The Bratva's Baby (Wicked Doms 1)

“What?” I ask him. “It’s a pretty dress.”

“The dress is lovely,” he agrees, coming up behind me and gently tipping my head to the side. “But the woman in it… she’s astounding.”

“Mmph,” I reply, unable to respond when his lips meet my neck and send a trill through my body. “She’s fine.”

I yelp when he punishes me with his teeth on the tender skin. “Fine?” he growls in my ear. “If I didn’t have to fight a yard of fabric I would lift these skirts to spank your pretty backside for such an understatement.”

I don’t reply. This means nothing to me. If he did… if I cared about him, or us, or any of this, I would enjoy this moment with him. And maybe a part of me does, a little. I like how my belly warms when he’s pleased with me, and there’s no denying the fact I love how it feels to have him hold me like this. But I’m mired in thoughts of capture, held hostage with no choice in this, and truly dreading being paraded around in front of a room full of dignitaries.

“Let’s go,” he says.

Taking me by the hand, he leads me out of the bedroom and to the exit. We go to the hallway and wait in silence for the elevator. I’m trying to quell my rising nerves with steady, deep breathing. I hate the idea of a crowd of people. Maybe even the press. I shudder. Dimitri.

“Relax,” he tells me. “We’ll make this brief then come back up here.”

I open my mouth to reply, when my heart stops in my chest. We’re not alone. My scream is frozen on my lips as I stand in terror, watching a masked man careen himself at me with a knife in his hand. Kazimir must see the expression on my face, for he reacts on instinct, turning to see my assailant a split second before he shoves me to the ground and kicks his leg out to trip the man. It all passes in an instant of jumbled limbs, the hallway echoing with the sounds of blood-curdling screams I realize a split second later are mine.

“Down!” Kazimir yells at me when he pins the man to the ground. “Get on the elevator!”

I try to move but I’m frozen in fear, my arms and legs suddenly made of solid lead.

Kazimir falls to the ground on top of the man. When he rips his mask off, I don’t recognize the face underneath at all. Kazimir wastes no time, but rears his fist back and snaps it across the man’s face once, twice, three times. Blood spurts from his nose and bone cracks beneath the savage blows. I try not to scream, but I can’t help it, sobs wracking my body at the vicious violence. I look wildly about me for something to use as a weapon, to prepare myself if anyone else comes my way, but he’s the only one. I scream when the man knees Kazimir and Kazimir falls to the side. The man lunges for me, grabbing at my skirt. I kick at him to keep him away, and a vicious swipe of my foot connects with the man’s nose. He howls something in Russian, but he doesn’t get a chance to say another thing. Kazimir kneels on top of him, his lips set in a firm line, and without another word, takes the man’s head in his hands and with one wicked, savage turn of his hands, snaps his neck.

I watch in horror as the lifeless body slumps to the floor. Kazimir is on his feet, panting, coming to me.

“Why didn’t you do as I said?” he growls, yanking me toward him.

“I tried,” I say, my voice wavering. He shakes his head and pulls out his phone, pushes a button, and issues commands in rapid Russian. The elevator doors close behind me. When he’s done on the phone, he kicks the bleeding, lifeless body to the side and holds me close to him. Cupping my jaw in his massive hand, he brings my gaze to his.

“Are you alright?” he asks. I don’t respond. I just saw him murder someone as easily as he’d order a cup of coffee.

No. No, I’m not alright.

“I’m fine,” I lie, but a full-body tremor betrays me.

“Sadie,” he says, pulling me to him, but before he can say anything else, the elevator opens and four men I recognize step off, dressed in formal attire just like Kazimir. They’re the other men who met with him and Dimitri earlier.

Kazimir gestures and says something to the men. One kneels and looks at the man’s body. They converse, but as usual I have no idea what is said. I watch in stunned silence as one man kneels and frisks the body, wearing a thin pair of gloves. Within minutes, they’re covering the man’s body with a bag and Kazimir is leading me back onto the elevator. His hands are clean, and so am I. Miraculously, there’s not a drop of blood on either one of us.