Page 14 of Bratva Queen

“You look very handsome, yourself,” I said shyly. He donned an expensive-looking suit. I noticed the silver rings on his fingers and matching cufflinks peeking out from his jacket.

He took me to a restaurant I’d never been to, with cuisine I could never afford even with my job at the club. Though he wanted to order me red wine, I didn’t care for alcohol after the childhood I had with my alcoholic father, so I politely declined. When he didn’t argue or try to convince me otherwise, I felt a certain kind of respect for him. Once again, I felt reassured that Stepan truly cared for me.

When we finished our meal, he drove me home. Escorting me to my door, he paused. Finally, ending my nervous anticipation, he leaned in closer and brushed his lips against mine in a gentle kiss. Our first kiss. It was perfect; a moment I would never forget. For the first time in my life, I experienced true romance.

* * *

For the next few weeks,we continued to date. Whether we went to a restaurant, out dancing, or even for a stroll through the park, it was pure bliss. He couldn’t be at the club for every shift, understandably, but he’d paid Boris enough money to ensure that I wouldn’t be giving lap dances. I knew this because Boris was also told to pay me a cut of that money, so I wouldn’t lose out on the tips. I was only allowed on the pole, no touching, unless it was Stepan himself asking for the lap dance.

Aleksei was there too. Every shift. Even without Stepan. Glaring at me.

When I saw him for the first time after what had happened, I felt my heart clench in pain, remembering the look of horror on his face and the feeling of utter rejection in my gut. But then, as a rush of self-preserving strength, my pain turned to anger. I glared right back at him, pressing my lips together and lifting my chin.

I strutted past him, not even giving him the satisfaction of greeting him, and dropped into the lap of my welcoming, smiling Stepan. Sometimes I’d catch Aleksei watching me as I danced for Stepan, and I’d hold his gaze, spitefully moving my body in slow, seductive sways, until he clenched his jaw and looked away.

It hurt. Even though I covered it with anger, it hurt when he looked away. It felt like he was disgusted with me, not only for being a dancer, but for dancing for Stepan. For succumbing to his advances and letting him touch me so much more intimately than before we started dating. I even felt that maybe I was the one that was disgusted with myself, for letting Aleksei touch me like that, so many weeks ago.

But what the fuck did he expect of me? Stepan was doing everything right. He was the one who made me feel worthy and valued.

It came to a point, one night, when Aleksei was there without Stepan, doing whatever his duty was, and pulled me into the empty dressing room.

“You need to stop,” he said darkly, still holding my arm and looking down at me fiercely.

“Stop what?” I asked, crossing my arms and throwing my hip out defiantly.

“Making it so fucking obvious. If you keep teasing me, if you keep looking my way, Stepan will become suspicious. And trust me, it won’t take much suspicion for him to dig a little deeper and then slice both of our throats.”

I barked out a laugh. “Like you care, Aleksei. I don’t even know why you’re here. It’s obvious that you don’t want to be, so just leave!”

“I can’t,” he said through gritted teeth.

I closed my eyes and sighed. “I don’t give a shit what your job description is, just leave me alone, okay?”

I tried to leave, but he pulled me back, staring down at me with that intensity, his thick chest heaving with emotion. I glared at him angrily as I watched him gather his self-control, then I ripped my arm from his tight grip and walked away.

Chapter6

Aleksei

Every night I watched Isabel dancing, rolling her hips around, bobbing and swaying, I knew it was for me. Not because she was flirting, oh no. Because she was being spiteful. I could see it in her fiery, burning eyes.

She was offended that I’d pushed her away weeks ago. And I fucking wished that she knew how much strength it took me to do that.

I couldn’t do anything to stop this tension or her spite or the knots that formed in my gut every time she looked at me like she hated me. I had to be there, whether Stepan was there or not. I couldn’t even decide which was worse—when he was there and she danced in his lap—or when he wasn’t, and she slid down that pole with her eyes on me, knowing I couldn’t touch her. Or, wouldn’t, touch her.

It was goddamn torture. All I wanted was to take her home, remove all the glitter and restrictive lingerie, and be with her alone. Naked. Touching her and kissing her. To show her what sexuality was really about—a connection of the souls, without all this money, sweat, and alcohol. It left a bad taste in my mouth, and I wished I could take her away from all of it.

It had been about two weeks since I had pulled her aside to ask her to stop her spiteful shit. She had calmed down somewhat, perhaps forgetting I was even there. Maybe she’d moved on and actually did develop true feelings for him. It was what I needed from her—for us to survive—but Jesus Christ, it was not what I wanted. When she did look my way, I couldn’t tell if it was pain or hatred in her eyes. But it didn’t matter. It couldn’t matter.

I was standing in the back corner, in the shadows, trying to keep myself unseen and unheard—as a bodyguard should be—when I saw fucking Boris get a little handsy with Isabel.

“Now, you listen to me,” he said, holding her arm and pointing his fat finger in her defiant face. “You will give a private dance to that man over there, because so help me God, if you start losing me customers, you’ll be out on the goddamn street—”

“What was that, Boris?” I asked, pushing between the two of them. Neither of them had seen me coming, and while Isabel looked away in annoyance, it seemed to me the color drained from the manager’s face. “Something about putting Isabel on the goddamn street?” I leaned in close, bending down to his level, breathing heavily against his face.

“I can’t run a business like this!” He yelled at me. I felt the light spray of his spit against my cheek, and I drew in a calming breath.

“Alek—” Isabel said, pulling at my upper arm, though it didn’t even budge me. “I can handle this myself! This is my place of work! I will deal with it!”

---