Expose' (Born Bratva Book 3) (7 page)

Logan

I’m exhausted by the time we’re ushered into the Glazov mansion to prepare for tonight’s event…soiree…reception? Hell, maybe I should think of it as a ball since I feel like I’m just waiting for my fairy godmother to show up. I’m reeling from an afternoon of Bratva power shopping, the trunk of the car loaded down with finery that I’d never be in the same room with otherwise. As tired and overwhelmed as I am, my veins are buzzing with enough adrenaline to keep me energized and alert for hours – and, based on Kodiak’s dressing room warning, that’s a good thing. I’m looking forward to a glass of champagne to take the edge off—make that a few glasses of champagne.

As crazy as it is, – and, yeah, it so is -- I’m glad I’ll have Kodiak’s intimidating presence as my constant companion tonight. This is one time I don’t want to be alone. No one will be crazy enough to start shit with me while I’m on his arm—no one is
that
bold, not even that bitch, Becky. If I’m going to be thrown into the shark tank, at least I’ll have the protection of one of the most feared men in the organization.

My mind is spinning as I sit in the salon chair getting my makeup and hair done by Mrs. Glazov’s personal stylist, Svetlana. Who does this -- has a full service salon in their home? The Glazovs, that’s who. Me? Every dime I have goes toward school. I don’t eat out, I don’t party, I don’t spend money on anything but school. I refuse to end up like my parents. Education is my only way out, and this writing competition is going to help me get closer to my goal of a college degree. I just never expected to feel so conflicted about the article I’m writing. I never back away from a decision once it’s made, but now I’m tossing around the idea of not writing the expose’. I’m not an indecisive person usually, but there is a lot at stake here, a lot to think about.

Kodiak seems to trust me. Little does he know that his plan to keep an eye on me is giving me the perfect opportunity to write an authentic “day in the life” article about the Russian mafia. I’m using him and it’s wrong – and dangerous. A lot of people wouldn’t have a problem with using someone to further their career, but it bothers me. This would be a hell of a lot easier if we hadn’t had that heart-to-heart in the dressing room.

“My, my, my, but you are stunning,” the woman working on me says warmly. “You’re going to be the envy of a roomful of women who have had their eyes on that man for a long, long time. Every unattached woman here tonight – and more than a few of the married ones,” she says with a giggle, “would give anything to be on his arm. Though I do doubt their motives most of the time.”

“What do you mean?” I know what she means but I want details. Chalk it up to the investigative journalist in me.

“You know, using him to get into the Bratva inner circle. Sometimes for the money, sometimes just for the prestige.” She chuckles as she meets my eyes in the mirror, “Bragging rights, I suppose.”

Another wave of guilt washes over me and I avert my eyes.
I’m a terrible, awful person.
This is really beginning to weigh on me. Hell, I’m the girl who’s always rooting for the underdog, that’s why I took Gilbert under my wing. How the hell did I go from plotting to infiltrate this ruthless family to feeling guilty about it?

I brush off her statement with a chuckle. I need to know what I’m in for tonight, so I throw out a little bait just to see if she’ll bite. “Well, let’s hope I get through the evening without a cat fight between
Becky and me.”

“Oh, yes, she’s the worst one. She’s had her eye on Kodiak for years now.”

Might as well go for broke, so I take a deep breath and ask, “Has he slept with her?”

“I doubt it, really. He doesn’t shit where he eats. At least that’s what I’ve heard.”

That does make me laugh. “Then I guess I’m safe.”

She tilts her head to the side and eyes me pensively in the mirror. “Hmm…My dear, I think you’re anything but safe. I saw the way he looked at you when he introduced us when you arrived. Rules are made to be broken and if there’s ever been an exception to his rule…it’s you.”

Kodiak

“There will be no cat fights tonight.” Both women look at me in the mirror with wide eyes, obviously surprised to see me and to realize that I’ve been listening.

I marvel at what women will reveal to their hairdresser. My father hasn’t just taught me about the ins and outs of Bratva, he’s taught me about women. Things like knowing how to read them, how to tell if they’re lying. These are things a man needs to know in my world. Our women play an important and often non-traditional role in our lifestyle. Though there are some things my father is old school about, women and their role in Bratva business aren’t in that category. My sister is every bit as involved in the business as I am and she is a force to be reckoned with. Even Natasha, the woman my older brother has been enamored with from childhood, is Bratva; she’s our cleaner, and I don’t mean housekeeping. Her years of forensic science studies have come in handy more than once. She cleans up our bloody messes, eliminating all evidence of our more unsavory activities. Loose lips to a “civilian” hairdresser would be a problem; loose lips with a Bratva personal services employee like Svetlana is just another source of information.
No, I haven’t slept with Becky, baby.

I saunter over to Logan and lift her chin with a finger, coldly assessing the results of her time with Svetlana. I meet Svetlana’s eyes and nod in approval and gratitude. Yes, I am pleased. “Come with me,” I say to Logan as I turn and walk to the door. When I look back over my shoulder and see the beautician wink at her, I know my claim on Logan will be a topic of speculation long before we enter the ballroom tonight.

In Bratva, the women you fuck and the woman you marry are two very different things. We will pass the time screwing sexy bombshells and think nothing of sending them on to a friend or associate when we’re done; this is nothing new. But Logan is not my usual type, and I won’t be sharing her. She’s obstinate and mouthy, slim and athletic, and,
fuck me
, but those sweet little tits are real.

In my world, actions speak louder than words. Having her on my arm in public will make it clear she’s off limits. No man who wants to stay alive will attempt to talk to her, much less fuck her. I’m not in the habit of bringing women to Bratva events; in fact, this is the first time. I can only hope my father will show mercy to this woman who is etching herself into me at the deepest level. She has no way of knowing she has become my obsession. But I have no doubt Glazov will see the truth at a glance.

I’ve always admired what my mother and father have—magic, pure and simple. Their marriage is unconventional, based on a visceral, intense bond that seems almost mystical; but it is, nonetheless, a real and profoundly deep connection they share. As for me, I’ve never considered claiming a woman for myself. Until now.

Logan follows me down the hall to my bedroom and I gesture for her to precede me into the room. As I close the door, she takes in the details of the room’s décor, no doubt looking for personal touches that will give her some insight into my psyche. The investigative journalist in her is trying to get a read on me. Her arms are folded over her chest and her back is ramrod straight.
Hmm, she’s closed off, guarded, but that’s okay. I’ll enjoy breaking through that cool façade and generating some real heat soon enough.

I walk toward the mirror as if I’m not tracking her every move. I pick up my bow tie and lift my chin as I smoothly move through the steps my father taught me. After a final tug to straighten it, I add a set of onyx cufflinks that finish off the formal look that is expected for tonight’s gathering.

“That looks like the screen that was in the dressing room earlier,” Logan says in a puzzled tone.

“Yes, I bought one for you, for modesty’s sake,” I say with a small smile. “Now go behind it and slide that gown over that hot ass little body of yours.” I lock eyes with her, chuckling when she blushes. She hurries behind the screen in an effort to escape my gaze. This screen is indeed similar to the one in the boutique, with one important difference. It is made of a thinner, sheer fabric that catches the light and reveals a surprisingly clear outline of Logan’s delicate curves as she undresses and slides the gown over her body. Damn, I like this girl—a lot. I smile to myself as I sit back and enjoy the show.

Logan

I’m grateful for the screen that offers refuge from Kodiak’s penetrating gaze as I slip the gown over my head. The blood red silk slithers to the floor like water. Nothing trashy, just luxurious fabric that clings to my body like a second skin. I have to admit, I look good, even sort of sexy. I have never looked like this before in my life.
And it’ll probably never happen again, so I might as well enjoy myself.

Svetlana has given me a look that isn’t overdone; a soft, beautiful, and yet very sexy look. I laugh as I think to myself how everyone she works on probably wants to sweep her up and hide her away as their own personal miracle worker. I step out and almost bump into Kodiak where he stands just beyond the edge of the screen.

“What’s so funny?” he asks with a scowl.

“I was just thinking that Svetlana probably has a big fan club.”

“You don’t need her for me to find you to be beautiful,” he says as he trails his fingertips down my cheek before briefly cradling my jaw in his hand. “You, Logan, are that rare breed of woman who needs no makeup or artifice to reveal her true glory.”
He means what he’s saying, he really, really means it, wow.
This guy could have any woman he wants and yet he seems to have eyes for only me.
I’m still rolling that thought around in my head when he says smugly, “Your dress is missing one thing.” He walks over to his nightstand and picks something up.

“That must be the one thing you wouldn’t let me see you buy,” I tease him. At one point during our shopping excursion, he had had left Gilbert and me in the car with a bodyguard while he shopped somewhere else. Of course he was accompanied by his bodyguard. I’m glad Lukyan is so protective of Kodiak. If Kodiak’s life is half as dangerous as I think it is, the bodyguard isn’t a luxury; he’s a damned necessity.

He approaches me with a heated look, holding a large, flat, black velvet box. His eyes twinkle and he makes no move to open the box and reveal its contents. He’s enjoying making me wait, damn him.

“Let me see,” I say eagerly, curious in spite of myself. When he finally opens the box, I’m enthralled by what is revealed.

“How did you know, Kodiak?” No one knows what my favorite stone is because no one has ever cared enough to be interested. “I’m serious, how did you know green amber is my favorite stone?” He’s still eyeing me with that poker face of his, giving me no clue as to how he found out. It’s an incredibly thoughtful gesture – and it’s also a psychological control play designed to convey a message: not only is he
guarding
me, but he can find out any inside information about me he wants.

This guy is confusing as hell. I run my fingers over the huge green amber stone that is set in gold and surrounded by yellow diamonds. A fossilized leaf in the middle of the stone makes the piece unique. But this isn’t just about the stone, it’s about Kodiak taking the time to find out what I like. I’m not sure what to make of it; he’s so in control and uber-alpha about just about everything, and then he turns around and does something like this.

“A one of a kind piece for a one of a kind girl,” he murmurs. “It was a choice between a fossilized leaf and a spider.” His lip curves in a cocky smirk as he continues, “I just don’t see you as a black widow,
lyubov moya
.”

“What does that mean?” I ask. He just smiles cryptically, lifts the necklace from the box and hands me the matching earrings. He steps behind me and I pull my hair to the side so he can fasten the necklace. His fingers are warm against my skin. My hands are unsteady as I handle the earrings. His warm breath in my ear sends goosebumps over every exposed inch of my skin. When he’s finished, he presses a kiss to my neck, his hand sliding purposefully down my abdomen to pull me back against his body as he murmurs hotly, “I want you, Logan. So much.” Then he’s licking my neck possessively like a lion claiming its mate, his voice a hoarse rasp against my skin, “You should know that I always get what I want.”

I turn abruptly to face him and try to make him see reason, “But we’re from two different--”

There is no time to utter another word as he crushes me to him and his lips find mine. I gasp in surprise and his tongue slips inside to probe and explore so much more than just my mouth. He’s reaching me with this kiss in a way no one else ever has. Our tongues slide against each other and I melt into him when he wraps his arms around me. He strokes a hand over my hip to cup my bottom, kneading the flesh harshly as he tugs me harder against his hips. I’m grateful for his strong arms supporting me as he plunders my mouth and my knees give out beneath me.

He lifts his head to look down at me through hard, hooded eyes that practically glow with a possessive fire that unnerves me. “Mine,” he mouths silently to me as his hand travels a lazy, silken path up from my hip to firmly clasp my breast. He lowers his gaze to observe his thumb as it traces small circles around my nipple. He seems fascinated and pleased by the immediate effect his touch has on the flesh there.

The cut of the dress doesn’t allow for undergarments so I feel the heat radiating from his hand as if it’s caressing my bare skin. His erection is pressed against my stomach as if the hard length is straining to get at me through the barrier of our clothes. Such primal, raw sexual energy draped in an understated designer tux. This man is a contradiction on so many levels but his touch reaches something as yet undiscovered deep inside me.

I don’t know what’s happening between us, but whatever it is… it’s taking on a life of its own.