Page 2 of Plus-Size Bratva Possession (Vadim Bratva #12)

Yet again, I found myself back at Enigma. There was once a time when I looked down on frequent visitors of establishments such as this, wondering if they had no work or life outside of seeking hedonistic pleasure. Once.

But I no longer found a cause to play judge or jury, not when I too had become one of such people.

I took another sip of my drink and leaned back in my chair to watch the people around me enjoying their night.

How I wish I could have been that carefree.

But even now, the music, the bass, the dancing, none of it worked to silence the thoughts that ran through my mind twenty-four seven.

It had been six months since Larissa chose him—a fucking Lebedev—over her own blood.

She humiliated me in a manner I never expected when she turned down my order to return home. Larissa, my own flesh and blood, the sister who became my world from the moment she entered this world, loved him more than she did me.

Family was everything in our world, I believed. Until she proved it wasn't.

I was now fueled by six months of rage, and no matter how hard I tried, I couldn’t find an outlet for this rage outside of nights like this.

Back home and at work, my brothers started showing impatience with my changing moods.

But when I hit the town every night, I had the privilege of being anyone I wanted, the chance to forget about Larissa’s betrayal.

Some nights, I lost myself in the arms of a woman; on others, I drank myself into a drunken stupor.

Enigma was my sanctuary tonight. No woman has been draped across my lap so far.

Tonight had the makings of an easy night.

So far, it was just me and my fourth, or maybe fifth, whiskey.

The pounding music made thinking harder, though, of course, I still thought.

But there was a chance that a couple of more drinks and my men might have to carry me out.

It was exactly what I needed.

I glanced down at my phone. Another missed call from Carlo. My younger brother had been relentless lately, trying to broker some bullshit peace between us and the Lebedevs. As if I'd ever find peace with the family that had stolen my sister and made me look weak in front of all of New York.

“Fuck that,” I muttered, pocketing the phone without returning the call.

The waitress approached with another drink. I nodded my thanks, and she gave me a coy little smile I ignored. Women had been easy distractions these past months. Different face, different body every other night. But even that had grown stale.

The drinking, though, still helped. Not enough to make me forget, but enough to blur the edges.

I ran a hand through my hair, pushing it back from my face.

My knuckles still bore the bruises from last week when I'd put one of my own men in the hospital for suggesting we should “move on” from the Lebedev situation.

Move on? Like, my sister having birthed the child of my enemy was something to just accept?

I closed my eyes, remembering the day we discovered Larissa was missing.

The way my blood had frozen at the news.

I'd mobilized every soldier, called in every favor, turned the city upside down looking for her.

And all for what? To find out, she didn't want to be rescued.

That she'd fallen in love with her captor?

Stockholm syndrome, I'd told myself at first. She needed time, therapy maybe. I'd been so fucking understanding. I had offered to accept her child if she returned home.

But she refused. Wanted to raise it with him, under their roof.

Those damn Lebedevs.

I downed the fresh whiskey in one burning gulp.

Carlo and Dino, my younger brothers, had gone to the fucking baby shower. A baby shower . With the Lebedevs. Like we were one big happy family.

Carlo called me afterward, excited about being an uncle, telling me how Larissa had asked about me, how she missed me.

Missed me? She was the one who left. She was the one who betrayed everything I built for us, for her.

Another drink appeared. I hadn't even noticed the last was gone.

The club was alive around me, the hour growing late. Beautiful people were scattered across every corner of the club, dancing, drinking, and making merry.

I envied them their simple pleasures.

I continued to watch the crowds when my eyes landed on a curvaceous goddess with luscious brunette locks, so different from the trying-too-hard modelesque figures around, in a burgundy dress that wrapped around her like sin.

I sat up straighter, watching as she moved closer… and closer…

For once, I stopped thinking about Larissa and found myself wondering who she was. The way she moved those hips, it was like she owned this whole damn place, like she had fire in her veins and a confidence that showed it.

So, when she got closer and her face got clearer to my sight, I felt myself freeze.

What the hell was a Lebedev doing here, in my club? Well, not my club, but you know what I mean.

I recognized her instantly. Elena. She was the second youngest, I believe, at twenty-five. My hands instinctively moved toward the gun holstered beneath my jacket.

“Don't bother,” she said, sliding uninvited into the booth across from me. “If you were going to shoot me, you'd have done it the moment you saw my face.”

Her voice was low, confident. I hated how she had the audacity to act like we were friends. I kept my face impassive, but let go of the gun, even though rage bubbled up like acid in my veins.

“What the hell do you want?” I glowered at her.

She leaned forward, and I got a better look at her. Dark brown hair fell in waves past her shoulders, and her eyes, hazel, seemed full of light. With her lips painted red and a skin that glowed with life, she looked positively beautiful in a real way.

I hated that I noticed.

“I'm here because someone needs to knock some sense into you,” she said, her eyes flashing with defiance. “Your sister just had a baby, and you're here drowning yourself in whiskey and self-pity instead of being there for her.”

My hand tightened around my glass so hard I thought it might shatter. “You've got a lot of nerve talking about my family.”

“And you've got a lot of nerve calling yourself a brother when you've abandoned her over your stupid pride,” she shot back.

I scowled. “Is that what you think? That this is about pride? Your brother took my sister right from under our noses. In any other circumstances, he'd be dead, and your entire family with him.”

Elena raised her eyebrows and threw me a look one might give a little child. “We both know it didn't stay that way. They fell in love. It happens. Even to people like us.”

“People like us,” I repeated, leaning forward. “There is no 'us,' Ms. Lebedev. There's my family, and there's yours. And yours has been a thorn in my side for too long.”

“And yet here we are,” she said, gesturing between us. “Your sister and my brother are raising a family now. Whether you like it or not, we are connected.”

I studied her, trying to understand her angle. What the hell made her walk up to me, to think she could change my mind? The audacity of it all.

“Your brother sends you to do his dirty work?” I scowled in her direction.

She rolled her eyes. “Nobody sent me. I came because Larissa is heartbroken that you never visit or call. Do you know she cries after every family gathering because you're not there?”

Something twisted in my chest. I pushed it down, hard. “Don’t try to manipulate me.”

“It's not manipulation if it's the truth,” she said, her voice softening just slightly. “Look, I get it. You hate us. Fine. But this isn't about the Ajellos and the Lebedevs anymore. This is about a baby who deserves to know her uncle.”

Her uncle. My niece. Of course, I thought of her often. When very drunk, I sometimes asked Carlo and Dino to tell me of their visits to see the baby. I was curious to know who she looked like, if she was healthy. If she slept well or cried through the night.

I took another drink, using the moment to collect myself. She was getting under my skin, and I couldn't allow that. I wasn’t prepared to let the child be used as leverage against my beliefs. No matter what.

And then, as I watched Elena sit in front of me, an idea began to form in my mind. I set my glass down carefully and schooled my features into something resembling reasonability.

“Maybe you're right,” I said, watching surprise flicker across her face. “Maybe it's time we had a real conversation about this situation.”

She blinked, clearly not expecting this response. “Really?”

“Really,” I said, sliding out of the booth and standing. “But not here. It’s too loud. Maybe we can talk somewhere…quiet?”

She hesitated, just a little.

“I'm not going anywhere alone with you,” she said.

I gestured around the club. “We're hardly alone. I just want to talk somewhere quieter.”

I could see her weighing her options. The fact that she'd approached me alone meant she was either incredibly brave or incredibly foolish. Maybe both. And something told me she was going to make that same mistake again.

“Fine,” she finally said, standing. “Lead the way.”

As we walked through the club, I noticed at least two men watching her—bodyguards, no doubt, but keeping a distance.

Idiots. They should never have let her get this close to me in the first place.

I guided her through the dance floor until I was certain we were out of view, knew that the bodyguards would think we went to the bar or something, and led her toward the back stairs.

But instead of going up to the private lounges for conversation, I steered her down a hallway that ended in a service door to the alley out back.

She was saying something behind me, but I hardly ever registered a word, too focused on my plans. The Lebedevs had taken something precious from me. Perhaps it was time I returned the favor.