The Bratva's Baby (Wicked Doms 1)

I look to Kazimir, but he won’t meet my gaze. He’s focused on Dimitri, and when a man next to him speaks, I look to see who it is. There are two other men here, both I recognize from the plane, the blond-haired, blue-eyed man who gives me an appreciative look and the darker one whose eyes are fierce but kinder. I tremble when the blond man’s eyes rake down my chest to the full cleavage on display. The brown-haired man doesn’t meet my eyes or even look my way, and for some reason it feels like an act of kindness.

Dimitri says something I don’t understand, but he says Kazimir’s name. Kazimir resounds, then Dimitri says something that makes Kazimir’s entire body go rigid. I watch his knuckles turn white. He gives Dimitri a one-word answer, but the other men don’t seem to like it.

I jump when their voices rise in volume. The blond man says something that makes Kazimir angry, because he raises his hand and cuts him off with a harsh string of sentences. The blond man sits back in his chair and crosses his arms, brooding. The man next to him says something in a quieter voice, but the blond man interrupts him. Dimitri interjects something, and the other two begin to argue. Kazimir orders a sharp command, and both of them stop speaking.

He’s clearly the one in charge here. Though he defers to Dimitri, Kazimir is the one calling the shots. I move subconsciously closer to him. When I do, he gives the chain a little tug and rests his hand on my shoulder. Leaning forward, he speaks with vehemence to Dimitri. I hate that I don’t have a clue what he’s saying, but I am fairly well versed at reading body language.

Dimitri has just told Kazimir something he didn’t want to hear. The other men objected, and Kazimir stopped them. Now Kazimir and Dimitri are making a decision.

At least, that’s what I’ve surmised.

I keep my eyes downward, but when I hear Dimitri say my name, I look quickly at him and shift on the floor. Dimitri’s eyes are on Kazimir, but when I look up, he looks down at me and strokes his chin. My skin tingles when he lets his lewd gaze travel down the length of my body, but when he comes to my feet, he freezes. I glance to where he’s looking. The hem of my pants has risen with me sitting on the floor, and the bandages are clearly visible.

“Sadie,” Dimitri says. Kazimir stiffens. “What happened to your ankle?”

Oh, God. I don’t want him to know.

“I cut myself,” I say in a barely-audible voice.

Kazimir intercepts in Russian. Dimitri gives me a long look, but his eyes look colder than before. He gives Kazimir a nod, but I know he hasn’t missed anything. My stomach feels uneasy. I want to be alone again. Heck, I’d settle for being alone with Kazimir.

I stand when Kazimir does, keeping my eyes cast down. It seems their meeting is over. When he walks to the elevator, he goes so quickly I can hardly keep up with him. I skip to match his stride. The other men sit behind us, no one following. Silent.

He slams the button on the elevator as if to punish it, and curses when the doors don’t open right away. Dimitri calls out to him, and Kazimir responds curtly. The doors to the elevator swing open, and Kazimir practically shoves me in.

When the doors shut, I look to him.

“What happened in there?” I ask. “I didn’t understand a word.”

“You don’t need to,” he says, before he clenches his jaw and looks away.

I don’t like being dismissed like this. I might be chained and still bearing the pain from punishment, but I want to know.

“Tell me,” I ask. “Please.”

“There are some things that don’t concern you,” he says. We stop at his floor. The doors swing open. I yelp when he tugs the chain at my neck and practically yanks me out of the elevator.

“Kazimir—“

“Sir!” he thunders. “You will call me sir.”

Tears prick my eyes. Was it just my imagination thinking there was tenderness in this man? A desperate longing that painted my perception?

“Sir,” I throw back at him, the hurt in my chest flinging the word at him like an arrow. “It seems you were talking about something that did involve me.”

With a pull, he spins me out in front of him, the chain yanking against the tender flesh. I cry out when I lose my balance and topple over, but he braces me against his knee and slams his palm against my backside.

“Quiet,” he orders. I stand by his side, subdued and a little afraid, as he opens the door and leads me in.

“Remove your clothing,” he says, slamming the door so hard behind him, the glass chandelier and mirror on the wall shake audibly. When he lets the chain go, the weight of it tugs on my neck. “All of it,” he growls, standing in front of me with his arms crossed on his chest.