Glazov (Born Bratva Book 1) (15 page)

Kathleen

I glared at my husband, and I could tell he was shocked when he heard the words I spoke. “I’m your wife, and I am the mother of your child, but I am not your lover. Don’t you dare lay a hand on me, and get out of my room. Now!”

He looked like I had smacked him in the face, and if I wasn’t pregnant with his child, I probably would have. I had too many mixed emotions going on inside my head, and my husband was no longer a part of them. I had to be here, but I was nobody’s fool. If he thought he could abandon me, lie to me, and I would forgive him just because the sex was good, then this time, he had sorely underestimated me.

This was the first time in my life I had ever been this blindsided by someone’s antics. What the hell had Glazov been thinking? Did he do this because the agent had come to my office and questioned me? Was he trying to show me how powerful he was by fucking with my head? I wondered if law enforcement also thought he was dead, or if this had just been some sick, twisted game he was only playing with me.

Kathleen

If I thought Glazov was obsessed with me before, it was nothing compared to how he behaved with me now. He literally monitored every move I made. He spared no expense when it came to anything I needed.

He had completely set me up with the latest technology to run my business from Russia. Robin was running the office in the states, and he kept a very close watch on her through his associates there. That was fine with me because it was about time she took some responsibility for her mistakes. I cared about Robin, but she had also betrayed me, and caring about someone doesn’t mean setting yourself up to be stolen from again. She had stolen something I would never get back—my freedom.

I had managed to stay away from Glazov for the last couple of weeks, but I could tell that my body was going through changes. I was well past my first trimester, and my clothing was tight, my breasts were swollen and sore, and my core was empty and aching to be filled. I was horny, very horny.

I made my way to bed and was certain to lock my bedroom door. My body needed release, and in the same way I knew how to take care of myself in every other area of my life, I knew how to take care of myself in the sexual realm.

I stripped down naked and kicked off the covers. I bent my knees, let my legs fall to the side, and began rubbing my finger over my soaked slit. I stuck the forefinger of my other hand in my mouth and licked it before flicking it lightly over my swollen nipple. Small mews escaped my lips as I alternated sliding my finger in and out of my opening and raking it over my clit.

In a matter of moments, my hips were rocking and my breathing had changed. Three orgasms later, I rolled over and drifted off to sleep. I still felt empty though. I needed to be fucked, but I wasn’t about to let my husband touch me, so it would have to do for now.

I missed the rough sex he had subjected me to, and getting myself off wasn’t going to change that. Nothing was going to fill the emptiness he created when he left me. I hated my body for betraying me to the monster who held me captive.

It was as it always had been with Glazov concerning my emotions. It was a raging conflagration of love and hate, anger and need. He had left a mark on not only my body, but also my psyche, and I would never be free from his hold. He would always be the benchmark I compared every other man to, and they would never measure up. He had tattooed his mark of darkness on my soul for life, for eternity.

Glazov

I sat at my desk and stroked my cock while I watched my wife masturbate through the surveillance I had set up. Once again, she had underestimated me, and I was getting quite the show tonight. I’d made sure nobody else had access to this video feed. This was a private camera, and none of my bodyguards had access to it. I would never allow another man to watch my wife during her most intimate moments. I squeezed my cock tightly around the base and imagined I was buried deep inside that sweet little pussy of hers. I knew it wasn’t going to sate the craving I had to be buried in her depths, but at the very least, it would take the edge off.

With the night vision capabilities the cameras in her room had, I could see everything she was doing, and I could see it from all different angles. She needed to be fucked by me. There was no way her fingers were going to give her the kind of satisfaction that I could. I almost chuckled at the thought of how frustrated she must be. She forgets that I’ve spent years studying the female anatomy. I’m well aware that as her pregnancy with my son progresses, her hormones will have her raging with need.

I watched her face contort as an orgasmic wave washed over her, and it sent me over the edge with her. I pumped my cock and watched as my seed spilled out all over my hand. I scowled, thinking it should be spilling into my wife. I wanted to be buried inside her once again. I missed taking her, consuming her. I missed my Ptichka.

I grabbed a tissue from my desk and cleaned myself off. Just like her, I had found release, but I wasn’t satisfied. My wife had ruined my playboy ways because my cock wouldn’t even get hard for another woman.

I didn’t know how much longer I could take this, but right now, no matter how much I disliked it, she held all the power. I refused to do anything that would hurt my wife or my baby. I could only hope she would soon forgive me for leaving her.

I’d do my best to explain why it had been necessary for me to fake my death. It had been just as hard for me to stay away from her as it was for her to not know my whereabouts.

I’m certain all kinds of worries plagued her while we were separated. I’m sure she wondered if I was dead, if I’d been tortured by an enemy, or worse yet, if I had left her for another woman. I needed to make her understand.

Suddenly, the thought hit me that I should use Vladimira. Just as her name implied, my sister was a ruler. She was Bratva born, Bratva bred, and as deadly or deadlier than any of her male counterparts. It’s very uncommon in Russia to name a female Vladimira, the female version of Vladimir, because most families like their daughters to be named something feminine and soft. We are not most families. My father raised her to be Bratva rather than following the tradition of keeping the women separated from business. He understood a woman who was trained in organized crime could be an asset and a very dangerous one at that.

My sister loved her big brother, and she would do anything for me. Perhaps my wife needed a feminine shoulder to lean on, and there was none better for the job than my dear, deadly, baby sister. It boiled down to one thing; I loved Ptichka, so my baby sister would too.

I leaned over to press the speaker and commanded her to come into my office. It was time to have a family meeting.

I watched as my tall, dark haired sister walked across the room to kiss me on each cheek. I was the only child who inherited the blond hair, blue eyed, Russian traits. The rest of my siblings all had jet-black hair and eyes. I wondered if my son would have those traits or if he would take after his mother and father’s light skin and hair. He would be very different if he ended up having the same red hair his mother did. Regardless of what physical features he ended up possessing, his heart and soul would be Bratva.

“Vladimira, it seems my wife is very angry with me for faking my own death.”

“Do you blame her?” She didn’t give me time to answer before she lit into me. I listened as she continued.

“Months of not knowing if you were dead or alive, only to be told you had met your demise. You could have caused harm to your unborn child with your stupidity.”

“My wife is stronger than that, little sister.”

“Oh, it’s evident she is strong. To be an outsider and do so well after being thrown into the family legacy says quite a bit about not only her strength, but her character as well. She’s already shown us she won’t fold under questioning.”

“Vladimira, I need you to do me a favor and have lunch with her. Take her out for the day, and do whatever it is you women do.”

“What would that be, Glazov? Target practice on your wanted poster?”

“Very funny, just do it.”

“So, let me get this straight. You fucked up with your wife by lying to her, and now you want me to fix it?”

“Isn’t that what family does?”

“I’ll do it, just so long as you understand I’m doing it for her and your unborn son.”

“Just do it, and quit being such a bitch about it.”

“That’s me, baby, Bratva bitch, and don’t you forget it.”

I shook my head as she got up to leave. She was the typical type A personality with the surname Glazov, always vying for control. Maybe she could talk some sense into my wife. I waited until she got to the door before I spoke, “And don’t wear the poison ring. I wouldn’t want you accidently killing my wife and kid.”

“I don’t have accidents, dear brother, and the poison ring goes where I go.”

Kathleen

I leaned back in my chair and rubbed my hand over my stomach. I could feel myself bonding with this baby already. It wasn’t going to take a physical sign of my pregnancy for me to love my child. I loved this baby from the moment the doctor informed me I was pregnant. I looked up to see Glazov leaning against the doorway. His massive frame took up the whole entrance
.
He was wearing tailored grey pants and a black button-up dress shirt with a slate grey tie. The holster he wore reminded me, once again, that we were not some sweet suburban family with a white picket fence. He stood with his legs crossed at the ankles, stalking me with his eyes.

Everything about his demeanor exuded power, strength, and confidence. He was a man who was in complete and total control. A small part of me reveled in the fact that with all the power he had, he couldn’t control my heart anymore.

I quickly jerked my hand away from my belly and looked away from him. I watched him suspiciously in my peripheral vision as he made his way over to my desk, and I could feel my heart start to race. I wondered if it was from fear or something else.

He stood behind my chair, and I froze as he leaned down to softly rub my belly. “Don’t stop because of me.”

I could feel the flutters in my stomach as his hand ran over my small bump, and I took my hand and placed it over his, trying to remove it. I didn’t like the fact that my baby responded to his touch. He made a clucking sound with his tongue as if he was correcting me.

“You wouldn’t deny a father his son would you?” I froze, allowing him to continue. I would never deny a child their birth parent. I grew up in foster care after I was removed from my mother, and I didn’t want my son to know the pain of being separated from his parents.

He moved my hair over my shoulder and began taunting me with whispers that sounded more like feral growls. “I miss having my cock buried in that sweet little pussy of yours. Do you think about me when you stroke your fingers over your swollen clit at night? Do you remember the magic we shared? I damn sure think about you while I stroke my cock and watch you on surveillance. Last night was especially hot, watching you pull those covers down and bend your knees wide so you could finger fuck yourself. I’ve got ten inches of cock just waiting to be buried inside you. When you get tired of playing hard to get, you know where my suite is.”

He chuckled as he walked away, leaving me in a state of embarrassment and arousal. Once again, he succeeded in layering polar opposite emotions. I was confused, and I felt vulnerable and uncertain.

As soon as he left, there was a knock at the door, and I looked up to see his sister, Vladimira, walk in.

“You need to get out of here. Let’s go shopping, have lunch, and get you away from my brother who stalks your every move.”

I laughed so hard I thought I might pee myself. “You noticed, huh?”

“Of course, I grew up with him. Come with me, and I’ll fill you in on all the dirty little details.” She waggled her eyebrows, sending me into another fit of laughter. I could already tell that even though this was the first time I was meeting her, I was going to like her. I was glad I had already gotten dressed for the day, so it was just a matter of grabbing my bag and leaving.

Yafon stood out by the car and helped us get situated quickly before we took off. When I looked up at the window, Glazov stood with the curtain pulled back. My phone went off and when I looked at the text, it read:
Watching you, Ptichka. Always watching.

My lower abdomen clenched. It had nothing to do with the gangster’s baby, and everything to do with the effect he had on my body.

I turned my attention to Vladimira who played tour guide all the way to the restaurant.