Bratva Prince (Bratva Series Book 2)

As Nik and Lukyan said their goodbyes I pulled my phone out, sending a text to Mila.

Me: My house—30 minutes.

She responded instantly.

Mila: Can’t wait 😉

I shot another quick text to Ethan and Daniel, the guards manning the front gate, telling them to let her in when she arrived, and then tucked my phone back into my pocket, taking a seat again.

Mila was Erik’s daughter. She and I had been seeing each other casually for years. She was by no means my girlfriend, despite what she liked to think sometimes. We didn’t go out on dates, or cuddle, or do any of that other couple-y shit people did.

We fucked. And that was all we did.

Mila liked to think that made her more important than she actually was. That fucking the Pakhan’s son, the future leader of the Bratva, somehow gave her power and authority over others. She wielded it like a weapon against the other Bratva women.

I didn’t give a shit. What she chose to say, how she chose to act, meant nothing to me. She was hot, a good fuck and had the same sexual kinks I did. Those were the only reasons I put up with her crap.

When the door to Father’s office shut, my brothers taking their leave, Father stood, shrugging out of his Armani suit jacket. He unclipped his Kevlar vest next, plopping it on the desk like a giant weight had been lifted off his shoulders.

A comfortable silence hung between us, one neither one of us felt the need to fill, as he unbuttoned the cuffs on his shirt and rolled up his sleeves.

Lines of tension marred his face, exhaustion flaring in his eyes. I knew Illayana’s kidnapping affected him greatly, but it wasn’t until moments like this, when he dropped the Pakhan mask that I was able to truly see his vulnerable side—a side he very rarely allowed others to witness.

Father picked up a pitcher of vodka and poured himself a tall glass. He took three big mouthfuls.

“What’s going on?” I demanded. Father only drank like that when something was seriously wrong.

He chuckled softly, swirling his glass in slow circles. “You know, there was once a time when you wouldn’t have dared speak to me like that.”

I scoffed, leaning back and resting one foot on the coffee table in front of me. “That was a long time ago, old man.”

Growing up, Father always treated me differently. Expected more from me. Held me to a higher standard than that of my younger siblings. He knew that one day, I would take his place.

He was tougher. Stricter. Downright fucking evil at times.

But he also encouraged me to question him. To never be afraid to speak my mind with him. Privately, anyway.

It took a long time for me to get comfortable with that. Right up until my late teens, I’d been absolutely petrified of the man. Not in a ‘my father’s abusive’ kind of way, but more in a ‘his presence demands fearful respect’ kind of way. And then eventually that fearful part just faded away.

“What’s going on?” I asked again.

Father sighed heavily, collapsing into his chair. His drink sloshed out of the glass, liquid splattering on the floor. Father didn’t care. He just took another drink, draining what was left. “Your Grandfather is coming to Las Vegas.”

I blinked once, twice, three times in complete and utter shock. My foot slammed back to the ground as I leaned forward, my arms resting on my thighs. “Grandfather? Really?”

“Really.” Father poured himself another tall glass. “He called just before Illayana’s wedding. He’s due in two weeks.”

“Why?” I asked in confusion.

Grandfather never left Russia, and I mean never. When he sent us over here to establish a Bratva base in Las Vegas, he never once came to visit. Not even when my mother died. All he did was send a fucking ‘my condolences’ card.

Guilt and anguish slammed into me like it always did whenever I thought about my mother. I clenched my fists hard, grinding my teeth together. I locked my emotions down tight, banishing any thought of my mother to the back of my mind, refusing to acknowledge it.

“He didn’t elaborate as to why,” Father answered, throwing his head back and downing another mouthful of vodka. If he kept going at this rate, he’d blackout soon. I had a feeling that was exactly what he wanted. “Just told me he was coming and then hung up. The bastard.”

“Do you think he knew about the shit Dominik and Rayna pulled? That maybe he’s coming over to handle it? Handle them?”

Father scoffed. “Sergei would never get in the middle of a dispute between Dominik and I. If anything, that old fucker would encourage it. You know how he always used to pit Dom and I against each other. In his mind, if Dom is strong enough to take the role of Pakhan from me, I didn’t deserve the position in the first place.”

“So then why is he coming here? What other possible reason could there be, if not that?”

“I don’t know. That’s what worries me,” Father sighed, rubbing his temples. “There’s so much to prepare for his arrival. He’ll check our records, our inventory, everything. He’s a stickler for the small things. The minutest of details.”

“So are you,” I grunted. “Don’t worry about it. I’ll handle it all. I’ll keep on top of Lukyan and make sure he does the inventory properly.”

“No, I’ll do that. I need you to focus on the prisoners.”

I frowned. “I can do both.”

“I know you can. That’s not the issue. If Sergei gets here and we still don’t have a clear, definitive answer as to why the Los Zetas are taking orders from the Outfit, I’ll never hear the fucking end of it. He’ll think we’ve gone soft, that we can’t handle our business. I don’t need that shit.”

“Who’s to say it was even the Outfit they were taking orders from? What if it was just Nero, and now that he’s dead they’re back to doing their own thing?”

Father thought on it for a moment. “It’s a good theory. But we’ll never know for sure unless we get one of them to talk.”

An evil look crossed my face. “Oh, you don’t have to worry about that, Father. I’ll get them to talk. One way or another.”

Father smiled. It was a truly dark and vicious smile. “Of that I have no doubt, my son. Now, there’s something else I need to tell you.”

Fucking hell. “What? What is it now?”

“You’ll be getting a trainee in a few days.”

My brows snapped together. “A what?”

“Trai-nee,” he enunciated, like I didn’t understand the word.

I glared.

“It turns out Mikhail has a son.”

I arched an eyebrow. “Mikhail? A son? Since when?”

“Since a woman turned up on his doorstep and dumped the kid there, along with a paternity test.”

“Oh shit,” I laughed. “How old is he?”

“A few months shy of eighteen. And according to Mikhail, he’s a total pussy—his words. Apparently he cried when he saw some guy get shot.”

I shrugged. “He’s a civilian, not born into the life. It’s probably the first time the kid has ever seen a person die before. Can’t blame him for freaking out.”

“I agree. But a man of Mikhail’s position can’t afford to be seen as weak. Having a son that bursts into tears at the first sign of violence threatens their lives.”

“So, Mikhail’s sending him to you to train? Toughen up?”

Father nodded. “Essentially, yes. Considering the bulk of Mikhail’s soldiers are men we’ve trained, it makes sense.”

It did, which annoyed the shit out of me. I didn’t have the time or patience to deal with a new trainee right now. Especially one as fresh as this kid.

“How do we know he can even be trusted? He’s lived the first seventeen years of his life as a law abiding citizen. Who’s to say he’s not just going to run to the cops the first chance he gets and tell them everything he’s seen?”

Father gave me his ‘Do you think I’m an idiot?’ look. “He’s not going to be involved in the day-to-day workings. You’ll train him in hand-to-hand combat, weaponry. Take him on a few routine jobs. Teach him self discipline, control. Toughen him up so he doesn’t faint at the sight of blood. That’s it. He’ll be assigned a tail the entire time he’s here. All his texts and calls will be monitored. Plus, he’s been warned by Mikhail about what will happen to him if he snitches.”

Well, fuck. I couldn’t really argue with any of that, could I?

“Why can’t Nikolai do it? I don’t need some kid shadowing me while I’m trying to get shit done.”

“Because I want you to do it, Aleksandr. You’re not Pakhan—”

“Yet,” I smirked.

“And until you are, you’ll bloody well listen to me.”

I had to refrain from rolling my eyes. He let me get away with a lot of shit, but rolling my eyes at him? No. If he caught me doing that shit, I’d be in the ring with him. “Yes, Father.”

“Good.”

My phone dinged in my pocket. I pulled it out, glancing at the screen.

Mila: I’m here. Just walking through the gate.

I got to my feet. “Was there anything else?”

Father waved me off. “Nothing that can’t wait until later. Go on. We’ll talk tomorrow.”

I bowed my head and left. As I walked out of his office, I heard the front door open, Lukyan’s voice echoing down the hall.

“Eck. What are you doing here?”

“Hi, Lukyan,” Mila said back, a fake sweetness in her tone. “It’s nice to see you too.”

“I didn’t say it was nice to see you.”

I rounded the corner just in time to see Lukyan slam the door in Mila’s face. Relentless knocking followed next.

I shook my head. “Was that necessary?” I asked as Lukyan made his way towards me, an icy pole in his mouth.

“Yes,” he slurped. “She’s annoying. Don’t know why you put up with her. She’s a conniving little bitch. You know she’s only fucking you because you’ll be the next Pakhan, right? If it was me or Nikolai, she’d be bouncing on our dicks, not yours.”

“Of course I know that,” I scoffed. “You think she’s the only one using someone here?” I moved to the front door and opened it.

Mila stood there dressed in a long black trench coat, her dark hair left free, flowing down her back in long curls. She was tall, but the pair of ‘fuck me’ pumps on her feet made her even taller. She had a slender face, clear, pale skin, full, plump lips, and dark hazel eyes.

“Alek,” she smiled, stepping in for a hug. The glare on my face made her rethink it, her smile faltering.

She did this every time, even when she knew I didn’t do hugs. She constantly tried to push the boundaries, hoping the more time we spent together, the more affection she tried to push on me, the closer we would become.

We wouldn’t, and I told her that. She knew I wanted nothing more than a casual sexual relationship. But that didn’t stop her from fucking trying, did it?

“Let’s go,” I grunted, using my body to usher her backwards.

Lukyan yelled, “Try not to catch any STDs!” as I shut the door.

Mila’s face turned red with anger, but she said nothing as I steered her towards the warehouse.

Lukyan wasn’t a big fan of Mila, and he had no problem letting her know about it. Lukyan didn’t have a problem letting anyone know anything. The damn idiot had no filter, had no issue saying the first thing that popped into his head. Even if it was completely inappropriate. It was why he got his ass into trouble 99% of the time.

“I was glad to get your text. I wasn’t sure if I was going to see you this week.” She walked like a pro along the gravel pathway, not a single misstep as she trailed behind me.

I grunted. With a woman like Mila, you had to be extra careful with the signals you put out there. Making plans with her more than once every few weeks would make her think things were more serious than they were. Considering I only saw her a few days ago, I could see why she thought we wouldn’t be meeting again this week. But I had a sexual itch that needed scratching, one that was amplified by my encounter with Firecracker.

When we got to the warehouse, I opened the door and flicked my head, signalling for Mila to walk inside. She gave me a sultry smile, running her fingers across my chest as she strutted past me, adding an extra sway to her hips.

Blood rushed to my cock. Adrenaline from the fight still flowed through me, amping up my sexual needs. An image of that dark-haired, tattooed, amber-eyed woman downstairs soared through my mind. It only made things worse, making me painfully hard.

I shut the door with a loud bang and Mila jolted in surprise. I kept the lights off, leaving the place shrouded in darkness. A few streams of light cut through the room, giving off just enough illumination to be able to see.

“Strip,” I commanded harshly, whipping off my shirt.

Mila turned to face me. Heat flared in her eyes as she stared at my naked chest, her teeth digging into her bottom lip. “Don’t you want to talk for a bit first, Alek? I know your sister’s kidnapping must have been hard for you. We could get some dinner and talk about it? You know I’m always here for you if you need someone to confide in.”

Yes, I did know that. But it wasn’t because she gave a shit about me. It was because she was trying to get me to care about her. To need her. To want her past a physical relationship. Everything she did had an ulterior motive to it, some other purpose than the one she portrayed. It had nothing to do with me and everything to do with my position.

“That’s not what you’re here for Mila, and you know it. So you can either take off your clothes, or I’ll find another woman who will.”

Her lips pursed in agitation. She looked as though she was going to argue, but in the end decided against it. She walked her fingers down her chest and gripped the sash belt wrapped around her body, undoing it quickly. Her trench coat fell away, pooling at her feet.

She was completely naked, and my dick stood to attention. Mila was a beautiful woman. She had a runway model body. Tall and slim, not a single ounce of fat. Her tits were on the smaller side, but high and perky. And her legs? It was like they went on for days in those six-inch heels.

“Safe word?” I grunted, cracking my neck from side to side.

“Yabloki,”Apples, she said in Russian, goosebumps pebbling her skin.

I nodded. Her safe word hadn’t changed the entire time we’d been fucking, but I always made sure we went over it before we got intimate.

I rolled my shoulders back and leaned forward until my lips were an inch away from hers.

Her breath hitched, her eyes darting down to my lips before flicking back up to my eyes.

A wicked smile crossed my face. “Run,” I whispered.

Mila spun and sprinted off, her heels clicking along the concrete floor.

Adrenaline surged in my blood, my heart pounding in my chest with excitement. The thrill of the chase. I fucking loved this part. The anticipation. Watching my prey run as fast as they could to get away from me, only to wind up beneath me in the end. I could barely keep still, my hands twitching with an overwhelming need to chase. To catch. To fucking devour.

I counted down in my head from ten, giving her enough of a head start to make things fun. Interesting.

I heard every movement she made. Every step she took. Every time she banged into a piece of gym equipment, the lack of light making it difficult for her to see. I could hear it all. It only excited me further, fuelling that deep, primal beast within me.

I bent down, picking up her sash belt and wrapping it around my hand before I went after her.

I hunted her, tracking her across the wide-open space as she ducked and weaved, trying to find a place to hide. I moved when she moved, slowly gaining ground until I was only a few paces behind her. She had no idea.

Mila shivered, glancing around uncertainly. She knew I was close. Prey instinctively knew when a predator was closing in. She could feel me, my presence, but she couldn’t see me.

That was the way I liked it.

I stayed low and off to the side of her, using the leg press machine to hide my large frame. I brushed my fingers lightly over her lower back and she shrieked, spinning fast, only to find the space behind her empty.

She backed up a few paces before turning to run off again, this time faster than before. Her breaths were coming out short and fast, her whole body trembling.

I took chase, my footsteps thudding loudly behind her. It was a tactic. If need be, I could move silently, but I wanted her to hear me. Hear me gaining ground on her, getting closer and closer.

She took cover hiding behind the boxing ring located in the centre of the room, her chest rising and falling hard, her head darting left to right, looking for me. I gave her a few minutes to catch her breath, waiting patiently, never taking my eyes off my prey.

When she went to move again, I pounced, running up on her from behind. I wrapped an arm around her torso, slapping a hand to her mouth to muffle her shriek of surprise. Her legs flailed wildly as I lifted her off her feet, her nails digging into my forearm. She fought against me with everything she had, bucking and twisting, screaming and scratching.

That primal part of me roared, loving the fight. It hungered for more. To bite. To claw. To play without the restraint I held over him. But my beast was too wild, and I’d yet to find a woman who could handle his savagery.

I dragged Mila down to the ground, pinning her down by the wrists, face down.

“Alek,” she moaned, pushing her ass out into the air.

It grated on my fucking nerves when she called me that.

I slapped the back of her thigh. “Spread your legs.”

Her legs opened far and wide, stretching to the point that I knew it had to be uncomfortable. I unwound the sash belt from around my hand and used it to tie her hands together, then I tied the remainder of it around the bench post in front of me.

Once I was done, I leaned back, admiring my prey.

Mila squirmed beneath me, her skin flushed, a sheen of sweat covering her back. Her hips swivelled, searching for something to grind against, and an impatient, frustrated noise left her mouth when she couldn’t find anything.

I palmed her ass, digging my fingers roughly into her skin. She winced but didn’t say her safe word.

I gripped her by the hips and hiked her ass up into the air until her pussy was lined up with my face. Her upper body was still stuck to the ground, hands tied securely around the bench post, gripping it tightly.

“Please, Alek,” she whined, her body shaking.

I pushed her up a little higher. Her pussy was dripping wet. Glistening. I blew softly against her clit first, and she whimpered, then I dragged my tongue from her clit to her entrance,

Fuck, I loved eating pussy. The feel of my tongue between those slick folds. The softness of that delicate pink flesh.

Good lord.

Next to sex, it was my favourite thing to do. Every woman had a unique taste, specific to them. Some were bad. Some were good. And some were downright heavenly.

I usually enjoyed Mila’s taste, but for some reason I wasn’t as into it as I usually was. And it was pissing me off.

I swirled my tongue around her clit, sucking it hard into my mouth.

Mila groaned deeply. “Yes, Alek. Yes. Feels so good, baby.”

I yanked my face away like she burned me, glaring down at her even though she couldn’t see me. “How many times have I told you not to call me that?”

“I’m sorry! It was an accident. Please, keep going,” she whined in desperation, but it was too late. I allowed her to call me ‘Alek’, but ‘baby’? Fuck no. That I’d never allow.

I dropped her lower half back to the ground.

“No! Alek, please. I’m sorry! I won’t do it again,” she cried, trying to look back at me.

I gripped her roughly by the chin and forced her head to face forward. “You’ve lost the right to look at me. You know the rules Mila, and you broke them. Now you suffer the consequences.”

She begged and pleaded. Apologised over and over again. But if I permitted her even a shred of leniency, she’d take full advantage.

I pulled out a condom, the plastic crinkling as I tore it open with my teeth.

Mila propped herself up on her forearms and knees. Like I knew she would, she murmured in a sultry voice, “You know you don’t have to wear a condom. I’m on the pill.”

She said it every time we fucked. Like clockwork. And like all the other times, I ignored her, sheathing my cock.

Mila was ambitious. Driven. Manipulative. She had her eyes set on being Queen of the Bratva. There was no way I was risking an accidental pregnancy.

I ran the head of my cock over her pussy, coating it in her wetness before I rammed into her in one deep thrust.