“Ivan and Nikolay — my father, took liberties at the whorehouse often. Unfortunately, they both wanted the same young girl once, my mother. She was twelve years old and a virgin, worth a bundle to my father.
“Nikolay told Ivan he couldn’t fuck her. She was too valuable as a virgin and must be kept for a higher price. In the middle of the night, Ivan fucked her ignoring Nikolay’s instructions, the next morning he found her, almost comatose. It was then that he gave her, her first taste of drugs, to take the pain away.
“Nikolay was enraged and confronted Ivan, who denied the whole thing. He called his father, Vasily, and told him that Ivan was no longer allowed in his whorehouse, that he didn’t want the agreement any longer. He was done with the whole lot, and he wanted out.
“The only way Vasily would allow it was if my father would give him the whorehouse and take my mother with him when he went. He also must pledge himself to the Bratva and work for him, doing whatever he was instructed to do. My father would do anything for her. The other stipulation was that he would give up their children, if they ever have any, to the cause. Nikolay agreed, and that’s where their story, and mine, began.”
Maxim places a kiss on my forehead before he continues with his story, and I relish in his gentle touch.
“Drugs and sex—that was their life. Nikolay did what he had to do for the Bratva, but his rank was the lowest of the low. He was too strung out to do any real work.
“My parents, they did love each other, I think, but they were both broken and their minds clouded by drugs. When we were a bit older—my sister and I—Vasily and his men came for us, but my parents fought them and they both were killed.”
I gasp at the thought and at the frankness, the coldness of Maxim’s retelling of this emotional tale. How could he just say the words and not break down? He clears his throat and then continues.
“I was dropped off at an orphanage, a Bratva orphanage, meant for housing the boys until it was time for them to begin their work. My sister was take elsewhere watched much closer than I was by her charges because she needed to be untouched in order to make Ivan the most money. He wanted to ensure his niece would be perfect for her potential buyers,” he says taking a moment to breathe.
“Baby,” I whisper with tears in my eyes. He just shakes his head.
“The worst, Ivan paid the older boys who he knew would do it, to defile me, his own nephew, just to get back at my parents. I wasn’t big enough to defend myself yet. I only found out why I was targeted last night. Gregori, of all people, showed me the computer file that proved it all with photos. I never knew Ivan was my uncle or anything of this story until last night. I thought that when I was approached to be part of Bratva and my agreement with them was made that it was a choice, it was never a choice, I would have always been made to give up my children for the armies.”
I gasp and then start to sob, thinking about my big strong husband being abused and for nothing more than some man’s sick twisted entertainment. It all makes sense, him coming home drunk and angry. I crawl into his lap and wrap my arms around him burying my nose in his neck while I sob for him.
“It was long ago, angel moy. Do not cry,” he whispers, trying to comfort me. I can’t handle that. I look up at him through my watery eyes, and I give him a shaky smile, my lips trembling.
“Is it bad that I’m happy he died, and that his own son killed him?” I ask, watching in beautiful fascination as he throws back his head and laughs. The tension of the evening is suddenly broken, and he pulls me closer to his body.
“You are amazing, golubushka. Let us put all of this in the past,” he suggests. I nod chewing my lip.
“These people were supposed to be family. They are your family, and this is how they behave? It scares me, Maxim,” I whisper. He just holds me tighter.
“You need not to fear, golubushka. This will all be over soon enough. Luckily, Yakov does not run things the way his father did.”
“Gregori …” I let the word trail off.
My Maxim shakes his head and slides his nose up the column of my neck, his breath on my ear hot and warm.
“He is worthless, he is dead, and if he weren’t, I would kill him, so he matters not. What he did was despicable and manipulative. We will no longer waste one more moment or thought on him. He does not exist any longer.”
I nod and I want him to be right, but will he ever forget what Gregori did to me? Will I ever forget? Probably not. It is like the women Maxim had been with after he left me, forever in the back of our minds but never spoken of again.
All thoughts of Gregori, Ivan, whorehouses, and Bratva disappear as soon as Maxim begins to lift my shirt over my head, slowly unclipping my bra before dragging it down my arms. His lips are a smooth caress as he kisses down my neck, my collar, pausing only to taste my skin with his tongue and then swirling it around my breast, avoiding my aching nipple.
“Please,” I whisper thrusting my chest toward Maxim’s face, begging him to ease my ache. Maxim’s fingers dig into my thigh, sending a rushing need throughout my entire body.
“I love when you beg, angel moy. How do you want my cock?”
I whimper and shiver at his words; he is giving me an option, something rare when it comes to him.
“Any way you want to give it to me, baby,” I murmur. It is his turn to shiver before he moves. He strips me of my clothes and removes his own before he twirls his finger, indicating that he wants me to roll over to my knees.
I get on all fours preparing for him. I do love it like this. I love it any way he gives it to me because my Maxim always, always, makes everything feel deliciously good. Maxim wraps his arm around my breasts and pulls me up on my knees while one of his hands slides through my wet core, his mouth kissing the back of my neck.
“I make love like this to my beautiful wife,” he whispers before sliding deep inside of me from behind. I cry out at the feel of him inside of me and his legs against the backs of my thighs.
“Maxim,” I moan as he plucks one of my nipples with his fingers.
“Sshh, Haleigh, just feel your man filling you, fucking you—loving you,” he groans quietly. My body melts into his at his words, those sweet, sweet words.
Maxim’s fingers slowly play with my clit while he pushes in and pulls out of my body even slower with his cock. I am completely helpless, useless, and boneless as I lie back against his strong chest, accepting him inside of me. He wraps his teeth around my earlobe and tugs, bringing me back to the moment with the jolt of slight pain.
I feel my body bending slightly before his fingers swirl around my clit a bit faster and he begins to thrust inside me just a bit harder. I cry out in pleasure as I feel my body beginning to peak toward my release.
“Come,” he barks as he tugs harshly on my nipple. I scream with my release. My whole body going still in his arms. Maxim thrusts inside me three more times before he pushes in deep and I feel his cock go even harder and then twitch with his release filling my body.
“I love you,” he whispers, kissing down my spine and gently laying me on my side.
“I love you too, Maxim.” I sigh before sleep takes over.
TWO WEEKS LATER, THERE is a knock on my door. I struggle to get up, my belly becoming increasingly larger and more uncomfortable as the days go by. Maksimilyan is sitting on the floor, quietly playing with blocks, so I go to the door and peep through to see none other than Sophia and Pasha standing on my doorstep. I throw the door open and launch myself into Sonia’s arms. I have missed my friend these past months.
“Beautiful girl,” she whispers. Once I stop hugging and crying, I let them inside.
“Why didn’t you tell me you were coming?” I ask as Pasha bends down to scoop Max up in his arms.
“Last-minute business trip. No time to call, but you are our first visit,” he says, smiling at Maksimilyan. I nod in understanding.
“Does Maxim know you’re here?” I ask.
Pasha winks just as the door opens, and I s
pin around to see Maxim strolling through, wearing his beautiful dark blue, silk suit. It is my favorite suit—the fit, the color—it all works for him and makes me feel like a big, fat cow standing next to him.
“I do, angel moy,” he whispers. He kisses me on the cheek before pulling Sonia in for a hug and then Pasha, also leaning down to place a soft kiss on Maksimilyan’s head.
Sonia, Max, and I rush into the kitchen to prepare dinner while the men talk about whatever business they need to discuss. Sonia rests her hand on my belly and smiles.
“She will be so very lovely,” she whispers with tears in her eyes. I nod, unable to speak.
I have missed my friend, but we have talked weekly, so she knows everything that has been happening around here the past few weeks. All of the stress and all of the chaos.
“I knew. I knew this life of yours would be perfect. You make him happy, and in turn, he makes you happy, sweet girl,” she says. I nod unable to hold my own tears back.
“How is Mariya? I have not spoken to her in a few weeks,” I ask, making conversation.
Sonia’s eyes widen, her mouth gapes open, and she is about to speak when Maxim comes into the room.
“Mariya is not well, angel moy. She has been taken.” He is so cold and so matter-of-fact; I just stand there with a wooden spoon in my hand, speechless.
“Maxim,” I whisper. He shakes his head.
“I trusted Dimitri when he said he could get her back in just a few days, but he hasn’t been able to find her. That is why Pasha is here. We think she may have been brought back here to Moscow.”
I shake my head, unable to comprehend exactly what is happening. Why was she taken?
“But I don’t understand,” I say, my voice soft and my brain so muddled and confused.
“Security was not as tight as it had been because Ivan was her major threat or so we thought. We considered an enemy of Dimitri’s, since she is living in the house with him, but to be honest, we have no clue who has her. It has been a week and we have received no demands, nothing. It is as if she has just disappeared,” Maxim says, pinching the bridge of his nose as his eyes close tightly.
I sit down in a chair, my whole body trembling with fear for my very sweet sister-in-law. She has flourished these months living with Dimitri. She has even expressed and hinted at true feelings for him, and I couldn’t have been happier for them. She is in school, learning how to become a teacher, and she seems so very happy.
“Ivan was her uncle,” I point out, looking up to Maxim. He looks at me with disgust shining in his eyes. I know the truth now, the man who used beautiful Mariya was her own uncle. It makes me ill. “You guys really have no clue?” I ask in awe. Maxim’s hard face softens, and he kneels down and places his hands on my thighs.
“Do not worry much, angel moy. Mariya is very strong and we will find her.” His words are strong and full of conviction, but they do not convince me, especially when doubt is shining in his eyes.
“I just received a file from Dimitri, it is a video. We watch together,” Pasha exclaims, running into the kitchen. We all huddle around the phone as he presses play on the video file.
Mariya’s image fills the screen, her hair is dirty and stringy, her face is caked with mud, dirt, bruises, and dried blood, and her lips are cracked and split. I try to hold back my loud sobs, but I cannot control my body from shaking and the tears that stream down my cheeks.
“Do-do n-n-not l-oo-ook for me, Dimitri.” Her voice is harsh, like she is dehydrated, and I can see her eyes are red, as if she has been crying—or is crying, but no tears fall down her face.
“I w-will n-n-not be f-fou-nd i-if y-you t-t-ry to c-c-come for m-me. I-I am w-w-whore a-ag-ain n-now,” she says softly. I watch as her lips tremble before someone kicks her leg.
“Do n-not t-tell Ma-Ma- Maxim o-or H-H-Ha-leigh w-will be n-next,” she says. Then the screen goes blank, and we all just stare at it in silence until it begins to ring. It is Dimitri, and Pasha accepts the call, placing him on speaker phone.
“Dmitri, I am here with Maxim and the girls,” he announces.
“I must find her. We must find her. She cannot be whore again,” Dimitri croaks, and I know he is crying. I can hear it through the phone as he moans softly, mourning the loss of who I assume is his lover and friend, my sister-in-law and Maxim’s sister.
“We will find her, Dimitri. I have connections here in Moscow,” Maxim says, his voice lethal and his tone no-nonsense.
“I fly out in one hour. I see you soon, my friend,” Dimitri calls out. Maxim stops him from hanging up.
“You are not my friend, you are my brother, Dimitiri, and we will find her. I called my Pakhan and my Sovietnik and they are on their way. My Pakhan has also called Yakov who may be able to help us,” Maxim offers.
Pasha is nodding his head, but the whole situation has gone above mine; I don’t know what Radimir and Yakov can do to help. He has been trying to play the grieving son for the public while taking over his father’s business. In private, he is the one who killed his own father, a hitman for the Bratva, and extremely, frighteningly handsome.
“I thought Yakov was in the states?” Pasha asks. I wrinkle my forehead with confusion.
“He was. He brought her back with him. She has proven to be extremely difficult,” Maxim clucks and they both chuckle at his joke, whatever that is. The whole conversation goes right over my head, and I decide to just ignore them.
The four of us and Maks eat dinner, but it is tasteless and sad. Our hearts are not into the conversation because one of us, Maryia, is gone, and the hell she is living in is completely unimaginable. How can this poor woman survive being used and abused again? Will she have a mental breakdown and forever be changed? There are so many questions, and I don’t want to know the answers. I just want her back, safe and with Dimitri. We all quietly go to bed, preparing to start another day, to worry another day about Maryia.
“You are thinking so loudly, angel moy, my head aches,” Maxim groans. I roll to the side to face him, my belly pressing against his firm stomach.
“How can she survive this?” I ask, the question that has been rolling around in my head over and over again.
“Because, Haleigh, she is a strong woman, a good woman, and she will dust herself off and survive as she always has.”
I sigh and cup his cheek, my thumb running along his cheekbone.
“How did you survive, my beautiful Maxim?” I ask softly. A shiver runs through him. We have ignored this topic since he told me weeks ago.
“I survived. I dusted myself off, and I got revenge,” he admits. I just look at him, urging him to continue. He sighs, knowing I want more from him. “The boys who … did those things to me …” He pauses, inhaling and exhaling deeply, looking as if he is in so much unbearable pain.
“When I finally worked up the ranks in the Bratva, I found them. I made them watch as I cut off each one of their cocks and balls, and then I raped them with a knife and shot them in the head,” he admits his eyes closed. He is hiding from me, and I lean in to kiss his full turned down lips.
“Haleigh.” He looks at me questioningly, worried and afraid I won’t love him for getting back at the boys who hurt him.
“You are strong, so very strong, Maxim. I love you so much,” I whisper. Just like that, we don’t discuss the situation again. I want to say more to him, to comfort him, but he is still so destroyed by his horrific past that talking about it would probably upset him more at this point. I will be here for him when he’s ready.
If he is ever ready.
It is a situation and a story that will never be forgotten, but it isn’t one we need to rehash constantly. Maxim was abused, he survived, and he got revenge.
Do I think that the revenge healed him completely? Absolutely not.
Do I think it helped him feel stronger, more powerful? Absolutely.
We fall asleep wrapped in each other’s arms, and I know no matter what hell we have been through, it has all been worth
it because we have found each other. Our love has made us better people and made our hearts whole.
Dimitri bounds into the apartment the next morning, and I can’t help myself; I run to him and wrap him in my arms. He was my best friend for so long, and he helped me so much. I cannot imagine the pain he is feeling at the moment.
“Dimitri,” I whisper. His body begins to shiver and shake.
“She is gone. I cannot find her, and she is just gone.” His words are hoarse, and his arms tighten around me.
“I find her, brother,” Maxim says from behind me. Dimitri and I break our embrace.
We all three walk into the living room where Sergei, Alex, Yakov, Radimir, and Pasha are sitting on our sofas and chairs, along with a familiar looking blonde girl. They have information for Dimitri; they are ready to find our Maryia, bring her home, where she belongs, and keep her there.
Six Months Later
I ROCK MY SWEET baby girl, my Maryia, in my arms. Her bedroom of three light pink walls and one shimmering gold wall surrounds me. I look to the right and smile at the black and white photograph of Maryia Lasovska, the original Maryia in our lives. Dimitri took the photo as she laid out in the sweet sunshine by my favorite lake at our home in New York. She was so happy there, and the pure joy shone deeply in her eyes, erasing the horror that once filled them.
Maxim, Dimitri, Yakov and Radimir found Maryia, but it was too late. We were able to give her a lovely funeral, and shortly after, I gave birth to Maxim’s and my sweet girl. We named her Maryia, as no other name would do. She will forever be our girl’s guardian angel, and I know she is smiling down from heaven on her. It took Maxim and me a long time to come to terms with the fact that Maryia was taken from us too soon, but eventually, we decided she was now at peace. No more pain and no more suffering.
Owned by the Badman (Russian Bratva #1) Page 22
