Sinful Blaze (Chekhov Bratva Book 1)

I don’t know what sort of “business” Pasha does in the middle of the night. I’m not sure I want to know.

What I do know is that, whatever it is, it compels him to come home and sit on the bed next to me for a while.

He never says anything. Never touches me. He just sits there, assumes I’m sleeping, and stares off into the dark.

Last night was one of those nights. He sat down next to me, sighed, and gazed at the wall for a while. I didn’t say anything, too afraid to break whatever spell had him bewitched. Then he got up, went into the bathroom, and took a shower before heading off to sleep on the couch.

This morning, he insisted on taking me to work himself. No special occasion, and my guards were perfectly capable of doing it themselves. But Pasha calmly stated this was happening, ushered me into the car an hour earlier than I usually leave, and took us to the drive-thru for a vitamin smoothie and pastry.

He seemed on edge. I asked him about it, but he just forced a smile and shook his head.

“It’s nothing,” he said. “Really.”

“Is it anything I did?”

He turned to look at me. “No. Why would you think that?”

I shrugged. “I don’t know. I just worry.”

“Don’t. You’re fine. We’re fine.” He sighed. “I just have this feeling that something’s up.”

I get what he means. Sometimes, I feel like something bad is going to happen. That someone is about to ruin things right when it’s all been so wonderful.

I feel that almost every day.

It’s sitting in my stomach while I sip down the last of my smoothie. That feeling of foreboding, like someone is about to walk into my office and break some terrible news.

Or—as it turns out to happen—Conrad’s face appearing in the doorway.

“Hey, NayNay!”

Oh, dear Lord… I try not to choke on the straw and set the cup down. “Um, hey there. Are you looking for Todd? Or Keith?”

Conrad shakes his head, still grinning. “I’m here to see you.”

Fuck.

I straighten out my dress as I stand. Thank God I chose the dark blue, cowl neck sweater style that goes below my knees and just meets the tops of my boots. Absolutely nothing about this outfit can send him mixed signals.

“I didn’t see a meeting on the calendar.” I take a glance at my laptop screen just to make sure. “Actually, we’re not scheduled until⁠—”

He cuts me off with a dismissive wave of his hand. “I was in the neighborhood. Had some ideas for the gallery placement and wanted to run them by you. Do you have some time?”

I have to admit, I’m taken by surprise at how professional he’s being. I never expect anyone to change overnight, but damn, can I hope. “Oh. Uh, sure. I can spare a few minutes, I think.”

His grin widens. Conrad holds the door open for me, giving me plenty of space to walk through without brushing past him.

“I found a few pieces that I’d love to feature in this new show, ones that I put aside as rejects but now, I’m having second thoughts.” He gestures at one wall of the showroom the moment we step inside. “The response at the last showing really favored similar themes and palettes, so this may be a great way to save time while refreshing interest.”

The petty side of me wants to ask him if he’s painting a new abstract nude. The rest of me doesn’t want to know either way. “How many are you looking to bring out for this section?”

“About five or six.” He turns to smile at me. “What do you think?”

“Depending on the size of each canvas, we should be able to make that work.”

“You’re always good at that.”

“Huh?” Shit. He’s giving me The Eyes now. Those same puppy-dog eyes that he’d give when he wanted to convince me of something, like, How could I ever cheat on you? Is this the face of a man who’d step out on you?

Why, yes, asshole. It is.

Conrad steps closer to me, so I take a step back. He does it again, and again, all the while cooing his compliments at me. “You. Your brilliant mind. You always know how to make things work, even when they shouldn’t. Like us.”

I hold a hand up to keep him from coming any closer. “There is no ‘us.’ Unless you mean it in terms of this gallery⁠—”

“You and me, ‘Ne. Us. We can make this work. You always make it work out in the end.”

“There is nothing to work out, Sidney,” I spit. “We’re done. You left.”

“I’m back.” He moves even closer, not stopping until I feel my back press against the wall. “I’m right here. I’m here and I want you.”

My heart is in my throat. Conrad has never been outwardly aggressive toward me; he never gave me enough priority in his life to care enough either way.

But right now, he’s looking at me with this glint in his eye that makes me very, very nervous.

“You need to back up.”

“We need to work things out.”

He wraps his hands around my waist the same time he leans in. Then he pauses and looks down. “Hell, Daphne. You’ve put on some weight.”

“It’s literally none of your business. Back. The hell. Off.”

It’s like he doesn’t hear me. Like he’s in a totally different universe from the one where I’m trying to push him away. His grin turns into a smirk, and he has the balls to wink at me. “We can work that weight off, baby. Don’t you worry.”

I’m done playing nice. I’m also terrified that he’s about to do something to hurt my baby. How did it even get to this point? We haven’t been in this room for more than ten minutes.

I shove hard against his chest. “I mean it. Get off! Get the hell off!”

“Fuck, baby…” His voice purrs in this sickening way when his hands slide up to cup the sides of my breasts. “I take that back. You feel fucking incredible now.”

I try to swallow back my whimper of fear, but there’s no hiding it. Conrad hears it, and clearly mistakes it for something that indicates I’m enjoying this.

“I know you need to punish me.” He presses himself against me despite my desperate attempts to shove him away. “I want you to punish me. Make me work hard for it, baby. I deserve it.”

I pull a hand back to swing at his face, fully intending to slap that horrible glaze of lust out of his eyes. But he grabs my wrist and pins it to the wall. The same thing happens when I try with my other hand, until I’m nearly crushed under his weight and his breath fans along my neck.

“That’s it. Fight me. Make me earn it. Make me earn you.”

“Help!” I don’t care anymore—I don’t care if Todd or Keith or Hazel find me like this, with Conrad, as long as they can put a stop to it. I’m so fucking scared of what this man is going to do and all I can think about is my baby and Pasha and what if. “Somebody help me!”

“Shhhh, relax.” Conrad releases one of my wrists so he can grab my face and hold me there, right where he wants to kiss me. I shake my head furiously, but he only tightens his grip to the point where it’s actually painful. “I just want some time with you, baby. We deserve some time together, after everything.”

I should knee him. I try, but my stupid dress is in the way. And he’s got me so trapped between himself and the wall, I’m lucky I can even kick my feet.

Irritation flickers across his face. But he doesn’t let that stop him. Conrad holds me there, a knowing smirk curling his lips, and he moves to press them against mine in a kiss I swear is going to make me throw up.

A familiar set of manicured nails wrap over his shoulder.

And in one swift motion, Conrad is ripped off me.

“The fuck is going on here?” Sofiya wedges herself between us. I can’t see her face, but her entire body is simmering with rage.

“This is between Daphne and me.” Now, Conrad is officially pissed off. He steps forward and reaches out to push Sofi aside, his gaze set squarely on me.

Again, Sofi grabs him, but this time, it’s for leverage. Her hands grip both his shoulders so she can deliver a knee to his groin hard enough to crush his testicles into baking powder.

His eyes bug out of his head the same time his lungs emit a high-pitched wheezing sound. When he doubles over, Sofi takes the opportunity to uppercut his chin, snapping his head back and making him bite his tongue with enough force that blood starts trickling between his lips.

The man crumples to the floor. Bloody, wheezing, and curled up in the fetal position cradling what’s left of his nuts.

“Are you okay?”

I don’t know what I was expecting, to be honest. Since it sure as hell wasn’t this, I wonder if part of me figured Sofi would assume the worst and accuse me of cheating on her brother.

Instead, she’s looking at me with sympathy and concern, stepping over Conrad like he’s not even there just so she can cradle my face in her hands and check me for injuries. “Are you hurt? Did he hurt you?”

“Fucking! Bitch!” Conrad gathers enough of his wits to scream at her. “You’re crazy! You crazy bitch!”

Something passes through her eyes, like she’s decided to hold back from something and chooses to focus on me instead. “Talk to me, Daph. Did he hurt you?”

I don’t realize I’m literally trembling until I try to answer her question. “N-no. N-not… yet.”

That something pulls a reverse and settles itself in her expression. It’s the same something I’ve seen in Pasha right before he does something particularly heinous against a perceived enemy.

Behind her, Conrad slowly wobbles up to his feet. Blood and spittle flies from his mouth as he points an accusatory finger at her. “This is none of your business! I’ll have you arrested!”

Something about the way he threatens her snaps me out of my shock. And my fear. Now, I’m the one standing between him and his new target, even though she grabs my arm to keep me back.

“I told you to get the hell out!” I thrust my finger toward the door. “Leave me the fuck alone!”

“But, Daphne⁠—”

“You heard my sister-in-law.” Sofi loops her arm with mine as she joins me at my side. “Leave her the fuck alone. Now.”

Conrad freezes. Blinks at her. Then at me. “What?” The word sounds like she kneed him in the dick all over again. “You’re married? You… you can’t be married. You can’t! You can’t marry someone else! We’re supposed to be together!”

He is so delusional, I’m literally almost laughing at his blind audacity. Or trying not to cry. Probably both.

“You left, asshole! You cheated on me, and you threw me out of my own goddamn home! And then, just to make things extra special, you proposed to another woman right in front of me! So no! We are not, in any way, getting back together!”

Is there a difference between delusional and unhinged? We may be witnessing the transition between the two, because Sidney Conrad Ewing is extremely not well. He runs his hands through his hair over and over, glancing around the floor with a wild, unfocused look in his eyes.

“I don’t… It all went so wrong. I made a mistake.” He meets my gaze and tries to reach for me. “I made a mistake. I never should have left you. It was a mistake, proposing to her.”

Sofi swats his hand away. “You made your bed. Now, go die in it.”

Conrad glances between us. “I… I thought… I thought you were punishing me. All the silence, the avoidance, pushing me away… How could you go and marry someone else?”

This time, he lunges for me.

And this time, Sofi simply snaps her fingers.

Four men in tailored suits materialize out of nowhere. Two of them grab Conrad by the arms while the other two create a human wall between him and us.

“Daphne! Daphne!” Conrad screams my name like a madman, his face bright red. No amount of struggling is going to free him from these behemoths, no matter how hard he tries. Sofi’s two guards drag him out of the room as easily as if he’s limp. By the time they pass the threshold, he is.

Todd and Keith burst onto the scene just in time to see Conrad get physically dragged away. Their gazes simultaneously fall on the blood trail and follow it across the room to where I’m standing with Sofi—who braces her hands on her hips in full preparation for war.

“Are you the owners of this establishment?” she demands.

“You better believe we are!” Keith is fuming. “And we are going to sue the pants off of you and your little entourage for threatening our client!”

She laughs. “Oh, really? You’re going to sue me?”

“Listen, lady, you can’t just come in here and⁠—”

Again, she does that thing with her hand that tends to shut up every asshole we ever encounter. “Oh, believe me, I absolutely can and I absolutely will. Just like how I will absolutely help Daphne file a very hefty lawsuit against you and your establishment for not only allowing a sexual predator to corner her and assault her, but encouraging it.” She looks to one of her remaining men. “What’s that called again, Sergei?”

“Facilitation, ma’am.”

“Ah, yes.” She turns back to The Tweedles with a sharkish grin. “Facilitation of sexual assault.”

Todd sputters. “We-we did n-not⁠—”

“Y-y-you d-d-didn’t?” Sofi mocks his fear, tilting her head to one side. “Who assigned him to her, huh? Who insisted that Daphne be forced to work with her stalker ex-boyfriend even after she told you her reasons for refusal? Who chose to ignore her screams for help not even five minutes ago?”

Neither of the brothers has an answer.

As for me, I’m more than speechless. I’m seeing Sofi in her element, and yet I have this feeling that she’s holding back.

She’s the cat playing with her food before going in for the kill.

“If you plan on keeping your money and your company, I highly recommend you stick to your own business and remove your nose from Daphne’s. I will be escorting her to lunch, and you will be ensuring she is comfortable when she returns. That might not be until tomorrow, and you will be perfectly fine with that. You don’t want to be the two assholes who forced a traumatized woman to work the same day she was assaulted on your property under your watch, do you?”

The Tweedles shake their heads. They also can’t move fast enough, scrambling for the closest exit.

Sofi sighs, rolls her eyes, and turns to me. “I’m dead serious, Daph. If either of those two threaten your job after this, we will take them to the cleaners. Fucking ridiculous.”

I don’t know what to say. I’m not used to having someone look out for me like this. At least, no one but Melanie, but even then, I’m usually the one always looking out for her.

She walks with me out of the showroom and through the gallery, our arms looped together like the sisters she suddenly claimed us to be. Talking about, Where we should go for lunch; what is her little niece craving? Since we have the day ahead of us, should we go to the mall? Have I checked out the baby store near Nordstrom’s?

It’s right when we finally reach the main doors that I find my tongue again. “What did you mean by ‘sister-in-law’? Pasha and I aren’t married.”

“Yet.” She grins and winks at me. “That’s the operative word, Daph. Yet. If you think he’s going to let you go, that he’s not in it for the long haul, then you haven’t been paying attention.”

Something warm and wonderful blooms inside me. I shouldn’t think of him this way, or of our relationship as anything other than what it is. And I don’t even know what it is because we’ve never outright talked about it.

But damn, is it hard not to imagine what it’d be like to be Pasha’s wife.

To be Sofi’s sister-in-law.

And—especially when I take in the sight of Asya leaning against the waiting car, beaming at us—what it’d be like to have a mother-in-law like her.

“There’s my beautiful girls!” Asya finishes wiping her hand with a handkerchief before she extends her arms out for a hug. “Look at you, my sweet Daphne! You’re glowing!”

“And you’re bleeding.” I stare at the fabric speckled with blood, as well as the few spots still on the back of her hand.

“Oh. It’s not mine.” She laughs it off, stuffing the fabric into her wristlet. “Anyway, where are we thinking of going for lunch?”

“Baby’s hungry for tempura, apparently.” Sofi opens the door for me with a playful wink. “What my niece wants, my niece gets.”

“Are you sure you’re okay?” I quietly ask Asya.

She pats my cheek lovingly and simply smiles. “We’re family, solnyshka. Family looks after each other. Anyone lays a hand on mine, I snap his head off.” She smiles at Sofi and opens her own door to get in. “Tempura sounds delicious!”