Owned by the Badman (Russian Bratva #1)

Owned by the Badman

Copyright © 2016 by Hayley Faiman

All rights reserved. Without limiting the rights under copyright reserved above, no part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in or introduced into retrieval system, or transmitted, in any form, or by any means (electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording, or otherwise) without the prior written permission of both the copyright owner and the above publisher of this book.

This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, brands, media, and incidents are either the products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. The author acknowledges the trademarked status and trademark owners of various products referenced in this work of fiction, which have been used without permission. The publication/use of these trademarks is not authorized, associated with, or sponsored by the trademark owners.

Editor: RC Martin,
Another Pair

Jenny Simms,
Editing4Indies

Cover: Cassy Roop,
Pink Ink Designs

Formatting:
Champagne Formats

Table of Contents

Title Page

Copyright

Dedication

Quote

Russion Bratva Structure

Prologue

Chapter One

Chapter Two

Chapter Three

Chapter Four

Chapter Five

Chapter Six

Chapter Seven

Chapter Eight

Chapter Nine

Chapter Ten

Chapter Eleven

Chapter Twelve

Chapter Thirteen

Chapter Fourteen

Chapter Fifteen

Chapter Sixteen

Chapter Seventeen

Chapter Eighteen

Chapter Nineteen

Chapter Twenty

Chapter Twenty-One

Chapter Twenty-Two

Chapter Twenty-Three

Chapter Twenty-Four

Chapter Twenty-Five

Epilogue

Sneak Peek

Also by Hayley Faiman

About the Author

Acknowledgements

 

 

 

 

To my Mom—

 

Your favorite Russian bad-boy in print.
Enjoy
.

Thank you for always being there for me. Always being a sounding board and thank you for being wonderful in every single way. Thank you for showing me how to be a mother and wife, for giving me the best example ever.

 

 

RUSSIAN BRATVA STRUCTURE

Pakhan
– The Boss: Controls everything.

Sovietnik
– Councilor: Advisor and most close trusted individuals to the Pakhan.

Obshchak
– The Bookmaker: Collects all money from Brigadiers and bribes from the government.

Brigadier
– Authority: Captain in charge of a small group of men.

Boyevik
– Warrior: Soldier, works for a Brigadier.

Kryshas
– Covers: Extremely violent enforcers.

Torpedo
– Contract Killers

Byki
– Bulls: Bodyguards

Shestyorka
– Associate: Errand boys. Lowest rank in the Russian Mafia.

H
ALEIGH WALKED OUT ON
the stage and she could feel the rush of adrenaline hit her like a two-ton sack of bricks. It was heavy, thick, and it almost made her stumble.
If she fell, her life and her career would be over.
She stood, tall and proud, stretching out her body as she began to dance. Ballet—it was the reason she breathed. It had been shoved down her throat since she was just two years old. Ballet—it was all that Haleigh knew
. It was why she was on this earth
. Her purpose was to live out a dream her mother had never fulfilled.

Jacques, her partner, lifted her body high in the air while she arched over his head. Her arms draped down, hanging at his back. She could grab his ass if she chose to, but that would be unbecoming and something she would never,
ever
dream of doing. Tonight, she was Cinderella and Jacques the handsome prince.
He probably wished she were a stable boy instead
. He hated Haleigh and called her a fat cow half of the time.

Haleigh was talented. She was born and bred in the ballet studio; even homeschooled because school itself was merely a distraction to her
craft,
as her mother had put it. At twenty years old, she had never been out on a date, kissed a boy, or even held hands with one. She had no friends, male or female. Haleigh was alone. She felt like a prized animal, only for show, never to live her own life. Her life consisted of practice, conditioning,
practice
, rehearsals, and shows.

When the curtain closed, Jacques practically dropped Haleigh on her ass before leaving her to get a water. Haleigh stood back, away from the dancers, and prepared for the curtain call. She wondered if this was how her life was going to be forever—alone and pitiful.

Smiling and bowing for the audience left her feeling hollow. They appreciated her beautiful technique—
and
it was beautiful
—because that breathtaking technique had been beaten into her. What they didn’t know was how utterly depressing and lonely the rest of her life was.

Changing into her yoga pants and an oversized sweatshirt, Haleigh left the theater. It was drab and drizzling outside and she was alone once again. All of the cast had gone to a party—one she had not been invited to. She looked up to see her driver waiting for her. Torrent would take her home, and he would make sure she was safely inside her building before he left the street. He was the only person who ever smiled at Haleigh. It was a sad, pitiful smile, but it was a smile nonetheless.

“Good evening, Miss Haleigh,” he said softly as she slid into the back of the black sedan.

“Hello, Torrent,” she muttered sadly, resting her head on the back of the seat. The fifteen minutes to her apartment building would be just enough time for her to relax from the adrenaline coursing through her veins from the performance.

“I am sorry, Miss, but I was told that your mother wanted you to meet her in the formal living area as soon as you arrived home this evening.” Haleigh’s eyes popped open in surprise. She didn’t see her parents often, and they never requested to meet with her, unless something was off about a performance or tryout.

Haleigh lived her life for the ballet, and when she wasn’t dancing, she was sleeping until the next rehearsal or performance. Her parents had their own lives, social and business engagements taking up the majority of their time.

“All right,” she said softly, the nervous energy gathering around her.

Once inside the apartment, Haleigh saw spots in her vision. She was on the verge having a panic attack. She willed herself to take deep, calm breaths and, luckily, this worked in her favor. The panic subsided and she braced herself for whatever her parents had for her.

“Haleigh,” said Amelia Stockhardt, her mother, drawing her attention to the beautiful woman in the room. She was sitting perfectly still on a soft sage green chair.

“Mother,” Haleigh said.
It was never mom or mommy—always mother.

“I have decided it is time for you to marry. You are of age and you need to produce some children of worth. I was sure you would not find a suitable match on your own, so I have chosen for you,” Amelia announced. The air in Haleigh’s lungs disappeared, and her knees sagged in surprise.

“I … I don’t understand,” Haleigh whispered.

Her body began to shake, probably from the crash of adrenaline, her lack of calorie consumption, and the shock of what her mother was actually saying to her—or what she seemed to be suggesting.

“I know you aren’t the smartest woman placed on this earth, Haleigh, but I did speak plain English to you, did I not?
You are to be married
. The wedding date is in six months,” she announced. Her mother was not giving her an option. She was telling her, formally
informing
Haleigh of her future.

Haleigh took a deep breath and gulped down the air lodged in her throat.

“What about my career?” she asked. Her life had been her career since the age of two, surely her mother would not want her to throw away all of the money she had spent having Haleigh trained.

“It will be your husband’s decision whether or not you continue your dancing career. Go to bed now. You look terrible. Sunday you will meet your fiancé.” Her mother dismissed her with an arched a brow before Haleigh turned around.

Haleigh left in a daze, slowly walking to her side of the apartment and her bedroom. Confusion filled her head as she thought about her mother’s words. Amelia had lived vicariously through her daughter’s career. To flip so suddenly left an uneasy feeling in her stomach.

Looking around at her room, truly taking it in for probably the first time in her life, she sighed. It wasn’t her. Not in the slightest. The room was cotton candy pink; the ballet prints framed and placed throughout the space made her head spin.
She was an adult woman living in a child’s room
. The reality of that truth bothered her, and for the first time, the space was suffocating. She had never been on her own, and now, she never would be. Her life as she knew it was over. In just six short months, she was to be
given
to some stranger.

The days came and went until it was finally time to meet the mystery man himself. Haleigh’s parents had not told her anything about him. She was nervous, yet excited to meet him. It was odd to feel excitement over meeting a man she would come to know as her husband, but something about the situation intrigued Haleigh. This was not normal in America; nothing about Haleigh’s life had been normal for a child or teenager anyway, so why should her adulthood be any different?

This man, her
fiancé,
was going to change her world. Gone would be the sterile environment of her family’s apartment, and she would be able to create a home of her own. She only hoped the man she was to be given to would be kind, and she wished this first meeting would go well. However, it didn’t matter what she had hoped for. Her
fiancé
was unable to attend brunch as he had an emergency business meeting Monday morning that required him to travel. Haleigh tried to ask her mother just who this man was, but she was tight-lipped, which worried Haleigh.

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