Page 1 of The Tsar’s Obsession (Bratva Sinners #1)

Heaven

Kirill

New York. The dream for so many. Money, power, sex. You could find it all here.And it was a whole universe away from where I was born—a forgotten Russian village with wooden houses, no roads, and no future.

So, I built the future. Now, I ruled the underworld. I wasn’t just Pakhan; I was The Tsar of the Bratva. Untouchable. Feared. Wealthier than I’d ever imagined. I had it all.

Almost.

Neither money nor power comes into the hands of the clean and innocent, and what I had—what I was —would make me the devil’s guest of honor.

She didn’t know that though. She was clean and innocent. And she was the missing ingredient. Missing from my life.

I lived by an unshakeable principle—desire meant nothing; I had to own it. And I didn’t just want her; I was blindly obsessed for almost a decade.

Nine years. It took nine years to get to her. I tore through blood, lies, and bodies to get to the top. The money, power, and respect were just a bonus.

The Brunello Cucinelli shirt on my back was a far cry from the one sweater I clung to at the tender age of nine, homeless, surviving on the streets. My Bratva tattoos lay hidden beneath the soft fabric, the only proof of how deep I descended into darkness to get here.

Today my bank accounts bled dollars, pounds, and euros, and men bowed their heads when I entered the room.

I didn’t just survive. I conquered.

How could I, a small, young, weak boy—beaten into pulp by my alcoholic father—stand here, in the richest city in the world?

I did it. I achieved it.

Kirill Alekseev. A name no one remembered back then. A name no one dared forget now.

I stood at the window of this New York skyscraper looking down at the busy city from my height and knew that nothing, absolutely nothing, would stand in my way of getting what I wanted.

And it was finally time to take what was mine. I wanted her, whether she felt the same way eventually or not. I would claim her. She would be my prize, my possession.

My forever obsession.

Nine years was a long time to lust after someone, but I spent every second with purpose. Now, I owned a few banks, had half the Russian government in my pocket, spoke English fluently, changed my ways, altered my business, and pivoted in the right direction.

But nine years ago, I was a different man—one who didn’t just spill blood. I bathed in it.

It was a random summer Saturday night, a few minutes before midnight, and another drink had just landed in my hand when I scanned the dance floor of my newest nightclub, Heaven.

This wasn’t just a club—it was a whole universe. A complex network of relationships that were built in the VIP sections situated around the perimeter of the dance floor. The biggest one was mine, strategically picked to have a perfect overview of the dance floor and bar .

Not only did it become the hottest club within a matter of weeks, but it was also the perfect spot to butter up coke dealers from various regions. We were the authority now, and they all came to see us.

Dmitry, my lifelong partner, floated between the group of men we were entertaining , and in the middle of my conversation about how much blow I was about to deliver, I spotted her .

She was young, cute—enticing. I didn’t do cute. In fact, I didn’t do feelings. I got bored easily and wanted new entertainment every week. Girls were just for fun; they were never to be taken seriously, never to be trusted, never to be indulged in.

But this …this I indulged in.

In a sea of dancing bodies, she stood out—called out to me—like a mirage, a siren song, an apparition. Carefree. Sexy. A sweet young girl who glowed with warmth and positivity. Just effortlessly gorgeous.

How the hell did they let her into my club in her ripped jeans, white T-shirt, and converse? In fact, what the hell was she doing here at all?

She was free; I could almost see it around her, like a halo.

I wasn’t. I wasn’t free. I was trapped and deeply entangled in a dark web of crime, digging my heels further in with every passing year. I was rising to the top, asserting my power, beginning my rule with an iron fist, and…I was also miserable.

She was happy, enjoying her night, not vying for anyone’s attention.

She was simply there to have a good time.

Club lights bounced off her long, dark blonde hair and illuminated all her features: soft, smooth skin, crimson lips, and her smile .

Her smile. Joy and positivity radiated off her in waves, each one drowning me further.

“Kirill, we have to agree on the price.” Dmitry half growled in my ear, but my eyes and mind were with her a few long strides away. All of me was with that young woman—the antidote to all the darkness inside me. “Or else all this has been for naught.”

His worries meant nothing to me when I physically couldn’t rip my eyes away from this…this angel . I was about to fuck up this deal, but I seemed to have lost all care in the world.

“Ivan! That one,” I commanded one of my security guys and pointed toward her without shame. “Find out who she is and who she came with.” Without question, he went to fulfill my request and, after only a minute, returned with an annoying and disappointing message.

“She’s an American tourist here with her university group. Doesn’t really speak Russian. They’re here on some language and culture trip.” What a kick in the balls. She didn’t speak my language, and I sure as hell didn’t speak hers.

My mind buzzed with a thousand thoughts. I could get her up here, to my VIP section, but that would scare her to death. I could–

But then it happened. She threw her hair to the side, that luscious mane falling around her shoulders and neck, and for a moment, we made eye contact. She caught me staring and paused, returning the same energy—her eyes piercing mine like daggers. Yes, she noticed.

I watched her. Enjoyed her. Instantly fucking powerless.

“Kirill, brother, just give them this. They’re not asking for much, just a five percent increase from their previous allegiances!” Dmitry tried to implore me again, his clean-shaved head coming into my peripheral vision.

With my heart pummeling the inside of my ribcage, I zoned back into my dark reality, still locked in a staring contest with her.

“No. It’s either my way or death. Make sure they walk away with that understanding tonight.

” I threw the words out but stepped closer to the dance floor, testing her reaction.

Dmitry’s lack of response was a clear answer that he wasn’t happy, but that was the least of my concerns. My main focus, all my life energy and attention, were on this girl. This angel who descended to my level of hell. Surely, she must have lost her way. What was she doing here ?

A real angel in my dark Heaven.

My infatuation was irrevocable, my interest alarming, and her presence here—dangerous for me. It was a paradox. I was the danger—there wasn’t anything or anyone more threatening than me—and yet, my hands were clammy.

Good God, was I…was I nervous? !

The young woman didn’t look away. In a second, her doe eyes turned sultry, that little devious smile growing wider.

Slowly, her hands traveled up her body, from her hips to the dip of her waist. She was putting on a show just for me.

Her white t-shirt rode up slightly, revealing her belly button and sending my ferocious desire into overdrive.

“It’s not the time–” Dmitry’s voice sounded in my ear as my insides boiled at what I was witnessing.

Higher, her fingers slid over what I imagined were the perkiest, most desirable tits on the planet, “–to turn them down. We need their network!” Her hands settled on her long and kissable neck, and she watched my reaction before delivering the death blow.

The unforgettable vixen who lured me into her game slipped her tongue between her index and middle fingers, making it painfully clear what she wanted—and what I was desperate to give her.

With a wide smile, she winked and turned away. “Do you understand?” I heard Dmitry’s voice again, but I understood nothing.

Within a few seconds of seeing her, I was nothing . A man who submitted gangs, annihilated competition, and usurped power from the elder leaders. A man who killed and robbed, lied and manipulated, who just got out of prison last year.

I was broken inside; I knew that very well, and I somehow ended up within a few meters of a literal goddess, the princess of virtue and holiness.

An entire inferno lit up inside me, shutting down all my logical thoughts. I was drunk, not on the vodka, but on the sight of her tongue between her fingers. I could barely keep my eyes open after watching her do that—for me. I had to have her. I had to get to her.

It was now or never.

“Kirill?” I heard my name somewhere behind me because my legs were already carrying me to her. My eyesight rendered me blind to the chaotic rave around me—I could only see her. And she…well, she held my gaze without question. Without fear. With provocation.

Time stood still—there was only her, and everything else was a void. There was no more blasting music; there was no more grimy club floor beneath my feet. There was no more Kirill Alekseev, rising Bratva leader. I was paralyzed, and she wielded all the power.

“Hi!”

Oh shit, that’s right, she was a foreigner. Of course, that made perfect sense. That’s how she ended up in this club—that’s why she flirted with me so carelessly, not having any idea who occupied that VIP booth.

I stayed silent, feasting my eyes on the sight of her angelic facial features, getting a hint of her scent. Fuck. She smelled like cotton candy: sweet and mouthwatering. I wanted to take a bite—bury my face in the crook of her neck and taste her, suffocate on her.

“U tebya,” her accent was thick, “ ochen…horoshie glaza?” She asked if I had good eyes, and I couldn’t stop my joyous smile.

When was the last time I felt joy? “No, it’s ugh…

krasivie? Beautiful? How do you say that again?

” Her long black eyelashes swooshed up, and then she pinned me to the ground with all the fucking tease that her hazel eyes threw my way.

“Krasivie,” I confirmed with a nod. At this moment, I realized that it was over for me.

I knew perfectly well that I would never be able to get this girl out of my head.

In an instant, she’d settled there, moved in with all her belongings, and she wasn’t planning to pay rent.

No, she already owned the fucking place.

“U tebya ochen krasivie glaza!” She was so proud of her efforts, her smile pure and light. Light, she was light . Before I could even react to her words, the softest and warmest little hand snuck into mine and, without hesitation, tugged me closer.

“You’re so cute! In a murderous kinda way.” The devastatingly beautiful girl slightly shook her head, that smile sending my soul into turmoil. “Come! Come dance with me!”

And just like that, she took control and pulled me further into her, guiding my hands to land on her waist, choking me on my own breath.

We swayed, lost in oblivion.

She was divine, and I was damned. She was life, and I was death’s messenger. She was a breath of fresh air, while I reeked of blood money. She was clean, pure—untouched by darkness—while I was drowning in sin, filthy to my very core.

“Kak tebya zovut?” I blurted out, asking for her name, suddenly petrified that our meeting was fleeting.

“Mia! A tebya?” She returned the question slyly, but before I could open my mouth, someone tugged on her arm.

“We have to go.” The intruder informed her in Russian, pulling her away.

“Podozhdi!” As if latching onto a life raft, my hand closed around her wrist, and I commanded her to wait, having absolutely no plan. With a satisfied smirk, she turned back, crushing her lips into mine and shocking me with her bravery.

Oh. No.

This wasn’t a kiss; it was a fucking death sentence. This was her enslaving me, breaking me, taking away all my power. On instinct, I pressed her hot, sweaty, delicious body into mine and drowned in the sweetest sensation.

This was an abyss. Bottomless. “Mmm!” With her arms around my neck, our kiss deepened, turning desperate, needy, and wild.

My tongue tasted hers—slow, deliberate, and charged with need. Her fingers tangled in my hair, amplifying the moment. I never wanted to let her go.

And I wouldn’t.

The joy and positivity she breathed into me turned me into an addict. I wanted this. Her. I wanted it! And I always got what I wanted.

But she broke the kiss and stepped away, about to make her escape with a little giggle. No, I needed more; I craved more. I would die if I didn’t get more!

Mia was a tall girl, but no match for me.

No match for my need and desire for her.

I was strong, I dominated, and I was the boss.

I didn’t care about the consequences of my actions—that was for others, not me.

So I immediately pulled her back in, squishing her against me, trapping her, and tasting her once more.

She had no idea whose eye she caught. What could be the harm, right? A momentary attraction to a handsome stranger sealed with a hot kiss. But neither of us knew that those few seconds of intense rapture decided both our fates.

As if coming up for air, she pulled back and plunged her teeth into my bottom lip, the tip of her nose grazing mine.

“Mmm…” she hummed against my lips, both of us gasping for air. I held her close, taking in that divine smell of her skin. “Your lips are so soft. Maybe I’ll see you again one day? Don’t let me go next time.”

I heard the words, not understanding anything. Except that her hands touched my cheeks one last time, and she unraveled my obedient arms away from her. With one last devious look that would forever burn into my memory, Mia disappeared out of my sight and out of the club.

I knew I’d see her again—deep down, I was certain. Mia haunted my dreams and warped my reality, rendering every other woman irrelevant. She was my destiny, and she would be mine, no matter what it took.

Nine years. It took nine years.