The Bratva's Bride (Wicked Doms 2)

“My father was vicious and cruel. He didn’t want children. He didn’t want me. Why my mother let him anywhere near her will always be a mystery to me.”

“Maybe she was starving for affection,” I say softly. “Women will sometimes allow men to treat them badly in exchange for what they need.”

I didn’t mean to say that. I have to turn away from him. I’ve just stated out loud my biggest fear in all this, that I’m somehow relinquishing a part of who I am in exchange for a pittance of attention.

“And men will do whatever it takes to get what they want,” he says bitterly.

“I don’t know,” I say. I shrug. “I think it’s not limited to men or women but just… maybe just a part of the human condition. To act selfishly. To maybe compromise standards.”

He slowly nods. “When my mother was in labor with my sister, a three-day ordeal, my father refused to allow her to see a doctor.”

“Why?” I ask. It’s hard to fathom such cruelty.

“Doctors were expensive, and he didn’t want the baby.”

“How wicked,” I whisper.

He doesn’t respond. “My sister’s lack of oxygen during delivery caused brain damage. She was handicapped before she could even draw her first breath.”

My mind goes to Calina. My sweet, sweet sister, robbed of her faculties and mental capacities at such a young age. I close my eyes and wonder if she’s safe.

I need to find out. I will.

I open my eyes again and look at him, quickly bringing my thoughts back to his family so I don’t betray what I have planned.

“You speak of your sister as if she’s gone,” I suggest quietly. “Is she?”

He nods. “She died just before her third birthday,” he says. “Which was a full year longer than anyone ever expected.” My heart clenches, and a deep sadness pervades me. It isn’t fair that a child should have to witness such heartache. But he doesn’t allow us to dwell.

Getting to his feet, he reaches for my hand. “We’ve been gone too long, and I have work to do. Come.”

But as I walk with him, my mind goes back to the little boy who watched his younger sister die. Who witnessed cruelty, and likely learned it, from the hands of his father. I’m glad when we leave the room of icons, their vacant eyes and wooden poses no longer beautiful but haunting.Chapter 12The motherfucking politician with his watery, vapid eyes and bulbous nose drones on and on about foreign policy, illegal immigrants, and matters that bore me to near tears. His wife feigns interest in what he says but grimaces when he touches her. He doesn’t seem to care, though, greedily pulling her to his side and running his hand down her back even as his gaze roams to Calina.

I play the part, nodding when I listen and laughing in all the right places, but the silent conversations we have are of primary importance to me. When he glides his hand to his wife’s bare shoulder, I place my hand on the small of Calina’s back. When he looks at Calina with hunger in his eyes, I put my arm around her and draw her closer.

“Are you sure, Federov?” he asks in a low tone, after four glasses of sherry and as many flutes of champagne. Spittle flies out of his mouth when he speaks and I barely stifle the need to shield Calina from him. To draw her behind me so even his breath can’t touch her.

God, he repulses me. Dimitri was so much better at this part of our job than I am. I can lead the others with ease, and even enjoy the position of power and authority granted me. I love seeing our brotherhood thrive, empowered by the investments we’ve made and respect we’ve earned from our peers. Since I’ve taken over as leader, we’ve tripled our profit in black market trade and investments, gained the trust of associates in India, and solidified our connections to our Bratva brothers who reside in America. Maksym’s attention to detail and Filip’s finesse with money help.

When it comes to money and sheer brawn, I thrive. Not when it comes to political ties with men who sicken me, though. That’s when I falter. I liked it better when I was the heavy in the outfit, and I could pummel sick men like Amaranov.

I want to punch his swollen nose and break his heavy jaw. I want to lay Calina down and fuck her raw while he watches.

“Quite sure,” I tell him in a low voice. “I may be a man with many vices, but I’m possessive with my lover. She’s taking vows to me and will wear my ring.” I hold his gaze with mine. “My loyalty to her is unswerving.”

Amaranov’s wife’s eyes grow jealous, the smile on her face now plastic and forced. Her eyes travel to my hand on Calina’s back, and she bites her lip.