Seducing the Badman (Russian Bratva #2) (4 page)

“I need you to protect my sister, Emiliya,” he practically pleaded.

I nodded.

“Of course, I protect your sister. Whatever you need of me, brother, I will do,” I said.

Yakov was an independent, but still part of the brotherhood. He had been hiding this part of himself from his father for years, keeping himself on both sides—keeping himself useful. Yakov shook his head, a grim look on his face.

“I need you to take her as your own, Radimir. Your woman. Does this make me an asshole? Am I my father? He has a contract with a man for her marriage,” he rambled, shaking his head in disgust.

I just looked at him. He wanted me to take his sister—
take
her.

“It doesn’t make you him, Yakov, and you know it. But why me?” I asked in surprise. He could have found a much better, much
nicer
man for her than me.

Yakov just shook his head, like the question was silly.

“You will be good to her. I saw what Klavdia did to you, how she behaved, yet you treated her like a queen. Even when you sold her, you made sure it was to a good man who would treat her right. My sister, she is pure, she is good, and she will treat you right, Radimir. If you are kind to her and gentle with her, she will give you everything you desire in life. I know, in return, you will give her what she desires. She will hate me for a while for this, but I must see to her safety and her happiness when all of this goes down.”

“I will do as you ask, my friend. I will never mistreat her, in this you are right; but I will also never pressure her for more than she is willing to give me; so if she does not want every aspect of a relationship, she will always be safe in my home and with me at her side,” I admit softly. He claps me on the shoulder.

“I knew you were the right man, Radimir. You are good man, my friend.”

This evening, when I walked into Maxim’s apartment to see Emiliya, I gasped at the sight of her. I had never paid attention to the gossip magazines when they had pictures of the infamous Ivan Chekov and his daughter, but I should have.
She is phenomenal
. Her hair is long, to her waist; it is jet black, and her eyes a cool blue, almost white. Her porcelain skin is nothing short of perfection. Her body makes me weak at the knees.

Emiliya is built as a woman should be, her breasts full and round, her waist not overly thin, her hips full, and her ass makes my heart skip a beat inside of my chest—it was full, plump, and waiting for my hands to take it and squeeze,
hard
. She is the exact opposite of Klavdia, but no less beautiful in her own right. She is even short to Klavdia’s model-esque stature.

I balled my fists in order to keep from reaching out and wrapping her in my arms. My body knows and even my brain screams
MINE
at the sight of her. Her red lips trembled, and I yearned to kiss them.

I imagine what her small body will feel like underneath my powerful one; how it will feel to have her hips in front of me while I fuck her from behind, that luscious ass in full view; to be able to lift her and manipulate her tiny body to my will. I shiver at the thought.

I need her.

I want her.

She is mine.

Now that I am in my home, with Emiliya just a few doors down, I can’t bring myself to take her.
So vulnerable,
my girl
, and so very naïve
.

I have never fucked a virgin, never made a woman bleed from my cock going inside of her. I don’t know if I could be gentle with her. I want her too badly for that.

I lock her away like a prisoner, but it isn’t because I am afraid she will run. I know she won’t. Emiliya is resigned to her position just as her brother said she would be. She is a good girl, such a good girl. I lock her away because if she were to wander around this house and I saw just a glimpse of her, I would fuck her and she would hate me for it.

My cock is harder than it has been in years, and it is because of the dark haired goddess down the hall. I unzip my trousers and take my hard length in my palm, closing my eyes as I squeeze the head and then pump myself.

Images of Emiliya fill my mind as I stroke my cock. I imagine how her bottom lip trembles when she’s scared.
I want more of that
. I want to terrify her, and I want to make her cry.

I sigh, thinking about how gorgeous her light blue eyes would look with tears falling from them in pleasure, or even a bit of pain. I stroke harder when I think about choking her, and I come when I envision my red hand print etched on her pale slender neck.

I am a sick fuck.

Slave ownership may not be for me, but that doesn’t mean I don’t like to fuck a woman—rough and fucking filthy.

I
FEEL SOMETHING SOFT
trail down my cheek, to my neck, and then my collar bone. I moan and try to scoot closer to the softness. I hear a male groan and my eyes pop open and immediately crash with the cold blue eyes of Radimir.

I gasp, sitting up, wrapping the sheet around the satin gown I am sure has slipped and slid throughout the night, showing off more than I have ever willingly shown a man before.

“Radimir,” I whisper. I watch as he closes his eyes and hums softly for a moment.

“When you whisper my name like that, just out of sleep, you sound so fucking sexy,
kotik
,” he says softly.

I blink and then gape, looking up at him. His voice is so soft. I find that I like it. He just called me
pussycat
. I don’t know how to respond to
that
, and I don’t get a chance, either. His head dips down and his lips lightly brush mine in a sweet, soft kiss before he speaks again. His eyes travel down to my shoulder, where the strap of my night gown has fallen. I try to hold back a shiver as his finger slides under the fabric and slips it over my skin.

“I see you have found your clothing. It is all yours, Emiliya, and all brand new. Please come to the kitchen. I made breakfast.” He stands and walks out of the room, leaving me sitting with my lips on fire from his kiss, and my mind spinning, thinking about pussycats and clothes.

I quickly dress in a pair of leggings and a tank top before throwing my hair up in a messy bun. My face is a mess, my eyes still puffy, but I am hungry and I do not want to upset Radimir.
I have no idea how he will behave if I do not follow his commands.

I smell the bacon as it enters my room, and I hear my stomach rumble with hunger. I shove all thoughts to the back of my mind and hurry downstairs.

“Sit,” Radimir orders. I do, because, well… I am hungry.

Radimir fills two plates with eggs, bacon, breakfast muffins, and fresh fruit. It is beautiful, and I can’t believe he has made all of it for
me
. He slides the plate in front of me and sits down across from me with his own. We are sitting at the breakfast table, a small white surface with only four black chairs. I can’t help myself, I stare at the plate in awe.

“I poured you coffee and orange juice. If you would like something different, please tell me,” he says softly.

My eyes snap to his. I smile, my lips a bit wobbly. He is giving me a choice and he is giving me his
permission
to ask for something different.
Nobody
has ever done that before.

“No, this is so perfect. You are a wonderful chef,” I admit, taking a bite of the eggs into my mouth.

“I am no chef,
kotik
, just a single man,” he says, watching me. I shake my head.

“I wish I were a better cook. My father required me to attend culinary school while I was at University in France, but I’m afraid it didn’t take. I am terrible in the kitchen.” I regret the words as soon as they come out.

Will he not keep me if I can’t cook?

“Good, then you won’t be wasting countless hours in the kitchen. We can order our meals or I can hire a chef; whatever you desire, Emiliya,” he suggests.

I blink, once, twice,
three
times, uncertain if I have heard the words correctly.

“A chef?” I ask, my voice weak and small.

Radimir nods, putting a grape in his mouth. I watch as he slowly chews the fruit, gently, and with purpose. Suddenly, desire rips through me. I want to
be
that grape. I want his full lips to wrap around any part of my body, and I want his teeth to sink into my skin. Though I’m not sure
why
I want this, I just know that with him,
I want it all.

I have never been allowed to date before. Never even been allowed to be alone with a man. When I went to France, I had guards—guards that reported to my father every single step I took.

One of the guards I thought I had feelings for. I would give him shy glances and grins. I wanted him to kiss me. I wanted to feel his full lips on mine. Eventually, the other guard ratted him out, told my father he was coming on to me. It was too late, though; heinous damages had been done, the guard turned into a monster and the next day a new one replaced him.

Having feelings for Ivan Chekov’s daughter was dangerous. Acting on them was deadly.

From that moment on, I kept to myself. I never allowed myself to dream about anything more with a man, not matter what I wanted, no matter what I craved. I was not going to put another person in harm’s way because of my psychotic father.

Things are different now, though. I have the opportunity to feel for another human. To possibly love. Last night, I would not have said I could have ever fallen for this man in front of me. But he isn’t exactly what I imagined when my brother handed me to him. He left me alone, he’s not taken any liberties, and when he looks at me, my heart flutters inside of my chest.

“Yes, whatever you like. This is your house now, too,
kotik
. Whatever you wish, it is yours,” he smiles.

My eyes widen. I wonder what I will have to do to get whatever I wish. Radimir wraps his big hand around mine and, as though he is a mind reader, he speaks soft and low.

“Everything I give you, Emiliya, comes with no strings. If you do not want to be intimate, I will not force you to be. I will still protect you and care for you in any way you wish. You are mine and I am yours from here on out. I hope that you will want me one day, as I find I already want you; but if that day doesn’t come, I will not force you.

“Your home will always be with me, beside me, and you will always be provided for. Do not worry about anything. I will have a few chefs come this week for interviews. Pick who you want,” he says, his thumb tracing small circles on the inside of my wrist.

My whole body melts, my insides catch on fire, and I shiver all at the same time
. I want him
. I want him and I don’t know how I feel about that. I also don’t know how to express that. So I nod and I focus on my food.

“You will need to find a wedding dress. We must make this public. We will have a small ceremony in one week’s time. We will leak the photographs to the paparazzi,” he announces before he goes back to eating his breakfast.

We don’t speak again, and he leaves shortly after, explaining he has to go into work. He advises that I stay inside the home. There is a guard outside the front door, keeping me safe, and he hands me his cell phone number. He is so nice, so soft with me, and the cold look in his eyes is now gone.
I like that.
I can see myself liking him more and more.
It seems my body already loves him
.

I go back to my room, shower, and change into real clothes for the day. I do not know what to expect, so I wait…

I am…
well
—I am bored.

I need something to do besides stare at the television and through the windows into the city below me. Radimir has been gone for five long hours and I am ready to climb the walls.

At home with my father, I was given a guard, but allowed to do as I wished. I usually just met with friends or went to the spa. It wasn’t that I was some spoiled princess, because I wasn’t; it was that my father didn’t allow me to do things that normal girls my age did.

There were no clubs, no menial jobs, no boyfriends, and the friends I was allowed to hang around were chosen by my father. They were girls much like me.
Prisoners
.