The Bratva's Baby (Wicked Doms 1)

We’re at the same floor he took me before to eat with Dimitri, only this time he doesn’t lead me to the dining room but takes a right instead, leading me down a hallway. In front of us stands a massive doorway that gleams in the light of the overhead lights, tinted glass and dark-paneled wood. On the other side of the door comes a series of deep, masculine voices speaking in Russian. I hear Dimitri’s, but the others are foreign. I shiver and step closer to Kazimir. In my former life, men intimidated me. I feared them, even those who were kind and gentle. And now he’s parading me in front of a room full of powerful, ruthless men. It’s like dragging someone who fears spiders in front of an aquarium of tarantulas.

“Kazimir,” I say, my voice choked and desperate. My hands shake so badly I flatten them against my stomach to still the trembling. “I can’t do this.”

I close my eyes, as if shutting out the doorway to my fears will somehow make it go away.

“You can,” he says calmly. “You must.”

I shake my head, my eyes still closed. I don’t pull away or try to run, as I know that would be useless, but I don’t take another step forward. I jerk closer to him when he pulls the chain at my neck. My eyes fly open just before I crash into the black t-shirt at his chest. His arms encircle me and he holds me close to him, as his mouth comes to my ear.

“There are no men in that room besides me,” he whispers, his warm breath making the skin on the back of my neck rise. The masculine scent, like sandalwood and pipe smoke, envelopes me, when his hand glides up the small of my back, pulling me flush against him. “There is no one whose voice you obey, eyes you hold, body you touch. Your only focus is on me, krasotka.”

I nod into his chest, still angry at myself for letting him comfort me, but the reality is… he does. He doesn’t have to tell me that if another man looks at or touches me, he will hurt them. And despite the fact that he’s a monster… capable of cruelty… in this circumstance, he’s my protector.

“Okay,” I say with a nod.

I jump when his chuckle startles me. I forgot that this large, brooding man was capable of something as human as laughter.

“What?” I whisper.

An upward tug of the chain brings my gaze to his, shining dark eyes that twinkle like gleaming obsidian.

He whispers something in Russian, and this time I want to know what he says.

“What does that mean?” I whisper back.

“I don’t remember the exact translation,” he says, but I think he’s lying before he silences our conversation with a kiss that reignites every electric wire in my body. I come up on my toes when his mouth meets mine, branding me with a kiss that’s anything but tender. When he pulls away, a heated whisper in my ear so fierce it’s nearly a roar makes me freeze. “Behave yourself.”

Taking my hand in his, the chain to my collar tucked between our palms, he turns the handle on the door and pushes it inward. I follow his lead when he steps in the room, my eyes cast to the floor. He told me he’s the only man in this room, so I see no point in looking around me. That’s my plan, anyway, and at first, it’s easy to do as silence descends on the room when we enter. My cheeks flame with heat, but Kazimir walks in proudly and greets them all in rapid Russian.

I follow him as he leads me to a small loveseat sitting across from another, but when he sits he points to the floor.

“By my feet, Sadie,” he orders, his voice sterner than it was out in the hall. When he tugs the chain with a gesture to the floor, I feel my cheeks heat. It’s humiliating being treated like this in front of others, like I’m a dog to lie at its masters feet. I fold myself onto the floor, tuck my legs under me and sit quietly. I wish I spoke Russian. I want to know what the voices above my head are saying.

Eventually, curiosity gets the best of me and I discreetly lift my eyes to see who’s here. Across from the sofa where Kazimir sits is Dimitri, dressed in a black suit with his hands folded to one knee. When I raise my face, his eyes come to mine. I want to look away, but I won’t let him intimidate me. He gives me a predatory smile, turning to Kazimir. He says something approvingly in Russian that makes Kazimir’s grip on the chain tighten.