Dancing for the Badman (Russian Bratva Book 3) (13 page)

“Maybe he can,” he shrugs. “Maybe he doesn’t want to, though. Maybe he wants you to stand up to him.”

I snort at his words.

“I have already learned what happens to me when I stand up to Kirill Baryshev,” I humorlessly laugh.

“And what’s that?”

“He backhands me; then he fucks me and reminds me that he’ll take my daughter from me,” I say.

The words sound so harsh, so cruel, but they’re true, and that is the harshest reality I have ever known.

“He wouldn’t hit unprovoked. I have never known him to beat a woman just because,” Ziven justifies. I want to laugh.

“You’re right. I slapped him after he informed me that he would be choosing my daughter’s spouse when she was old enough.”

“This is normal for our culture,” Ziven shrugs.

“It’s fucked up and it pisses me off,” I inform him. He starts to laugh.

“You are not what I expected, Tatyana,” he murmurs.

I turn to finally face him with a questioning look.

“When he told me he had found the long-lost mother of his child, and that she was coming home with him, I thought you would be some weak girl. He always described you as such. But I don’t think that you are. You’re stronger than people give you credit for, Tatyana Orlova,” he says before he pushes off of the glass and walks away, leaving me to stare after him. Sabina leaves a few moments later as well, and I am alone with Kiska.

“I’m confused, mom,” she says after everybody has left the room.

“Yes, Kiska girl, what is it?”

“Sabina, she said she was papa’s girlfriend. I thought you and papa were together and that you were going to be married,” she mutters. It breaks my heart.

That skinny bitch
.

“Don’t concern yourself with her. She works for your papa, nothing more,” I murmur before I switch topics and ask her if she is hungry.

Together we walk into the kitchen and start to look for something to make for dinner. After a complete investigation of Kirill’s kitchen, we both decide that there is absolutely nothing to make. I go in search of Ziven to either take us grocery shopping or order takeout.

Kiska informs me that she’ll be finishing her book in her room, since the couple is finally going on their first date. I make a mental note to check the books that Kirill added to her device for content.

I call out Ziven’s name a few times but cannot find him. That is, until I see a puff of smoke come up from a chair overlooking the pool and the city outside. I find the sliding glass door and join him, sitting on the lounger next to his.

“You found me,” he states.

“Kiska is hungry. I went to make her something to eat, but the cabinets are bare. I was wondering if you could take me to the grocery store, or maybe order some takeout? Either is fine,” I say. He nods.

“Does the
printsessa
like pizza?” he asks with a raised brow.

I smile and nod before I tell him our order. Once he finishes ordering from his cell phone, he snubs out his cigarette and sighs.

“You are a very beautiful woman, Tatyana; you know this right?” he asks.

“No, but continue,” I grin, shaking my head as I look out at the twinkling lights of the city. They are lovely too, just as I predicted them to be.

“I want to believe that Kirill knows what he’s doing, that all of this is for a reason, his threats and his promises and all that shit. But when I look at you and that girl together, when I see how much you love her and how fucking sad you are, I wonder if this is what is right,” he murmurs.

“Sad? I have this beautiful house to live in and I’m getting a whole new wardrobe, how can I be sad?” I ask, feigning a cheery attitude.

“Don’t bullshit me,” he chuckles.

“I think it all happened so quickly. I gave up my job and my apartment and my entire life and left with him because he threatened to take Kiska away. I panicked and I didn’t think anything through. And my guilt,
my god, my guilt
,” I whisper unsure of why I’m telling a complete stranger all of this. Maybe I just want someone to talk to, anyone.

“Sabina is a bitch and Kirill knows that. I don’t believe for one minute she’s ever climbing back into his bed now that you’re here. You take care of yourself, yeah?” he says as he stands and bends down to kiss my forehead.

“What the fuck is going on here?” Kirill’s deep voice rumbles.

“Just leaving, boss,” Ziven murmurs.

“Stay where you are,” Kirill says pointing to me before he walks out with Ziven following.

I exhale a sigh and continue to stare out at the city. The warm feel of Ziven’s soft lips linger on my forehead and it makes me blush slightly. He’s not my type, but in his own way, he is sweet. He makes me feel less lonely. Even if I only see him on occasion, at least I will have him to talk to in a crowd. He’s calm and nice, something I haven’t had a lot of in my life.

I walk outside to Ziven’s car quickly. I try to calm my ass down before I pull out my gun and just shoot him in the head. His lips were on Tatyana—my Tatyana.
Fuck. No.

“What is your problem, then?” Ziven murmurs as he walks up behind me.

“What was that?” I demand.

“What was what?” he smirks. I want to punch him in the face until he bleeds, just for being a fucking smartass.

“You and Tati,” I grind out.

“She’s sad. You sent your bitch of a whore over here and I could tell it upset her. I was just being friendly. She has nobody,” he points out. Though he’s right, it still pisses me off.

“Don’t be friendly with what’s mine,” I grunt.

“She know she’s yours?” he asks as he takes a cigarette out of his pocket.

“She knows,” I nod as I watch him light his smoke.

“Does she
want
to be yours?”

I don’t know what he’s getting at, but I wish he wouldn’t beat around the bush. It’s really starting to piss me off even more. I’m so fucking irritable and irrational.

“It doesn’t matter,” I say, taking a step back from him.

“You cannot force women to do anything, Kirill. You might have her holed up in a corner and she’ll oblige you, but she’ll never be yours if this is the way you plan on keeping her, by threatening her.”

“She was given to me when she was eight-years old. She has no choice in the matter. The contract was signed. I could give a fuck how she
feels
,” I lie.

I lie to him and I lie to myself.

I care how Tati feels.

Part of me will always love her. She isn’t somebody that I have loved, she’s somebody I love—always. I just don’t know how to ever trust her again. I probably never will. And
fuck
, my anger—I’m afraid it will never leave me.

If I can’t let my anger with Tatyana go, there will never be more than a physical relationship between us. She’ll always hate me and I will always be indifferent to that hate. She’ll be miserable and I just won’t give a fuck.

“I was
what
?” Tati asks from behind me. I turn around.

She’s standing behind me and her face, fuck, it’s so damn pale. She looks sick. Ziven claps my shoulder murmuring an apology before he leaves us.
Bastard
. Now I’m standing in front of a very upset looking Tatyana. She looks beyond upset.

“You’ll know eventually. Your father and my father drafted contracts when you were eight and I was fourteen. We were betrothed,” I say.

I watch her, carefully taking in her confusion, which morphs into surprise. When she finally seeps into the feeling of betrayal, it’s apparent on her features—so apparent that I feel it in my gut.

“All this time, all those years ago, you knew?” she whispers.

“I did. I have known since I was fourteen. I agreed to the match,” I admit. Her brows furrow.

“You know my father, then?”

“I do,” I nod.

“You never loved me,” she breathes.

“Tati…” I reach out for her, but she turns and runs back into the house.

I take one step toward her, but the pizza delivery car is driving up, and I stop in my tracks. I wait for him to get out and hand me the boxes of grease. I pay him and tip him generously before sending him away.
I hate pizza
. Ziven knows this, yet this is what he ordered for dinner.
The asshole
.

I walk inside, but the house is silent as I set the boxes on the counter in the kitchen. I make my way to Kiska and knock on her opened door. She’s lying on top of her bed reading. She looks so much like a darker haired version of her mother, it makes me smile.

“Pizza is here,” I announce. She bounds up and rushes past me on the way to the kitchen.

I walk through the kitchen to the other side of the house where my bedroom is, looking for Tati. My bedroom door is locked and I knock before waiting for her answer.

“Yes?” she asks. I can hear that she’s been crying just based off of her voice alone.

“Your pizza has arrived, come and eat,” I murmur, trying not to be loud.

“No, thank you. I’m not hungry,” she says.

I don’t push
her
.

I don’t push
it
.

She’s hurting and it will take more than a few moments for her to move past the news she’s just heard.

Later tonight, she’s going to have to get over it. I’m not going to let her stew and put even more shit between us. It’s better this way. This needed to come out eventually. Now that it has, she can move on and get over it.

A
CONTRACT.

Kirill has never loved me.

My whole adult life has been nothing but a lie.

I can’t stop the tears that stream down my cheeks at this discovery.

I unlock the bedroom door after I stand up from the floor. I am hurt, but not for the woman I am now. No, I’m hurt for the girl that was so head over heels in love with a man that was only with her out of some kind of obligation. A deal he made as a fourteen-year-old boy to gain some kind of power; he didn’t know me, he didn’t know anything about me.

I deicide to take a hot shower in hopes that I will feel better, and at least be able to sleep later. The hot water washes over my skin, and I ignore the way the water stings as it touches my body. I shave my legs and wash my hair, both with Kirill’s razor and shampoos. By the time I’m finished, I smell like him.

Apparently, torture is exactly what I’m into, because I feel like I’m in pain every time I breathe. Then I finish it off by slipping on a black button up shirt of his. I don’t know where my bags are, so I’m improvising until I can have them brought to me.

I step out of the bathroom and pause at the sight of Kirill. He’s looking out one of the floor to ceiling windows and turns to face me when he hears me gasp at his presence.

“We should talk,” he announces.

“No, thank you,” I say as I walk toward the bed.

I just want to sleep. I want to forget this day ever happened. Maybe tomorrow I’ll feel better about what I’ve learned. I doubt it, but maybe.

“I wasn’t really giving you a choice,” he grinds out.

I can tell he’s upset, but I don’t care. He doesn’t have the right to be angry with me, not about this.

“Talk then.” I wave my hand out as I slide between his soft sheets.

“The contract was many years ago, Tatyana. I didn’t know anything about you. I only knew you were eight years old and my papa told me it was a smart move for my future,” he explains.