh. The only loose end she was worried about was tall, bossy, lived in Louisville, and had a cock to die for...

  Glazov took advantage of her silence for his parting shot. “I’m sure Yafon will be thrilled to have you nearby. Permanently.”

  Vladimira’s eyes narrowed. “I didn’t think you knew about our arrangement.”

  “Arrangement, my ass. You two have been circling each other for years. I know things changed when you visited for the wedding, and it’s about time you two figure your shit out. Oh, and by the way? I know everything. I’m the fucking Pakhan, remember? Now get your ass back here. I’ll make arrangements for your flight. Plan on leaving a week from today.”

  “Spoken like a true Pakhan—bossy and domineering.”

  “It’s all I know.” His voice softened. “Sestra, I need you. Come home.”

  “Well, since you asked so nicely…”

  Her brother’s only answer was silence as he ended the call. In true Glazov fashion he’d said what he had to say. He wasn’t one to waste words and he didn’t like repeating himself.

  Vladimira placed the phone on the coffee table, then curled up on the red velvet loveseat. She stayed there for a long while, looking around the room, absently running her fingertip back and forth along the soft fabric. She shook her head slowly, chuckling, “Well, Louisville, here I come. I hope you’re ready for me.”

  Mind made up, she straightened. After all, there really was nothing to think about. Her brother needed her, so she would come. Simple. She would have to figure the rest of it out as she went along.

  “Anfisa!”

  The young woman only had to be summoned once and in seconds she was darting around the corner. She came to a halt in front of Vladimira, smiling expectantly. Vladimira really had struck gold with the young woman, despite the sad circumstances of their meeting. Several years earlier, Anfisa’s parents had died in an automobile accident. Left to fend for herself at only seventeen, her priest had referred her to Vladimira as a live-in housekeeper and she soon became indispensable.

  Due to Anfisa’s golden blonde hair and baby blue eyes, no one would ever make the mistake of thinking they were related. Nevertheless, Vladimira looked on her as the daughter she’d never had. They worked smoothly together. Vladimira never had to repeat herself around Anfisa; in fact, she usually didn’t need to say a word because the girl anticipated her needs with little effort and near perfect accuracy. Anfisa’s allegiance was to Vladimira and, therefore, to the Glazov family.

  Already certain of the response she would receive, and not wanting to focus on her own anxiety about the situation, Vladimira kept her tone casual, as if discussing the weather, when she announced, “Anfisa, we’re moving to America in a week. Would you like that?”

  “I want to be where you are, ma’am. There’s nothing keeping me here. I would like to see America.” She wasn’t trying to get on the good side of her boss. No, the words came from her heart, with absolute sincerity.

  Vladimira wasn’t a particularly tenderhearted woman, but she had become attached to the girl she’d rescued in her time of need. She smiled as she stood and crossed the room to stand by the window, saying over her shoulder, “Then it’s settled. We’re moving. I’ll take care of any paperwork you need, love. You just concentrate on getting us packed. The Pakhan will arrange everything so we’ll wait for word from him on the particulars.”

  “Yes, ma’am.” As quickly as she had appeared she was gone. Anyone else would have missed it, but Vladimira had seen the spark of excitement in the girl’s eyes over the move. Or maybe she was simply happy to know that Vladimira would never leave her behind.

  Becoming part of Vladimira’s inner circle wasn’t an easy task to accomplish. The young girl was honored to be included and her loyalty to Vladimira, and now the Glazov family, knew no bounds. Bratva was Anfisa’s family now and would be until the day she died.

  Vladimira was intrigued by her brother’s plans for her to be the face of the diamond business while also having input on the import side of things. There were two segments in Glazov’s business model: The Firebird line, named after the Russian fable that had intrigued him for so many years; and the Jaded Jewels line, which featured synthetic diamonds, created by the best Russian scientists in the business. Glazov would accept nothing less than the best in all things.

  To be chosen to be more deeply involved in the diamond business had been a surprise, but honestly, she had been wondering how Bazarnik could ever pull that one off. The mere idea amused her. Once again, Glazov had read the situation exactly right. The boy had no business interacting with people in a retail establishment. He needed to be doing what he did best: burning shit down and blowing shit up. Her brother had come up with the perfect win-win for everyone, as always.

  She felt strangely apprehensive about seeing Yafon, and yet she couldn’t deny the heat that was thrumming in her veins at the prospect of touching him again. She had missed him even before she had stepped onto the plane after the wedding reception. During the ensuing months, the distance between them had ached like a phantom limb, the pain so intense that it would seep into her dreams and wake her up at night.

  She wasn’t a woman who gave her heart away easily, but the night she had spent with Yafon had caused a seismic shift and she was still reeling months later.

  Much like the poison she concealed in her ring, Yafon had entered her system undetected and she hadn’t understood his true impact until it was too late. However, she was a realist and accepted the limitations of their situation as a fact of life. Even the Pakhan couldn’t make an ocean and thousands of miles disappear.

  Then again, maybe he just had.

  Chapter Three

  “You have formed an addiction to playing with that thing,” Glazov said to his cousin.

  “My coin helps me think. Not to mention, it helps with my dexterity. A man needs that in our line of business,” Novak chuckled.

  “Dexterity? What for? Planning on choking the shit out of somebody today?”

  “I am nothing if not prepared. So, what are you going to do with the Fireman out there?”

  Glazov watched through his office window as Bazarnik lit one match after another and tossed them into the fire pit. He almost felt sorry for the guy. Bazarnik looked forlorn. Glazov sighed heavily, knowing he needed to get the boy in the right line of work before he got himself into trouble.

  Glazov knew as well as anyone that a person could only keep their demons at bay for so long. Bazarnik wasn’t the most self-disciplined man as it was. Glazov thought back on his conversation with Vladimira earlier in the week. With her joining the fold in Louisville in a couple of days, it was time to give serious thought to Bazarnik’s role in the organization. He could be an asset if his boss placed him in a job that suited his crazy ass. Luckily, Glazov had a gift for that kind of thing.

  “I’ve been thinking,” Novak said. “Why don’t we open a kink bar? The kid would be perfect for that. And it’s a great way to launder money. We could base it on a Circus de Soleil type thing but with a Russian twist—have bitches hanging from the ceiling and shit like that.”

  “Classy,” Glazov drawled.

  “You gotta admit, Louisville doesn’t have much to offer the kink community. You and I both know there is a demand for it. Hell, you’ve got the dirt on every government and law enforcement official around here to prove it. You’d have the market on it and they could hardly complain if they’re partaking of the sexy goods, now could they? There’s money in that shit, man. That one chick on television got rich selling sex toys.”

  Glazov considered his cousin’s avid expression for a long moment, finally saying, “You might be on to something, and I emphasize might. It would certainly keep the boy busy scouting possible locations and eventually setting up the club. He could do a nightly fire show for the clientele and it could temper his need to burn shit up.”

  Maybe Novak really was on to something;
better to keep the little pyromaniac close so he could keep an eye on him. He didn’t want to let Bazarnik go back to Russia while Natasha was pregnant. According to the constant baby chatter in his house these days, she had about two months to go. Bazarnik was trained as a Bratva cleaner; blowing shit up and cleaning up crime scenes were the boy’s specialties. Anything to do with chemicals and the kid could do it. It had been a perfect fit, but Glazov needed to come up with a long-term solution.

  Yes…The Fireman would definitely come in handy when trouble loomed on the horizon. Whether Glazov wanted to think about it or not, that was the reality of being Born Bratva. If trouble came his way, he’d be ready for it—a good Pakhan always was.

  Chapter Four

  “I’m fat. I never thought I’d be this fat, Nikita.” Natasha was standing in front of the cheval mirror in their bedroom, turning from side to side and awkwardly looking over her shoulder at the reflection of her barely recognizable backside.

  “You’re pregnant with twins.”

  “But I still have a couple of months to go and twins don’t even run in our fam--” She gasped and whipped around, hands on her hips as she blasted him with a disbelieving glare. “Are you saying I’m fat?!”

  “You’re the one who’s always talking about the Bratva gods. Perhaps they’ve seen fit to give us a boy and a girl. Just imagine a little mini-Roksana and a cold blooded little Glazov Jr. And no, I’m not saying you’re fat, lyubov moya.” Nikita let his heavy-lidded gaze slide along her curves, taking in the softly rounded flesh that he had been thoroughly enjoying during the pregnancy. “Luscious, yes. Fat, hell no.”

  “Hmmph. Cold blooded? I’m not giving birth to a vampire, Nikita.”

  “Are you insinuating the Pakhan is a vampire?” he said with mock seriousness.

  “Of course not. However, vampires aren’t warm blooded creatures so...”

  He sauntered over to her, wiggling his fingers in the air and standing behind her where she still stood looking at her reflection in the mirror. He nibbled along her neck, whispering, “I vant to suck your blood.”

  “And I want to spill yours.”

  “You and your dirty talk,” he groaned against her skin, sliding an arm around her thickening waistline as his other hand cupped a plump breast. “You sure about that? If you kill me, you won’t get any more of this good Glazov dick.”

  She reached around and ran her fingers through his blonde ponytail. “That’s not fair. You know I’ve been horny as hell ever since I got pregnant. Maybe I’ll wait to strike until after the babies get here.”

  She slid her hands over her round belly as she considered how everything would change with parenthood. He rested his chin on her shoulder and followed her lead, covering her hands with his own. His need to protect her had intensified beyond measure ever since they learned that she was pregnant. He hadn’t thought he could love her any more than he did, but he had been wrong.

  They had been together since they were children. Neither had ever been with anyone else and neither felt they had missed out on anything. They had always belonged to each other, heart and soul, and now she was to bear the first Glazov grandchild. The Pakhan had made no secret of his urgent desire for grandchildren to ensure the Bratva legacy was handed down properly. She recognized the significance of her pregnancy in those terms, but she was just as excited about being a mother.

  The heartbreaking loss of her father would wrap itself around her like a shroud with no warning these days. He had been murdered as the result of her mother’s treachery many years ago. Glazov had taken her in as a tribute to her father and, in no small measure, to help assuage his own grief at the loss of his friend. He had been the father figure in her life ever since and had embraced the role wholeheartedly, but never more so than now. He seemed to know that her father was on her mind lately, and had taken her aside early on to share with her his profound joy at becoming a grandfather.

  She would always live the Bratva life—children in the Glazov family never changed that. If anything, the women became even more ruthless after having children. It was an ongoing joke that childbearing awakened a Bratva wife’s ‘inner mama bear’ and fostered the need to protect the dynasty at all costs.

  She liked the idea of her two children having the kind of bond that only twins could understand. Of course, in this family, any relationship was intense, but that kind of bond would make them far more formidable than they could ever be on their own. From the womb to the tomb, they would have each other’s backs.

  Whether it was one baby or ten, she would love them with all her heart. Every time her babies moved or there was so much as a flutter in her stomach, she felt like her heart was bursting with love. These babies were tangible evidence of the love she and Nikita shared.

  Babies. Twins. Hmm. She turned in Nikita’s arms and pressed her lips to his. She smiled against his lips as his cock surge to attention, nudging her rounded stomach through the thin fabric of her nightgown.

  He pulled her along with him as he walked backwards toward the bed, pulling the sheer nightgown over her head as he went. He turned around with her in his arms and lowered her gently onto the bed. He was wearing nothing but jogging pants and they were off as soon as he could yank them down. He gripped her ankles and pulled her toward him until her ass was at the edge of the bed, his fingers caressing her soaked cleft.

  “You are always so ready for this cock, aren’t you?”

  She nodded and raised her hips in an invitation for him to give her what she so desperately needed. He took himself in hand, lined up the bell end of his shaft with her pussy and pushed inside. A grunt of pleasure rumbled from his chest as the broad head of his cock breached her snug opening.

  “Touch yourself,” he said through gritted teeth. The sight of her pleasuring herself with her head tossed back was the sexiest thing he’d ever seen. It didn’t take long these days, and as the orgasm swept through her without warning. Her inner walls clamped down on his shaft as she came apart in his arms.

  He knew Natasha loved it when he talked dirty to her, but his brain couldn’t even access language to express how the cataclysmic waves of pleasure were shredding his control. He couldn’t speak, could only feel. As his thick, engorged shaft slid back and forth against her walls, the friction of skin against skin drove him wild. It was all he needed to send him hurtling mindlessly toward his own climax.

  God, he loved this woman and the babies she was carrying. Yes, he was exactly where he needed to be—in the arms of the woman who would share the rest of his days.

  Chapter Five

  As Yafon stood stoically in front of Glazov’s desk, he was careful to keep his expression neutral. Why had the Pakhan called this meeting? Glazov’s steely glare only served to set Yafon’s nerves on edge.

  The Pakhan was known for using silence to his advantage in moments like this, by waiting and watching before saying what was on his mind. He was a student of human nature. Silence was a tool. It made people uncomfortable; they would fill the silence if given enough of it.

  Glazov’s taut, chiseled features were at odds with his relaxed posture as he leaned back in his ornate desk chair and contemplated his guest. It was as if he knew something Yafon didn’t and, in this case, it was true.

  “There is a question I have been meaning to ask you, Yafon,” Glazov said smoothly, his eyes narrowing as he steepled his fingers in front of his chest.

  “Yes, Pakhan.”

  “When did you plan on telling me you were fucking my sister?” Glazov asked, his face as cold and unyielding as stone.

  Yafon’s jaw went slack and blood thundered in his ears. How in the hell had Glazov found out what was going on behind closed doors? Had Vladimira told him? Somehow, he doubted it. He decided it was probably best that he never know where Glazov got his information.

  Vladimira had been adamant that they not say anything to her brother, insisting that no one had ever been good enough for her in Glazov’s eyes. She didn’t want Yafon to be ca
ught in the Pakhan’s crosshairs. And yet, here he was.

  “Sir, this is much more than a tryst. I don’t see Vladimira as just some woman I’m fu--, um, sleeping with.” He took a deep breath, summoning the courage to say what he had yet to say out loud to anyone. “I’m going to marry her, if she’ll have me.”

  Novak’s head jerked up and he stopped twirling that infernal Russian coin between his fingers. Sleeping with Vladimira was one thing, but marrying her? Novak couldn’t help but wonder how long this had been going on. Even more so, he wondered how long Glazov had known and why he hadn’t mentioned it. Then again, he of all people knew Glazov’s style was to hold his cards close to the vest.

  Yafon gathered his thoughts for this unexpected conversation. Glazov’s expression hadn’t changed. Still impossible to read after all these years. It was true; his poker face was the best in the business. Novak, however, bristled with restless energy as he looked from one man to the other, waiting to see how this moment was going to play out. And Glazov did not disappoint.

  “Then I guess you need to get your ass on my private jet and go get her. There can’t be a wedding without a bride.” Okay, he’s being sarcastic, but he hasn’t come over the desk yet which means I may live through this, Yafon thought to himself.

  Yafon scowled and seemed to search for words, finally saying, “My loyalty is to Bratva, always. I would never leave my Pakhan, not for any woman.”

  Glazov blew out a deep breath as he briefly pinched the bridge of his nose. “Your loyalty never goes unnoticed, Yafon. You’re not leaving me. You’re going to claim your future wife.”

  “If she’ll marry your ass,” Novak snickered. Glazov ignored his cousin’s smart-ass comment. It was par for the course where Novak was concerned.