Seducing the Badman (Russian Bratva #2)
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Authors: Hayley Faiman
Tags: #Russian Bratva Series, #Book 2
Seducing the Badman
Copyright © 2016 by Hayley Faiman
All rights reserved. Without limiting the rights under copyright reserved above, no part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in or introduced into retrieval system, or transmitted, in any form, or by any means (electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording, or otherwise) without the prior written permission of both the copyright owner and the above publisher of this book.
This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, brands, media, and incidents are either the products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. The author acknowledges the trademarked status and trademark owners of various products referenced in this work of fiction, which have been used without permission. The publication/use of these trademarks is not authorized, associated with, or sponsored by the trademark owners.
Editor: RC Martin,
Another Pair
Cover: Cassy Roop,
Pink Ink Designs
Formatting:
Champagne Formats
Table of Contents
Rosalyn —
Your favorite Badman.
Thank you for being invaluable to me.
Words could not express how much your friendship means to me.
RUSSIAN BRATVA STRUCTURE
Pakhan
– The Boss:
Controls everything.
Sovietnik
– Councilor:
Advisor and most close trusted individuals to the Pakhan.
Obshchak
– The Bookmaker:
Collects all money from Brigadiers and bribes from the government.
Brigadier
– Authority:
Captain in charge of a small group of men.
Boyevik
– Warrior:
Soldier, works for a Brigadier.
Kryshas
– Covers:
Extremely violent enforcers.
Torpedo
–
Contract Killers
Byki
– Bulls:
Bodyguards
Shestyorka
– Associate:
Errand boys. Lowest rank in the Russian Mafia.
Sixteen Years Old
I
KNOW THAT MY
father isn’t a good man. The locked down, forbidden sections of our house prove that secrets and danger lurk in every corner. The men that surround our home, the doors, and my father are just another clue.
I didn’t know how dangerous he truly was until I saw it with my own eyes.
I have the application in my hand. I want to go so badly, but he has already said no. He has already forbidden me to attend university. I am ahead in school. I have been privately tutored, and now I am ready to move on. I want to be normal, I want to find love, I want to get away from the strangling hold of my father’s grip.
Knocking on his closed office door is forbidden.
One rule among many
. I decide this cannot wait. I must know his answer. Tomorrow is the deadline for the application, and I must talk him into it.
The media has labeled me as a
printsessa
—a
princess
. From the outside, it looks as though I have everything my heart desires.
I have money, clothes, and things.
But I don’t have love, freedom, or happiness.
“In,” my father’s deep voice calls out. I slowly step inside of his office.
“
Papa
, I would like to talk to you. I… I want to go to university. I want to be like a regular person,” I murmur, looking down at my shoes.
I learned when I was a young girl to never look at him in the eye, unless he asked me to.
“Eyes up,” he orders. I obey.
I always obey.
“
Nyet
, Emiliya. You are not normal. Your job is to stay pure until I decide on your husband. You are to lie with him while he puts his seed inside of you, and then you birth his babies. You are to be a good wife and mother. You are to look perfect and act perfect at all times.
You are not to think
. Learning anything in University would do you no good. It will waste my time and money,” he grunts.
I can’t help the tears that well in my eyes. I want to go. I want away from this monster that I am forced to call my
Papa
. My lip trembles as my father stands and walks around his desk to me.
“You want to leave so badly? Fine. You can go to France; you can learn to cook. It is the only opportunity I will allow you,” he sneers.
I open my mouth to plead with him. I
hate
cooking. I am horrible at it. But not one sound comes out as my father’s hand comes out and lands across my face in one, harsh slap. I whimper as my cheek pounds, but he doesn’t stop. He never does. I take his punishment silently. His abuse.
“Never ask me for another thing, Emiliya. When you finish your cooking courses, you will come back and spread your thighs for whichever man I choose as your husband,” he growls before he spits on me. He then orders a man to drag me out of his sight.
I would kill him in this moment if I could.
I would love to watch the blood drain from his body, rendering him as helpless as he makes me feel.
I hate him.
I hate my life.
I hate myself for being so weak.
Twenty-One Years Old
MOSCOW, RUSSIA
T
HE PAPARAZZI FOLLOW ME
through the GUM shopping center. I wish they wouldn’t. My life is not that interesting. I shop, I lunch with girls who are like me—owned by their families— and I primp at the salon. My days are dull and lifeless, much like I am on the inside. A slave to my father’s whims, not in control of my own life, not even what I eat. My father controls everything. My diet, my looks, my wardrobe, my non-existent social life.
“Miss Chekova, give us a smile,” one of the men calls out as he points his camera toward me.
Chekova, the name that makes me cringe. Because I am the daughter of Ivan Chekov, I am
somebody
. At least to the outside world I appear as
somebody
. Little do they know that I am actually nothing. Absolutely nothing. I breath, I eat, and I sleep, but my life is not my own. I am a puppet, owned and controlled by the puppeteer.