Dancing for the Badman (Russian Bratva Book 3) (15 page)

K
IRILL HAS PLANS.
H
E’S
made them and he’s decided on them without my input or my opinion. I don’t mind him taking the reins and having control over his own household. He was always a man who enjoyed control, this is nothing new. It bothers me that he doesn’t even pretend to care for my opinion, though. Kiska is my child as well; decisions should be agreed upon.

I walk into the kitchen and start to make breakfast for everyone. Kirill doesn’t have much, but he has the makings for eggs and a can of store bought biscuits in his fridge. While I’m cooking, I can’t help my mind from wandering. He didn’t sleep in the bed with me. It makes me feel
sad
, and I hate that. I don’t want to
feel
anything, not when he’s made it painfully obvious that his only feelings toward me are anger and hate.

“Does papa have honey?” Kiska asks sleepily as she walks up to me and wraps her arms around my waist, burying her face in my side.

“I’m sure he does. He loves it on his biscuits as well,” I murmur. “Now, go find some plates for the three of us and set the table.”

I continue to cook the eggs as I try not to think about how much my daughter and her father are alike. They enjoy a lot of the same foods; they even make the same facial expressions. I used to love that, I used to enjoy seeing her take after him in her own way.

Now, having them both here and getting nothing but anger from him, it makes me sad. I hope that one day she doesn’t see that, feel it, and reciprocate. I wouldn’t be able to function if Kiska hated me the way Kirill does.

“Kiska, go get papa, he’s in his office. Tell him breakfast is ready,” I call out.

She skips off to find Kirill while I begin plating our food and pouring orange juice to drink for everyone. I’m surprised it wasn’t out of date. Today I am going to the store. I need actual food in this house.

Kiska walks right past me a few moments later, but her shoulders are slumping and she looks upset. I wrap my hand around her shoulder and turn her slightly to face me.

“What’s the matter?” I ask. Her brows are furrowed and her eyes are watery.

“Nothing,” she lies. I place my hand on my hip and give her my most stern, motherly look.

“Tell me,” I urge.

“You and papa are together, like boyfriend and girlfriend, right?” she asks. It concerns me why she’s so upset and asking me this. I need to get to the bottom of it.

“We are engaged to be married. But what has happened, why are you asking me this?”

“I saw papa kissing that Sabina woman in his office,” she whispers as tears start to fall from her eyes.

I wrap my arms around her and hold her to me. I don’t know what to tell her. My heart aches for her that she saw him with another woman. My heart aches that he is with another woman, and practically in front of me. I don’t know what to say or what to do. So I hold my baby while she cries as the harsh reality of life hits her hard.

“Why would he do that?” she finally asks once she’s composed herself.

“I don’t know. Sometimes things happen,” I whisper.

“If he loves you, mama, he shouldn’t even look at another woman,” she grinds out through a clenched jaw.

I want to laugh. Her sweet romantic books and fairytale movies are all she knows, and I love that for her. I hope that this doesn’t harden her.

“I agree,” I smile and kiss her forehead. “Now let’s eat.”

“You aren’t hurt?” she asks as she takes her plate after wiping the wetness from her cheeks.

I’m livid.

I’m sad for my daughter, and inside I’m devastated for myself.

Kirill made no promises of fidelity to me, but I too was living in my own fairytale. I thought that he would be faithful, that he would eventually push his anger aside and love me again, if he ever did to begin with. Now, after the revelation of last night and this morning, I wonder if he ever did.
Was it all some kind of head game?

“All will be okay, Kiska girl,” I murmur. Then I tell her to eat.

Together, we eat breakfast and I tell her to go and get ready for the day. It has been thirty minutes and Kirill hasn’t come into the kitchen.

I go in search of him, not sure what kind of position I will find him in, or Sabina, for that matter. But this—this is unacceptable. I’ll not have him with his side-whore in the house where my daughter is living. If he thinks I’m going to let that slide, he has another thing coming.

I barge into his office without knocking. Then I stop dead in my tracks. I was prepared to see some slut fucking Kirill, what I wasn’t expecting to see was four pairs of eyes focused on me, and those eyes are attached to four big ass, sexy Russians. Kirill and Ziven I know; the other two men are strangers.

“Can I help you, Tatyana?” Kirill asks coolly. His eyes are dark and narrowed, showing his anger.

“When you are finished with your meeting, I would like to talk to you,” I say softly trying to keep my shaky voice even.

The men in this room are intimidating, but the apparent anger in Kirill’s eyes is downright terrifying.

“These are my closest men, you can say whatever it is with them here,” he says challengingly.

This is some kind of test, but I’m not prepared enough to know what it means or how I’m supposed to react.

“It’s personal, Kirill,” I urge. He just stares at me.

“This is your new family, Tati. Just say what you need to say so we can all move on with our day,” he barks harshly.

“
Kiska saw you with your whore. If you would kindly not fuck other women in the house where your daughter resides, that would be fantastic
,” I shout before I gasp.

I quickly take a few steps backward and run into the wall. Kirill stands from his desk and walks up to me quickly. I turn my head and close my eyes, waiting for the blow I’m sure is to be delivered.

“Kirill,” a man’s deep accented voice calls out.

Though I can feel Kirill’s breath on me, I can tell he’s frozen in place, right in front of me.

“Go, I’ll deal with youhas said her later,” he says, his tone hard and not to be defied.

I open my eyes but keep them focused on the ground before I slip out of the room and run toward the bedroom.

My heart is racing as I look around and see hundreds of shopping bags littering the floor around me.

Seconds later, the bedroom door opens and I gasp as I turn around, but it’s Kiska and she’s in a swimming suit with a huge smile on her face.

The suit is cute, a one-piece with little cutouts on the side, all dark turquoise and very age appropriate.

“Let’s swim, mama,” she suggests as if she hadn’t had a breakdown less than an hour ago.

I am glad she’s bounced back and isn’t letting her father’s behavior ruin her mood. I nod, my hands still shaky from the encounter with Kirill, but I decide to join my girl. I quickly find a two-piece bikini and change into it.

It’s blood red and skimpy, too skimpy. The triangles on top barely cover my breasts and the bottoms are straps that meet in a small patch that just covers my pussy; the back is a little better, but half of my ass cheeks still hang out. I spin around and look at the size and narrow my eyes when the tag is marked as an extra-small. That little bitch.

Fuck it
.

I grab my cheap sunglasses and slide them on before taking one of Kirill’s sun screens, and then I join my daughter and together we walk out to the pool. I walk through the house, focused on the pool and nothing else.

The men are somewhere, but I don’t care. I can’t deal with Kirill anymore; I don’t think his little plan is going to work. I think that we may have to live separately.

Perhaps we can come to an agreement of fifty-fifty split custody of Kiska. But what’s happened this morning, it cannot happen again, and I won’t allow my daughter to just watch her father cheat on me so blatantly. I don’t want her to think that this is what makes a normal, healthy relationship.

“You have balls. I didn’t think you did, but yeah,” Ziven points out as he sits on the lounger next to me.

I’m soaking the sun up and watching Kiska splash around the pool. She’s in heaven, and I can’t deny that it’s peaceful out here, away from the drama that is Kirill.

“I used to be stronger,” I admit, not going into detail.

“It’s hard to be dominant when you have a man like one of us at your side. Somebody has to be submissive or it won’t work,” he grunts. I want to laugh. He has no idea.

“You kinky bastard,” I chuckle.

“You have no idea, Tati,” he calls out as I stand and begin to walk toward the water’s edge.

I hear the sliding glass door open and then close, but I don’t turn around. I assume it’s Ziven going back inside.

“That is not a swim suit, and it’s two sizes too small,” Kirill informs me.

I turn to face him and see that he is not as angry as he was earlier. My eyes flick to where Ziven sat just seconds ago, but the chair is empty.

“I’m going inside, mama,” Kiska calls out as she wraps a towel around her body. We’ve been out here for an hour, and she’s probably hot and maybe even hungry.

“I’ll be in soon to get you some lunch,” I say, never taking my eyes off of Kirill’s heated gaze.

“Ziven brought some sandwiches until we get to the store this afternoon, go help yourself,” Kirill murmurs. Kiska thanks him coolly before she leaves.

“She hates me,” he mutters.

“She’s hurt and confused, but she doesn’t hate you, Kirill,” I whisper.

“You hate me,” he states.

I couldn’t hate him. Not even if I tried.
I don’t trust him
. I’m angry with him, and he’s hurt me, but I couldn’t hate him.

I love him too much, as foolish as it is.

I shouldn’t love him; he’s lied to me, he’s hit me, and he’s threatened me. But for whatever reason, love trumps it all and I hate myself for the weakness I have against him. So no, I don’t hate him—I hate
me
.

“I don’t,” I say, not going into detail. I don’t want to and I don’t need to.

“You should,” he says. His short sentences are irritating me.

“We need to have a serious conversation,” I mutter, not wanting to look him in the eyes.

I’ll get captivated by them, I’ll melt and I’ll succumb to my heart instead of focusing on where my head is at.

“I did not fuck her, Tatyana,” he informs me as he wraps his hand around my waist and tugs me into him.

I stumble and place my hands on his chest for stability. Kirill’s hands slide down to my ass and he squeezes my bare flesh before his lips gently brush against mine. Then his lips go to my ear. He nips my lobe before he speaks.

“You’re not leaving me, Tati. I know you’re thinking about it, but you aren’t. I didn’t fuck her, she kissed me. That was it. I sent her away. I’ll talk to Kiska and explain. I would never fuck another woman in the home we share,” he whispers against my ear.

I want to melt even more into him, but his last words make my spine straight and I push away from him.

“So you’ll be fucking them elsewhere then? Just not our shared home?” I ask, narrowing my eyes on him.

“I have not promised fidelity, Tatyana.” He points out what I already know.

“You need to decide what you want, Kirill. If you want me as your wife, you’ll have to forgive me and you’ll have to be faithful to me. I can’t live like this; I can’t live with your anger. It’s like a living, breathing thing. It takes up space in that house. I also can’t live knowing you’re inside of another woman, just because you can be. That’s not marriage. Regardless of this contract, I do not owe you anything. I do not have to marry you. I can earn my own money and live on my own. I don’t need you,” I grind out, babbling as I dig my nails into my palm.

I watch as Kirill’s eyes darken and he shakes his head once before he’s on me again. His lips consume mine, he sucks my bottom lip between his teeth and nibbles on the soft flesh as his hands cup my cheeks.

I wrap my own hands around his wrists and hold on, letting my eyes slide closed and my back arch closer to him. My body feels like it’s on fire and he isn’t touching any piece of me except for my face. Then, he wrenches his lips away and presses his forehead to mine.

“I want you, Tati. I don’t want you to leave me, not ever. I don’t know if I can be good to you anymore. I’m not the good man I was when we were younger. I don’t know what I can promise you, and I don’t want to break any vows and hurt you. But I want you,” he murmurs. It breaks my heart.

I want all of him—the good, the bad, and the ugly.

But is it worth the hurt I know he will cause me? I slide my hands up his forearms and then bury them in the hair at the nape of his neck.

“I don’t want you to promise me perfection, Kirill. I’m far from perfect and I’m far from the girl you knew all those years ago. We need to discover the people we are now. We’ve grown and changed, and that’s okay. We can’t pretend to be the eighteen and twenty-four year olds we once were. I want to know the thirty-four-year-old Kirill Baryshev and I want you to know the twenty-nine-year-old stripper named Tatyana Orlova who is the mother of a wonderful nine-year-old named Kiska.”