Once he left, I noticed that first class was filled with only suited men with stoic expressions and a few guys wearing jeans and shirts. These men had a variety of tattoos, and they kept checking the door and their phones.
No single women or someone looking as ordinary as me was in first class.
What the hell was going on?
And even though it didn't matter, I still tried to calm my rapidly beating heart as the unfamiliar feelings ran through my body.
Just what the hell did I sign up for?
Radmir
I expected many things coming inside the main room, but not Dominic sitting at the bar, drinking vodka as though it was water, while Kostya kept giving me worried looks as he complained about his orders. Other members were busy playing billiards or making out with the women who served them drinks and rubbed their tits on them. The colorful crystal chandelier hung dangerously low and was at risk of damage from those fucking idiots who kept swaying their hands up and down or flexing their muscles or playing with guns. The black marble floor vibrated with the music blasting from the speakers, so loud it made my ears bleed. Why the fuck Dominic allowed such behavior was beyond me; it wasn't as if they deserved it. They weren't killing people or accomplishing stuff left and right. The last few months were laid back for the brotherhood, since the pakhan’s whole attention was on getting his woman, Rosa, back.
Kostya was the bartender and the main keeper of the headquarters. I had no fucking clue where he came from or why Vasya gave him the position, and I never questioned it. He was a good enough guy who knew what to do when shit hit the fan. His relationship with Konstanciya, our sniper, interested me, because it could create chaos among the Bratva. Making a mental note to check on it later, I addressed the pakhan while sitting on the stool next to him. “Getting shit-faced won’t help her in this situation.” Kostya slid a whiskey glass to me, and I saluted him with it.
Raising his brow, Dom pointed out, “Funny… you saying this to me, considering you aren't a saint either.”
I chuckled as I studied the girls dancing on the pool table. The guys salivated while gazing at them, some of them even shifting uncomfortably, adjusting their hard-ons. What was the fucking appeal of wanting women who literally fucked everyone in the brotherhood? Some of them were around even before I got locked up. Although I liked fucking in the past, like Dominic, I preferred finding women outside. The idea of putting my dick in someone who just had one of the new recruits inside her didn't exactly help my hard-on. “Unlike you, I have better reasons for it.”
My reply was met with a snarl as he slammed his glass on the bar. “My woman was abused and then turned into someone she isn’t, all because of some sick motherfucker who I still can’t locate. That’s not reason enough for you?”
Calmly sipping my drink, I wondered aloud, “Where is she?” If Dominic thought his angry outburst would accomplish anything, he was wrong. I raised him. I could recognize when his heart hurt. Vasya brought him to me when he was fifteen years old, an angry little pup who dreamed of finding his identity in this world. He learned everything from me.
“Upstairs. Ruslan said she just fainted due to shock and nerves. I left her with Michael, because her words still hurt me. I couldn't just sit there,” Ruslan was the Bratva doctor, and a damned good guy. I still owed him for stitching my knife wound ten years ago.
“Right. But she is yours. Unlike me… Vivian married Alex and had his son.” My voice was laced with coldness, covering the bitterness running through my veins at the thought of her, my woman, in that fucker’s arms. Had she not been his wife, I would have dragged her to Russia with me and never let go, but she legally belonged to him. And if there was one rule I never broke, it was taking someone else’s wife. She would divorce him and then I’d take what was rightfully mine from the very beginning. Our one night together was my vengeance on her, but it turned out the only person I ended up punishing was myself. Images of her beauty and moans haunted my dreams nightly, while my heart longed to hold her in my arms.
Before I could add anything else, a redhead came to us with a huge smile on her face. She wore a short skirt that displayed her long legs and a white top without a bra, so her nipples were visible through the thing. Her whole attention was on me. What the fuck did she want?
“Sovietnik,” she murmured, trailing her index finger down my chest, her eyes scanning my shirtless torso with appreciation. “Would you like my company?” Turning her voice husky, she licked her lips, promising me a good time between the sheets.
I used to adore women, never having one for more than one night, and they all liked me. Generous gifts and dinners seemed like a good bargain for a night of sex; I never wanted them to feel used. None of them inspired anything but a hard-on in my body, but nevertheless, I always tried to be the perfect gentleman.
But then Vivian happened, and I lived and breathed for her. And she might be married with a kid… but my body didn't get the memo. Any thought of putting my hands on another woman repulsed me, as if I was betraying something precious.
Suddenly, I was furious. I was so tired of those bitches trying to get me into their beds. Politeness just didn't work with some people.
I grabbed her hair painfully, and she moaned in pleasure, stepping closer to me, fishing for a kiss, but I pushed her aside harshly. She almost stumbled back on her heels. “I’m going to repeat one more time what I’ve already told you, and if you don’t listen, your ass will be out of here permanently.” Holding on to the couch, she whimpered and cast her gaze down, not able to bear my scrutiny. “Never touch me without my permission.” I addressed the rest of the whores who stood in the corner, their eyes wide. “The same goes for you. I’m not fucking interested in what you’re offering.” They nodded frantically. The redhead joined them, and they enveloped her in a tight hug. “I’m tired of explaining this to each one of you.” My bark got the point across, and they retreated farther into a corner. “Turn on the fucking music.”
Igor quickly flipped on the speakers, while exhaling a sigh of relief. Good to know the Bratva still remembered about my temper.
Swiveling on the seat, I turned back to my whiskey and clenched the glass tighter in my fist.
Fuck, I did need sex. My body was constantly on hyper-alert during the workouts and missions, but my frustration could only be soothed by jacking off, which left me even hungrier than before for a taste of my woman.
More workouts would help to take my mind away from my needs; at least it managed to help me for the last five months.
Soon I would claim my woman again and bring her back here, where she would become my pleasure slave as I’d come up with ways to punish her for her betrayal. Fuck my rules. She belonged to me first; Alex could take a hike.
Dominic cleared his throat and said, “Her kid, his name is Jake, and he is five years old. He is yours.” I froze, inhaling sharply as my mind tried to make sense of the information he had given me. “The reason she married Alex Jordan was because he blackmailed her. I don’t know the details. But he never had her. She is still yours.”
What?
All this time in prison, she was what kept me alive, kept me going, and withstanding all the torture from the people who’d tried to kill me. Because as long as she waited for me outside, nothing else mattered.
Then Dominic showed up a year ago and told me she had married someone else and had his child, and fury and pain have filled me ever since.
I didn't even have time to process that Jake was mine or the joy in my heart at the little boy being the result of our love; all I could think about was the betrayal by the one person I had never expected.
