Dancing for the Badman (Russian Bratva Book 3) (11 page)

Never fucking again
.

I pull out of her and walk to the bathroom to shower. I can’t smell like her all night long. I’ll go fucking crazy. I leave her in the middle of the bed and I don’t look back at her sated body. I don’t want to know if she’s pissed off at me, disappointed, angry, or happily gratified by my dick.

I don’t want to know a damn thing about how Tati feels.

If I do, then I might fucking care, and I can’t.

Not anymore.

K
IRILL HAS TO BE
the coldest man I have ever had in my bed. Not that there has been a plethora of men in my bed, but still. He’s nothing like I remember him to be. Perhaps I have built him up in my mind over the years and have forgotten the true him.

I roll over slowly so that I don’t wake him and I just look at him. He’s still the most handsome man I have ever laid eyes on, even if he’s a bit rougher looking than he was a decade ago.

“You need to take a picture, Tati, it will last you longer,” his husky voice murmurs.

My eyes widen and I move to get out of bed.

Unfortunately, I’m not fast enough and his arm wraps around my waist and pulls me into his side.

“Kirill,” I whisper.

“Why were you looking at me like that?” he asks as his fingers travel up my spine and tangle in my hair.

“I wasn’t looking at you any way,” I say, avoiding his question. His eyes pop open and I am met with his darkened, gray anger.

“You lie to me,” he rasps.

“It doesn’t matter,” I say, unable to look away from his dark eyes. He has me frozen in place.

“The thing is, Tati, it does matter. You are not to keep one thing from me ever again. You must tell me everything.” His fingers tighten into a fist and wrench my head back. My scalp burns from his roughness and I gasp. “You have lied, and omitted, and run from me for a decade. This will never happen again, Tatyana. I am to know every time you wish to walk out of a room. You have no freedoms; you have no privacy.”

I’m frozen, my scalp screaming in pain; but beyond that, I’m frightened. I know he is hurt, angry and betrayed, but now he’s wanting something completely different from me. I’m not just this object he wants at his disposal. No, now I’m some kind of possession for him. It’s scary as hell.

“I will not be your possession, Kirill. I messed up, I was young. You cannot punish me forever,” I grind out through my clenched jaw.

“That, Tati—that is where you are wrong. You are my possession, and if you want to remain living under the same roof as your daughter, you’ll abide by my rules.”

“What do you desire, master?” I ask, being a complete smartass.

“Cut the shit. Today we leave for Los Angeles,” he grunts before he releases me and climbs out of bed.

I watch him walk into the bathroom and hate myself for enjoying the view so much. He’s suck a prick.

I crawl out of bed and wrap the hotel’s robe around my body before I emerge from the bedroom and into the living area. Kiska is sitting at the table enjoying a hearty breakfast of pancakes, bacon, and orange juice, just as happy as can be.

This is why I put up with him
.

Looking at her, seeing her smile as she cuts her sweet breakfast, seeing her surrounded by the luxurious hotel, all these things I could never give her, even if they are just things. And then there’s the one thing she needs most out of all of this, her father.

I don’t agree with everything he’s said. How he wants to marry her off when she’s older to a man of his choosing. He’s barbaric and archaic, but he already adores her. It’s painfully obvious. I will sacrifice myself for the happiness of my child.

“Morning, mom,” she greets me through her bite of food. I smile as I walk over to her and kiss her forehead.

“You and dad, you slept in the same bed?” she half asks, half announces.

“Yes, Kiska, and we’ll continue to do so. We are leaving for Los Angeles this morning. That is where Kirill lives, and he would like us with him now that he has found us,” I explain before I watch as her mouth drops open.

“So you’re
together
?” she asks in a hushed tone.

“We are.” I try to smile, but I’m afraid it comes off fake as hell. Kiska narrows her eyes for a beat before she goes back to her food.

She then begins to tell me all about the new e-reader that Kirill gave her and how it was already loaded up with hundreds of books. She’s in heaven and I can do nothing but smile for her. By the time she has finished telling me all about her new read, Kirill has walked up to the table to join us.

I stand and excuse myself to get dressed for the trip. Kirill’s hand shoots out and wraps around my wrist. His thumb gently circles my skin before he releases me. It’s a subtle touch, but it confuses me, nonetheless.

Who is this man?

This man who runs scalding hot and ice cold in the matter of minutes?

He makes my head completely spin.

“When did you have time to get Kiska an e-reader?” I ask in confusion.

“I had the concierge do it. Kiska told me her love of reading; though I should have guessed, she
is
your daughter,” he shrugs and I blink away the tears that form.

Such a small detail that used to be such a huge part of my life, and he remembered. Just as I remembered his favorite vodka, he remembered this about me. I can’t help that ache that threatens my chest again. I love this asshole, bastard of a man.

We’re in the car a total of five minutes before Kiska begins to talk excitedly about moving. She’s asking Kirill question after question about the schools, the libraries, the ocean, the beaches, and everything else a nine-year-old girl can think to ask. When she asked him about shopping, I couldn’t contain my giggle.

“I do not shop, Kiska. I don’t know,” he explains.

“How can you not shop? You have to buy
clothes
,” she points out.

I can’t help myself or stop myself from laughing. It is obvious that Kirill’s shopping includes the place he buys his suits from and probably nowhere else.

“My personal assistant purchases everything I need. She is extremely helpful,” he murmurs. My spine straightens and I feel jealously wash over me.

“What’s her name? Is she pretty?” Kiska asks, out of nothing more than pure young-girl curiosity.

“Her name is Sabina and she is very lovely,” he admits.

It makes me nauseous—completely and totally nauseous. I hate her already, but there’s nothing I can do about it. He’s already informed me that my feelings, my wishes,
they don’t fucking matter.
I turn my head to look out the car window before I say something stupid, something out of my place.

The rest of the six-hour car ride is filled with Kiska and Kirill’s voices. I don’t say a word. I am here to be with my daughter and to be a vessel for Kirill’s cock, nothing more.

My heart aches, and at the same time, I just feel plain sick. My life is in complete shambles, yet my daughter has never been happier. I’ll suffer, my heart will suffer because hers is finally full.

“What city do you live in, papa?” Kiska asks once we have entered Los Angeles. The freeways are jam packed with people, and it is obvious that we are in the heart of the city.

“West Hollywood, but my offices are downtown,” he explains.

I still don’t know much about the state of California. In fact, this is my first time to Los Angeles. Everything is new and different, and I take it all in, even if it is only the freeway walls. Kirill takes an exit and it is like we are in another world.

The streets are hilly and the houses are perched on top of the hills, looking over the city. It reminds me a bit of San Francisco in that sense. We pull up to a solid gate and I watch as Kirill enters a number into the keypad and it opens. We drive up a steep hill to a white house. It doesn’t look like much from the outside. It appears as though it was built in the 1960’s, but looks can be deceiving and I have a feeling this house is amazing on the inside.

Wordlessly, I climb out of the car and walk over to the edge of the hill. We’re high up, and I can see the city below. At night, it is going to be a spectacular view with all of the twinkly lights from the buildings and houses below.

Kirill calls out to me and I turn, abandoning the view to make my way inside of my new home.
My new prison.
Once I walk inside, I gasp at the space.

The floors are wood, a honey color, and the walls white and light gray. It is so open feeling. The drop down living room has a large, L shaped, white leather, tufted sofa that sits low to the ground; and there are four huge floor to ceiling windows that show the swimming pool and the cityscape behind it for a view.

I suppose if I have to be in prison, at least the house is nice and the pool is fantastic looking.

Kirill doesn’t give us much time to absorb the room before he starts giving us instructions.

“I have to go into the office and meet with some of my men. Before I leave, my friend Ziven will stay with you until your
Byki
will arrive. Listen to Ziven and do as he says. Also, Sabina, my Personal Assistant, will be by sometime today to get your clothing sizes so that she can have the proper attire sent here. If you wish for anything special, just tell her and she’ll do it for you. Kiska, whatever you want your room to look like, she’ll do that, too. She decorated my home; she is good at many things,” he rambles. All I can think about is that I’m sure she’s good at
everything
, and that I already hate her.

I leave the women of my life in Ziven’s capable hands. I should have waited until I introduced him to them before I left the house. I shouldn’t have been waiting in the car for his arrival, and left immediately after he pulled up.

I should have done a lot of things.

But I did not.

Instead, I left for my office. I sent a message to both Radimir and Maxim to meet me there. We have things to discuss, mainly the
Cartel’s
insider and Agent
fucking
Green. The sooner we get to the bottom of both of those problems, the faster our whole organization will be up and running again.

Once I arrive downtown, I take the elevator to the top of the building. Maxim and Radimir have offices below me, as do the rest of my men. But I have the entire top floor to myself, only sharing it with Sabina. When the elevator car opens, I see Sabina sitting at her desk. Her eyes lift to meet mine and I am greeted with her smile.