Deadly (Born Bratva Book 5) (33 page)

Roksana

I stand in front of the gilded cheval mirror in my designer gown, looking a damn sight more civilized than the last time I was here. I flush at the memory of the raucous fucking I received from the Grim Reaper. I hope to see him again someday.

The woman looking back at me is a bombshell in emerald green Prada couture – a gift from Oleg. The fabric cinches my waist and hugs my ass before cascading to the floor in a waterfall of gossamer layers. Oleg appears at my shoulder, looking almost civilized in his tuxedo. He slides his arms around me from behind, slipping a hand inside the strapless bodice of my gown to fondle a breast.

“Copping a feel already?” I laugh nonchalantly, but my heavy-lidded gaze and shallow breaths give me away.

“Mmm-hmmm,” he hums against my neck. “Great dress. This is my favorite part,” he says, meeting my eyes in the mirror as he gives my flesh a squeeze.

“I wonder what he has planned,” I muse aloud as I tilt my head to the side, giving him access to more of me.

“World domination.”

“That’s a given, baby,” I chuckle. “And I think he could if he set his mind to it.”

“I have no doubt.” He removes his hand and turns me around to face him, lifting my chin with one finger. “I don’t know what your father has planned for tonight. What I do know is this: it’s a new beginning for you and me. We’re going all the way together, Roksana – marriage, children, all of it. I want to have what normal people have.”

Normal. What is normal?
Things like debutantes, proms, and cheerleading weren’t part of my upbringing. My mother made sure I had all the social graces one would expect but, ultimately, I was born and bred to shed the blood of my father’s enemies.
That
is what’s normal to me.

“Are you telling me you’re giving up your sadistic, sociopath ways?” I ask with a pout.

“I wouldn’t go that far. You and I will always crave chaos and mayhem. Your parents have managed to have it all so I don’t see why we can’t.”

“I’m with you. I’m ready for a modicum of normalcy – I’m just not sure ‘normal’ is ready for
us.
Throw in a dash of crazy and, as long as we’re together, it’s all good.”

“You ready?” he asks, offering me his arm. “Let’s find out what your father has up his sleeve.”

I tuck my arm through his and we head downstairs -- just this once, side by side.

Anastasia

My heartbeat quickens as Dmitriy slides up behind me and whispers in my ear, “You’re a vision in red, Anastasia.”

I shiver as his lips brush my skin.

“You’re my date tonight,” he continues, audaciously pressing a kiss to the nape of my neck. “That means no dancing with anyone but me. You’re mine, you know. You would be wise to accept it.”

I step away from him and accept a glass of champagne from a passing waiter. “You know,” I say as I glance around the ballroom, “Serial Killers R Us is having a sale, I’m sure you’ll find what you’re looking for there.”

He throws back his head and laughs before falling into step next to me. “Oh, that’s where you’re wrong.” He stops me, taking hold of my arm and turning me around to face him.“You see,” he murmurs, running his hands up and down my upper arms and smiling as goosebumps rise from his touch. “I’ve already found exactly what I’m looking for. I’m afraid nothing else will do. I never give up and I always get what I want. One way or another, you’re going to see things my way. No isn’t an option.”

My body – the traitor -- leans into him against my will. Maybe he’s right, maybe I’ve never been in a real relationship.

“This isn’t just about fucking you, Anastasia – although I can promise you we’ll be getting to that soon. No, as much as I look forward to being inside your body, I want to get inside your head…the same way you’ve gotten into mine.”

“I never tried to get in your head, Dmitriy.”

His hand clamps the back of my neck and he pulls me toward him. All traces of his playful charm are long gone. “I meant what I said: as of tonight, you’re mine. I’ve got a jealous streak, baby, and you don’t want to see that side of me.”

He has no idea that I already know a little something about jealousy because of him. I think back to the night he and Oleg went to the strip club. At the time, I didn’t understand why it bothered me so much when Maricel and her friend joined Dmitriy and Oleg at their table. Even then, I didn’t want his attention focused on anyone else. Well, now I’ve got what I wanted. I sure hope I can handle it –
handle
him.

In our world of Bratva, secrets and murder truly are the ties that bind. Perhaps Glazov is right and the diamond business will take us into a new era, free from the constant threat of danger and death. I hope so. But in the meantime, I,
Anastasia
, am ready to face whatever comes my way.

My decision made, I smile up at Dmitriy. He offers his arm with a slight bow and I take it, tucking my hand snugly in the crook of his elbow. I press the side of my breast against his arm and caress his bicep, just to hear him growl in frustration as he nods benignly at passing guests.

“So it’s going to be like
that
, is it?” he teases softly, for my ears alone.

“Mm-hmm,” I reply, smiling serenely at the same guests.

No expense has been spared for tonight’s festivities. Tables are set up with every Russian delicacy imaginable and the exotic smells are nothing short of decadent.

“I’m starved,” I say eagerly as my tummy rumbles.

“Come, then, let me give you the tour,” Dmitriy offers smoothly, shooting me a searingly hot look as he presses his hand to the small of my back and guides me across the room to where the feast awaits.

As we stroll among the heavily laden tables, he whispers in my ear, his warm breath making me shiver. “You see, Anastasia, I value both my Latino and Russian heritage, but tonight? Ah, tonight is all about Mother Russia. We Russians love fish so here we have Lemon and Shallot sautéed fish, and pan fried butterflied trout. Over here, Sushki tied in a string; roasted duck with apples; belorusian potato and cheese soufflé babka. Now
this
,” he says with barely contained enthusiasm, “ is Sirniki -- farmer’s cheese pancakes.”

He takes me by the shoulders and turns me to him, saying quite solemnly, “You mustn’t ever leave me alone with the Sirniki, darling. I’ll devour them, every…delicious…morsel.” This last is said as a slow, sexy smile spreads across his face. I exhale slowly, my lips forming a perfect ‘o’ that attracts his attention and momentarily halts our progress.

With an amused shake of his head, Dmitriy continues my tour. He describes every decadent dessert in mouthwatering detail that borders on erotic -- my body certainly thinks so, anyway.

As he guides me solicitously through the gauntlet of tables, he pauses without warning so I look up to see what has caught his attention. Oleg and Roksana are observing our progress from where they stand near the head table. Dmitriy acknowledges them both with a slight tilt of his chin. Oleg stares back at him steadily, narrowing his eyes slightly as they communicate silently. To my surprise, Roksana raises her glass in salute and, judging by her cheeky grin, resounding approval.

In full view of the crowd, Dmitriy turns me to face him and, with a hand on the back of my neck, presses his lips to mine in a searing kiss that steals my breath. He wraps his arms around me and pulls me close against him so that there’s not an inch of space between us. When he finally ends the kiss, he smiles down at me…right before he cups the curve of my ass in a blatant show of possession for the benefit of every other man in the room.

“What’s next, Dmitriy? Are you going to drag me by my hair into your cave?”

“
Amante
, I thought you’d never ask.”

Roksana

I love my parents’ parties. There’s always an atmosphere of family, even with all the networking and political schmoozing that come with it. The Bratva people here love each other and it’s a time to be happy and celebrate how far we’ve come. It’s also one of the few times I feel a semblance of safety. Here in the grand ballroom that is my father’s pride and joy, we’re on hallowed ground, a place where no outsider would dare to threaten the Pakhan or his interests.

“Earth to Roksana,” Oleg murmurs in my ear. “Where have you drifted off to,
devotchka
?”

I turn and look at the man who not only holds my heart but the promise of a lifetime together. He looks good tonight. No…he looks better than good. Instead of the traditional air of civility that you would expect a tuxedo to convey, Oleg’s custom-fit tux gives him a dangerous look that only enhances the raw, primitive charisma that is unique to him.

He pulls me to him and whispers in my ear, “Tonight your father announces our wedding plans. You ready for that?”

His expression is one of confidence. Though I’d never even think about backing out, we both know we’ve come too far to even consider it. To not get married would be to go against the Pakhan’s decree, which would be…frowned upon, to put it mildly. Luckily, we both like the idea, a lot.

It occurs to me that my father didn’t really explain the purpose of tonight’s event, just that it was a special night for celebrating. So how does Oleg know? So not cool if my father is letting him in on information I don’t know.

“How do you know what he’s announcing tonight?” I ask, cutting my eyes at him suspiciously.

“Calm down. He didn’t leave you out. I’m going on gut instinct. Your father is thinking about the future. Even he knows he’s not going to live forever—someone has to take this thing over someday.”

“I don’t like talking about it.”

“That’s exactly why I didn’t bring it up. On another note,” he says wickedly, “how about we start working on babies right away?”

I roll my eyes. “You and your one-track mind.”