Owned by the Badman (Russian Bratva #1)

by Hayley Faiman

I take in everything my sister has said. I tell her to go and relax, to spend some time with Haleigh before we depart. With a confused look, she does as I ask and leaves me alone with my thoughts.

  I call out to Dimitri and explain vaguely that my sister could be in danger and to keep the security tight around the estate. I don’t want to give up any names yet; I have some serious digging to do and the fewer people who know what I am investigating, the safer it will be—for everybody.

  “I will take care of this, Mariya. He will not get away with what he is doing,” I offer to her before we leave for Moscow. She nods and throws her arms around me.

  “Thank you, brother,” she cries into my neck.

  I awkwardly pat her on the back. The only woman I have ever allowed to freely touch me is my Haleigh and this is … strange. Sonia has hugged me on rare occasions, but this is different. This is emotional, and it feels good.

  Love has made me a pussy.

  Two hours later, we are on the plane—my little family and me—but my mind is elsewhere. My mind is on Ivan fucking Chekov.

  Does Sergei know what he is doing?

  Is he in on it?

  I have a feeling it is more than making barters with young parents and homeless children. It must be just the tip of the shit storm. Could Sergei and our army—the men who have been raised in this system, who have had lovers and children ripped from them—all overrule one of the most powerful people in Russia?

  Who can I trust?

  I know the answer to that question. That answer is unchangeable. No one.

  I can trust no one but myself.

  “I can hear your brain working. You are thinking too hard, Maxim. Is everything all right?” My beautiful little wife strokes my cheek with the backs of her fingers while my perfect son nuzzles between her breasts. The boy has the right ideas.

  “Just work, golubushka. Nothing for you to worry over,” I say softly, taking her hand and placing a kiss on her wedding ring. She nods but I can tell she is not convinced. My wife, she already knows me too well. I like that she can read my moods.

  I can be a surly bastard, so it is better for her to know when to stay away.

  Hours later, the plane lands and I see Alex— my kryshas—enforcer—is waiting for us. He looks pissed off, as usual, but I know he will be happy that I have calmed down and will be focusing solely on work from now on. He was getting annoyed with my bad moods.

  I help Haleigh off the plane and walk toward Alex, who is already loading our luggage into the trunk of the Audi.

  “Alex, you have met Mrs. Lasovska, yes?” He nods and tips his head at her, his steely eyes not hiding his hardened past.

  Alex spent his youth in prison in Moscow. He has been a soldier since before his balls dropped, and he has done and seen things no person ever should. He is a good man, though, and as trustworthy as a man can be in this dark world. He gives no shit and takes none. I like him a great deal.

  “You are right, Mrs. Lasovska. The boy does look like Maxim,” he says softly, surprising me.

  His grasp of the English language surprises me a great deal, as well. Without an education, I wonder where he has mastered the language. I usher Haleigh and Maksimilyan into the car and clap Alex on the back.

  “Where did you learn English?” I question him. His face turns red before he answers.

  “My lover. He is from London,” he admits. I throw back my head with laughter.

  “Does he live here in Moscow?” I ask. Alex jerks his head in what resembles a nod.

  “When Haleigh is settled, she makes dinner for you two. We have a quiet evening in and I meet your man,” I offer. Alex gapes at me in surprise and then he grins slightly and nods.

  Maybe I will change Alex’s duty to be my wife’s Byki—bodyguard. I know her fantastic tits will not distract him, and he will do his job perfectly.

  My little dove deserves the best, but I won’t have some idiot ogling her at the same time.

  The penthouse is gorgeous. It is nothing like the last one, thank goodness, or even like Maxim’s home in the states. Soft grays, creams, and splashes of light turquoise decorate the space—a dream come true.

  Maxim ushers us in but then tells me that he must meet with Alex to go over what he has missed with work since he has been gone. I don’t mind at all, and I decide to discover what other surprises await me in the apartment.

  Walking down the hall, I see a door and open it. I gasp, which startles Maksimilyan, and he giggles. The room is breathtaking and so very perfect.

  There is a crib against one wall and a changing table with a dresser on the opposite side. The walls are painted a soft bluish, gray, and it is serene. The crib bumper is made of a gray and white chevron print and a soft, mink fabric that feels luxurious against my fingertips. The sheet is a navy blue and the crib skirt is a solid gray. There is a basket on the floor full of stuffed animals, and I check the closet and gasp again. There are clothes in every size from nine months to five toddler, everything he could ever need or want.

  “Do you like it, golubushka?” Maxim asks, astonishing me. I twirl around to look at him.

  “How?” I ask, my eyes darting around the room.

  “I called one of my men’s wives. She helped me out while we were in America.” He shrugs. I cover my gaping mouth with my hand as my eyes fill with tears.

  “I love it, Maxim,” I whisper as the tears flow from my eyes.

  Maxim takes two long strides toward me and presses against Maksimilyan in my arms; one of his hands around my waist, the other cradling Maksimilyan’s soft head.

  “I will do anything for you, angel moy. Whatever you need, you have. Whatever you want, it is yours. I live to make you happy,” he says huskily. I press my forehead against his neck, inhaling his spicy masculine scent—my husband, my lover, and now, my friend.

  “Thank you, baby,” I whisper, knowing my words of gratitude will never be enough.

  “I had her leave the walls blank so you could decorate as you wish,” he says softly against my hair. I nod looking up at him, my throat thick with emotion.

  “You are too good to me, Maxim,” I whisper, my eyes searching him. He snorts.

  “I have been deplorable to you, golubushka, but I swore to you that things would change, that I would change, that I had changed. I love you and whatever is mine is yours. Whatever you need or want, I will provide it for you. This life, beginning right here and right now, is ours. It is new, and it is a start to something wonderful.”

  “Our new life is so beautiful, Maxim. It is beautiful because we are not only starting with Maksimilyan, but we are starting with honesty, love, and support,” I softly murmur. He nods as his fingers tuck a strand of hair behind my ear.

  “Now, Maxim, that being said. Something has been weighing heavily on my mind this past years and I think it is time to tell me exactly what happened to my parents,” I demand.

  Maxim’s face turns white, and for the first time, my Maxim is nervous and perhaps scared. I have not asked about my parents before now, because in all honesty I never wanted to see them again after my mother’s attack. Maybe I am selfish, or crazy, or I was just in denial but I was glad not to have to deal with them on top of everything else—my abduction, Maxim leaving, and Maksimilyan’s birth.

  If we are beginning with truth, with honesty, then I have to know. I never heard from them again after the night my mother assaulted me, and it has bothered me, how they just vanished, I honestly expected much more drama thrown my way. I haven’t missed them, not really, but I have been curious. Surely, Torrent would have come to me if something happened to them?

  Maxim slowly and nervously explains the night my own mother attacked me. Luckily, he doesn’t go into great detail, but he does freely admit that he killed my parents. I want to feel remorse for their loss of life, but I am finding it extremely hard.

  Maxim also divulges the truth on how I became his bride. My father owed him money, he owed him life, and he paid Maxim back with mine. I shou
ld be angry that I was sold like a prized animal at the fair, but I can’t be. That one split-second, selfish decision my father made has brought me so much more joy than I ever thought possible.

  “What happened with all of their belongings?” I ask, stroking his chest. Maksimilyan is asleep in his new crib, and we are lying on our king-size bed, wrapped in sheets, going over the dirty rotten details later that evening.

  “My men went in and cleared out the house. We sold or dumped their clothes, but I had them put anything personal in storage in case you ever wanted to go through it.”

  His voice sounds so clinical, and I can tell he doesn’t want me to go and look through all their crap. Neither do I. Except for my great-grandmother’s necklace brought over from France. I wore it on my wedding day, and I think I would like that one thing for myself.

  “No, thank you.” I shake my head slightly, and Maxim runs the back of his fingers against the side of my breast.

  “What about Torrent and the police?” His eyes slice to mine, and I know that whatever he has to say could possibly scare me.

  “The American police, they bow to me. Torrent nodded with understanding and left to places unknown. He knew who I was when I married you. He knew a lot and knows to keep his mouth shut.”

  I nod, understanding his words. Torrent is wherever a man goes when his bosses are murdered by the Bratva. He is probably serving some other family, most likely another rich family who will say too much in front of him.

  “You amaze me. I thought for sure you were going to despise me,” Maxim confesses.

  “Never, Maxim. I love you, and my parents were not upstanding members of society. I’m not sure I could have ever forgiven my mother for her actions or my father for selling me to you— even if it did end up being a good thing.”

  “Yes, but I am worse because I rid this world of them.” His voice is deep and husky.

  “You did, but it was not for greed or anything like that. It was because my mother attacked me, Maxim. She was not right in the head. Though you could have called the police, I would assume that it wouldn’t have mattered? Calling them?” I ask. Maxim licks my collarbone before speaking again.

  “You assume correct, golubushka.” He chuckles.

  Then, all conversation ceases as Maxim slides his shirt over my body and makes love to me the only way that he knows how. His body surges into mine hard, rough, and fast as I come around his perfect cock.

  THE DAYS ARE LONG and lonely, but Maksimilyan fills them with gurgles and sweet kisses while we wait for Maxim to come home. Some days he is home by five, others not until the wee hours of the morning, but he is working. Not once has he smelled like another woman, and he is always, always, trying to get inside of me. I never deny him. I want him just as badly as he wants me. I have never been so happy.

  Tonight, however, I am preparing for a dinner party. Maxim’s boss, aka: the scariest man on earth and his wife are coming over. Maxim tells me they both speak English fairly well, and although he doesn’t know the wife well, he believes we will get along. A pang of sadness fills me when I think about Sonia; I miss her and her friendship so much.

  I am dressed in a tight black scoop neck jersey dress that comes down to my knees and flatters my new curvy figure but doesn’t show off too much. I don’t want to look slutty for Maxim’s boss and his wife.

  Dinner is chicken kiev, a chicken breast flattened and rolled around a slice of butter and fresh parsley, breaded and deep fried; we'll also have a green salad, asparagus, potato wedges, and ptchie moloko for dessert, which is a cake with marshmallow filling topped with chocolate.

  Since being home with Maksimilyan, I have been practicing my cooking and wanted to make somewhat of a traditional Russian meal for Maxim’s boss. I want to impress them and I want them to like me.

  “Angel moy, I am home,” Maxim calls out as I am just finishing the dessert.

  The table is set, the food is finishing in the oven, and I have donned my pink high heels. I am ready.

  “Dobriy vyechyer,” I call out in a horrible Russian accent. I try to tell my husband good evening, but I know that I have botched the whole thing.

  “That was good, golubushka. I am very impressed,” Maxim praises. I beam up at him, proud that he is impressed with me.

  “Where is my son?” he asks, kissing my forehead as his hand grabs a handful of my ass.

  “Sleeping until our guests arrive. I wanted him to be rested.” I sigh as Maxim hums, his hand dipping lower, his index finger tracing the inside of my knee. I shift slightly, feeling that burning need begin to rise inside of me. It happens every single time my husband touches me.

  “They will be here soon,” I breathe. My voice is low, husky, dripping with sex and need.

  “Then we must hurry, angel moy,” he whispers in my ear.

  I hear his belt clink and the whoosh of the fabric as it lands on the stone flooring. My dress is lifted to my waist and my panties shoved to the side as Maxim enters me with one hard thrust from behind. I gasp before I moan at the feeling of his hard length deep inside of me.

  “Hold on to the counter,” Maxim demands.

  I do as he says, right before he slowly slides out of me. He then thrusts back inside, so hard, burying himself. It takes my breath away. One of Maxim’s hands slides around to the nape of my hair, tangling roughly in my perfectly curled blonde locks. He tugs my neck, my back arching, achingly, at the bowed angle, but it only fuels my fire. The jolt makes me wet, and I moan.

  “You look so fucking sexy right now. Your dress pulled up, your head pulled back, my cock deep inside of you—at my fucking mercy, my good girl. Mine,” he growls.

  I whimper, feeling my center clench around Maxim’s hard length, trying to keep him where I want him, but he is right—I am at his mercy, and I love it.

  Maxim doesn’t stop plunging inside me, slamming into me as hard as he can. His pure raw strength is more than perfect; he is more than perfect. The hand bruising my hip slowly reaches around, sliding down the front of my panties. He begins to lightly tap my clit with two fingers, sending jolts of electricity thrumming through my body.

  “I want you to come all over my cock, Haleigh,” he murmurs as his teeth sink into the flesh at the side of my neck.

  His fingers slap my clit one last time, and I do as he wills; I shatter, my body pulsing and my mouth opening to let out a noiseless scream as I fall down the rabbit hole of bliss. I don’t even know when Maxim comes. I am a mindless pile of flesh, my body resting against the granite countertop.

  “You are amazing, golubushka.” He kisses up the side of my neck, taking my earlobe between his teeth and lightly sucking on it as he pulls out of me and readjusts himself.

  “I better go clean up,” I say drowsily, trying to stand on my wobbly jelly legs.

  “Nyet, you will not,” Maxim barks as I readjust my dress. My wide eyes meet his and he just smirks.

  “Maxim, we’re having a dinner party. I cannot have you coming out of me all evening,” I say in horror.

  He throws back his head in laughter, hooking me around the waist and bringing me into his chest as his lips capture mine in a slow, soft kiss.

  “I like knowing my cum leaks between your legs. I like you to have a reminder of who you belong to, angel moy, especially with my boss here,” he mutters, kissing the tip of my nose. I huff and roll my eyes at my crazy, dominant, caveman husband.

  “Here, my mother told me wearing my hair down was vulgar, but she had no clue what vulgar was.”

  I wrinkle my nose and Maxim throws back his head and laughs again. I want to be irritated at his irrational words, but I can’t be, not when he laughs, as it is so rare. I just let him get away with whatever because it is such a beautiful sight.

  The bell rings, breaking me from my husband’s rare laughter moment. Maxim kisses my temple before winking and heading to the door. At the exact moment, I hear Maksimilyan crying out in his bedroom, so I let Maxim handle the guests while I tend to my sweet boy.
Maksimilyan is giggling by the time I walk into his expertly decorated bedroom. I quickly kiss his round cheek before I change his diaper and his outfit.

  I walk into the living room to find Maxim serving drinks to our guests. Radimir and his model-gorgeous wife are standing, taking drinks from Maxim. Champagne for the wife, and vodka for Radimir.

  Maksimilyan claps sending each person’s gaze my way. Maxim smiles softly at us and walks straight to Maksimilyan, grabbing him and kissing his cheek, whispering words I don’t yet understand in Russian. I smile at our guests and introduce myself.

  “Hello, I am Haleigh Lasovska.” I hold out my hand and try not to tremble under the scrutinizing, terrifying gaze of Radimir.

  “Radimir,” he grunts.

  I turn to his wife—a tall, thin, light blonde-haired, blue-eyed woman with perfect curves. She almost looks as if she ordered them from a catalog. Her cheeks are thin and her features sharp, unlike my own rounded ones.

  “Klavdia,” she says, holding out her hand in a limp way.

  I know why she does it this way, it is so that men will kiss her hand, but I won’t. Instead, I loosely take it and kiss her on each cheek as my greeting. She gasps in surprise. I was raised by social climbers; I know what snooty people want and this bitch oozes snoot. She is no Sonia, that’s for sure.

  “This little man of ours is Maksimilyan.” Maxim beams proudly as he bounces our happy baby a few times, making his blue eyes twinkle.

  “Dinner is ready if you are hungry,” I offer.

  The stiff couple nods once before turning to go into the dining room. I give Maxim a side-glance, and he just shrugs and winks. Ass.

  The dinner is tense, to say the least, but as soon as the men begin to talk shop, I smile at Klavdia and try to engage her in conversation. I want to get along with the wife of Maxim’s boss. I know she isn’t Sonia, but I also know that with what these men do for a living, they need strong women behind them.

  “So, how long have you and Radimir been married?” I ask as she pushes her food around the plate, never taking a bite. She looks up at me and smirks.