Page 3 of Bratva Queen

The following night, I did a little better. I still wasn’t nearly as good of a dancer as the other women, but I was a lot better than my previous night, reciting the mental notes I’d made to loosen my hips and let them sway. A fumbling mess—yes. But I was improving, which was enough to please Boris.

A week later, as I prepped for my performance—adding a bit of body glitter to my skin, pulling my boobs up to sit seductively in their black sequined cups—a few of the girls giggled and pointed from behind the curtain of the dressing room.

“That’s them,” one of the girls whispered.

Cocking my head to the side, I stood from my chair to see what all the fuss was about. “Who?”

“The bratva.”

I rolled my eyes, not believing that any man out there was in the bratva. Why the hell would a bratva man come here? They were supposed to be the richest, most extravagant and want-for-nothing kind of men. We were downtown, where there were strip clubs and children’s daycares in the same building. Of all the exotic clubs, wouldn’t one of the flashier ones in the city better suit their tastes?

“Which one’s the leader?” one of the girls asked—rather loudly—as she pushed her way to the front of the small group.

Another answered, “The sexy blond in the center.”

I glanced out from behind the curtain to see this “sexy blond” guy. Yeah, he was attractive, with bright blue eyes and soft wispy hair falling to the side of his forehead.

But very quickly, my eyes fell on the man beside him. A dark-haired man, standing with his hands folded in front of him and his chin held high. He was a thick man, with wide shoulders, bulky arms, and thighs that filled the black jeans he wore. With his strong jaw and jutting Adam’s apple, the ultra-masculine way he held his head up made my heart flutter. Even his hair was goddamn sexy, ruffled with not a care as to which direction it lay.

The entire group of men was watching us ladies eyeing them, but I felt his eyes burn into me, specifically. We locked gazes, and I saw his eyes darken. They narrowed slightly, and the muscle in his jaw popped. The blond leader must have said something because he broke his deathly stare to glance at him, then turned away to order a round of drinks without looking back.

My eyes followed him for a moment, then fell back onto the blond guy, who I quickly realized was watching me. While the other girls turned back into the room to finish their prepping, I saw him cast me a devilish smirk and raise his glass, enticing me to come to his table.

That night, luckily, I was on the pole anyway. The blond bratva man watched me all night, situated right in front of me with his legs wide and his eyes never straying from my slowly moving body. Instead of reaching out to touch me, he slid money onto the stage at my feet and watched me pick it up smoothly, either dropping down or bending over, with my ass held high. He didn’t hold back, the money I got from him that night was more than I’d gotten on any other night.

And that was just the start of it.

* * *

Another week passed,and I was really starting to get the hang of the job. Even if I didn’t feel turned on or particularly sexy, I’d learned how to act as though I did. I learned how to smolder my eyes, lower my voice, and move slowly—no matter what I was doing—walking, dancing, talking. Everything had to be slow and seductive.

The more effort I put into that, the more tips I received. Boris had officially asked me to start giving lap dances on the floor, and my income increased substantially.

When I got to the club one night, I was backstage prepping with the girls when Boris strutted into the room, brushing his way past topless women toward me. “Isabel, you have a customer requesting you for a dance.”

I groaned slightly, turning to face him. “Oh, please tell me it’s not Mr. Octopus again… He’s so grabby.” I pouted and the other girls giggled, knowing exactly what I meant.

“Wha—who? No, it’s Mr. Koslov.”

I heard gasps around me and turned to see my colleagues looking at me with excited eyes. “Mr. who?” I asked.

Boris didn’t have much patience for our feminine chit-chats. “Just hurry up and get out there. He’s asking for you and he doesn’t like to be kept waiting.”

When he led me to the table, I saw a familiar face and realized why the girls were so intrigued. It was the blond bratva guy. The apparent leader of one of the biggest crime organizations in Russia, the man who’d been watching me dance on stage every night for the past week.

He didn’t look so dangerous, sitting there with a casual smirk. I noticed for the first time—being off of the bright stage and under the dim lights of the club floor—that he had a single earring in his left ear. His hair flopped to the side as though he’d recently run his fingers through it, and his eyes… they were the lightest of blues. Like crystals.

Scattered about the club were three more familiar faces; his bodyguards dressed in all black. They’d been there every night as well, watching Mr. Koslov and everyone else in the club with lethal stares. I immediately looked toward the dark-haired man and saw him eyeing me critically. I couldn’t tell if he hated me or didn’t trust me or what the hell was going through his mind. All I knew was that he wasn’t the big boss; he wasn’t the one paying me hefty tips every night, so I had to break that stare and pass right by him, heading straight for the sexy blond guy instead.

The warnings my mama had given me flitted through my mind for a second, but the money he usually slid my way took precedence. So, I sauntered up close, smiled seductively, and leaned in.

“What can I do for you, stranger?”

Chapter2

Aleksei

As soon as she appeared from behind that red velvet curtain, her eyes found their way to me. As the right-hand man to Mr. Stepan Koslov, it was my job to vet every person that came near him. At least, that was what I told myself as my eyes dragged down her silky, lily-white body.

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