Sinful Blaze (Chekhov Bratva Book 1)

After the sexual and emotional whirlwind in Pasha’s office, I’d been having a good day.

Until now.

Now, my thoughts are stuck on a three-word loop as I stare in horror at the two silhouettes darkening my office door.

This isn’t happening.

This isn’t happening.

This cannot possibly be happening.

“Oh, Daphne. You look terrible.”

I force a polite smile and rub the bridge of my nose to ease the sudden, pulsing pressure of a headache coming on. “I’m fine, Mom.”

Ophelia throws her hands in the air as she paces around my office. “Clearly, you are anything but fine! You’re puffy, sweaty… How much weight have you gained?!”

“Gee, Mom, I can’t remember. Hold on while I check my prenatal records.” I shove a desk drawer shut just to feel it slam. “You know, because I’m pregnant.”

She turns on her heels to glare at Dad. “Stewart! Say something!”

“What do you want me to say?” he spits in disgust. “Our daughter is pregnant, unwed, and shacking up with some stranger. She’s going to do whatever the hell she wants.”

“I’m right here, you know, Dad.”

“Drugs.” Ophelia folds her arms with a definitive nod. “That’s what this is all about. Isn’t it, Daphne? You’re involved with drugs.”

I sigh. It feels like I could pass out from the weight of that exhale. “I have work to do, so…”

Neither of them takes the hint to leave the office. Fine. I’ll leave, then.

I grab a stack of folders, my tablet, and head for the door. Of course, they follow me.

“We can send you to rehab, honey.” Stewart tries to rest a hand on my shoulder, but I wriggle away. “There’s a beautiful facility in Switzerland that deals with women in your… delicate position.”

Hazel pops her head out of her office; her eyes widen when she sees us.

Guess who else sees us?

“For the hundredth time, Daphne, this is not a place for social calls!”

Todd storms out of his shared office, followed by Keith. They’re both glaring at me and eyeing my parents with disdain.

I bite my tongue. Keep calm and don’t commit double parricide, Daph. “I did not invite them here, Todd. They showed up without warning.”

“Maybe if you weren’t so… how should we say… ‘cavalier’ with your social life⁠—”

“Excuse me?”

Ophelia presses the back of her hand to her brow. “I have been telling her this for years, Mr. Bloom. We cannot have someone like her representing our family like this!”

Keith scoffs in agreement with her. “And we can’t have her representing our company like this! It’s utterly ridiculous.”

“It’s not too late, Daphne. There are options. We know a doctor in Manhattan⁠—”

I freeze.

Hazel slowly shakes her head at me. Don’t do it. Don’t lose your shit.

Too.

Fucking.

Late.

“What. Did. You. Say?” I slowly turn to face Ophelia.

She waves the same hand in front of her face. “Oh, for goodness’s sake, enough with the dramatics! I’m just trying to⁠—”

“You’re just trying to wipe away the last few months of my life so I can go back to being your precious fucking doll you can show off to your dumbass friends? The family whore you can pimp out to the highest bidder?”

Her mouth snaps shut.

Keith, however, doesn’t take the hint. “Listen to your mother, Daphne. This drama has no place in the workspace, and you’ve been nothing but difficult since you threw yourself at our client. I understand that hormones are raging right now, but you need to check those at the door.”

I turn on him next. He’s lucky I’m more worried about paying for a new wall than throwing him into it. “Shut the fuck up, Keith. You’re lucky I don’t take you to the cleaners for misogynistic practices and workplace bullying.”

Hazel claps a hand over her mouth. “Get him,” I hear her whisper behind her palm.

Todd holds a hand up to stop me. “If that’s how you feel, Daphne, then you can leave. Pack your things and go find employment elsewhere.”

I should. I really, really should. With every day that passes here, with every snub and snide comment I have to endure from these two Tweedling idiots, I’m more and more inclined to throw the towel in.

I’m just not sure I want that. Yet.

One thing I am completely certain about: I don’t want to spend another second trapped in this hellhole.

“How about this, Todd?” I straighten up. “I am going to leave for the day. I will be back tomorrow morning at ten. If you find a replacement half as good as me before then, I’ll turn in my resignation.”

“You can’t just⁠—”

“I mean, you’re welcome to fire me. I’ll just file claims for wrongful termination and make sure my lawyer starts the lawsuit for sexual harassment, trafficking, assault… Am I forgetting anything else? Hope not. Anyway—your call.”

Stewart clears his throat. “Don’t bank on empty threats, young lady. Our lawyer won’t⁠—”

“Oh, no, you misunderstand me.” I give him my sweetest smile. “I said my lawyer. I don’t need you anymore, Daddy.”

I shove through my shocked parents, smacking off Ophelia’s hand before she can make another grab for me.

I wish I could have a stiff drink.

Lord knows I need one.

“I promise, Daph, the mocktails here are to die for.” Sofi loops her arm through mine with a cheeky grin. “And once you’ve popped, we’ll come back for the real stuff.”

“Are we sure I can’t have the real stuff now?” I whimper. “I had a day.”

“Yeah, a day at the spa.” Hazel nudges me forward to the main entrance of the nightclub. “Not that I’m complaining. Always happy to risk my job for a hot stone massage.”

Sofi nods to the bouncer at the door, who unhooks the velvet rope and ushers us through. “Don’t worry about your job. Everything’s gonna work out great.”

“Yeah? And how do you know?”

Hazel may not clock Sofi’s hesitation, but I do. And when I glance at her, I see the same knowing smirk on her face that Pasha gets when he’s up to something.

“Trust the process, Haze,” she quips. Looping her arm through Hazel’s as well, she escorts us into the pulsing nightclub and straight to a VIP booth.

I glance around, expecting to see bouncers or bartenders coming at us for being in the wrong spot. This booth is decked to the nines for the elitest of the elite. “Are you sure we can be in here? It’s not reserved or anything?”

Sofi laughs. “Relax. This booth is reserved for the owner of the club.” She eases us onto the wraparound leather couch. “And that would be my brother.”

“Pasha?”

She shakes her head. “Makari. He got it through a… well, I guess you could call it a liquidation sale.”

I have a feeling there’s way more to the story than she’s telling us.

I also have the feeling that it’s Bratva-related. So I’m just gonna leave it where it is. “About those mocktails…”

Ten minutes later, we’re sipping our drinks and complaining about our bosses. Sofi has extra fun with her griping, milking the drama until Hazel’s so aghast, we have to give in and inform her that Pasha is The Boss. This makes Hazel sigh with relief and Sofi laugh.

“Don’t get me wrong; he can still be a major pain,” she says between sips, “but I put up with him because he’s my big brother. And I love him.”

“Your whole family is pretty amazing.” I set my drink down on the table and pat my swollen belly. Baby Chekhov hiccups and nudges my ribs with her little feet. “I’m sad your mom couldn’t make it to the spa with us.”

“Yeah, that is… strange.” Sofi’s brows pinch together. “I know she’s got her own life and all, but there’s no way she’d pass up spending time with you. Especially with your due date coming up so soon.”

I shrug. “It’s fine. Sounds like she was having a great time with that guy⁠—”

“Well, well, well,” a familiar voice interrupts. Mak saunters over from the bar, a mischievous smile on his face and his eyes glued to Hazel. “If I’d known we’d have three goddesses showing up tonight…”

“Gotta keep you on your toes, Mak.” Sofi lifts her glass to salute him. “And I have to say, not bad. I like the new drink menu.”

“The mocktails are amazing,” I add. “Usually, they’re a sad reminder of what I can’t have.”

He grins and cocks his head to one side. “Yeah, well, can’t be serving my sister-in-law watered-down bullshit.”

“I’m not your… I mean, thank you. Really. But I’m just the girlfriend.”

Both siblings snort. “I won’t even dignify that with a response,” Mak sighs. He turns his sights on Hazel. “And you must be the maid of honor.”

She blushes. Sofi shoots him a warning look that he reluctantly obeys.

“Well, I guess I better make the rounds. Need to at least look like a responsible host.” He gives Hazel one more smoldering smile. “Let me know if there’s anything you need.”

Hazel waits until he’s well out of earshot before she opens her mouth. “Please tell me that man is single.”

“He’s unavailable.”

I look at Sofi with no small amount of confusion. “Since when? I haven’t seen him with anyone.”

“He’s got his commitments.”

Hazel takes another long sip of her martini with Okay, then… stamped on her face. “Well, let me know when you change your mind. I happen to have a hot older brother who is single and definitely your type.”

Sofi doesn’t answer. Instead, she stretches, stands, then holds her hand out to Hazel. “Come on. That dance floor looks like it needs us ‘goddesses’ to spice things up.”

“You coming, Daph?”

I laugh and shake my head. “Trust me, you don’t want me out there. I’m basically a wrecking ball with legs.”

I’m also dealing with swollen ankles and swollen feet and swollen… everything. Which drags my mind back to the confrontation with my parents earlier. Ophelia wasn’t wrong—I’m bloated and swollen and probably can’t blame all the weight gain on my baby.

But where she was wrong is how it affects my value. My worth.

It’s so fucked-up that my own flesh and blood go around thinking I’ve diminished in value—and decreased theirs to boot—by deciding to keep my child. To them, I’m an ugly counterpart to the slim-and-trim Daphne Hamish. I’m her rebellious shadow.

I pull up Pasha’s contact card on my phone and smile at his pensive expression in the photo. To him, I’m everything. To him, I keep growing more beautiful and more valuable every single day—and he never hesitates to tell me about it.

To him, I’m the best version of myself.

I peek around to make sure no one is looking in this general direction.

Then I tug down my dress just enough to send him a juicy cleavage shot.

At the club with the girls, I text. Think I can do body shots now? I got plenty to work with 😉

Three songs later, Hazel and Sofi stumble back into our booth laughing their asses off and signaling for refills. I just laugh with them and accept the new mocktail martini when it arrives.

“It’s too bad Pash couldn’t make it.” Hazel nods to the crowd on the dance floor. “You’re turning enough heads to start a war.”

“Probably a good thing he’s not here, then. He might actually start one.” Sofi looks at me. “Hey, we’re gonna go back out and torment some other guys now. You good?”

“Play nice!” I dismiss them with a wave of my fingers. Right on cue, my phone buzzes in my hand.

A few minutes later, my phone buzzes in my hand.

PASHA: On my way. Be ready.

I bite my lip and wonder if I should get at least one song in my system… or should I find a more private booth? Maybe both?

I down my mocktail and decide I need to make Pasha go on a little hunt when he gets here, which my gut says will be sooner rather than later. And when I reach the dance floor, I don’t even have to wade through the crowd to find my friends—they grab me by the wrists and pull me to their spot among the pulsing beat and flashing lights.

This is what I needed. Alcohol, too, but I can survive a few more weeks without it as long as my friends are here to help me escape in other ways. Like letting the music drown out all my intrusive thoughts.

Someone’s hands start rubbing my hips. They’re not Pasha’s. I turn around to tell him off, but the strange guy is too close and tightening his grip too hard.

“Hey there, sexy,” he drawls. Good Lord, I can smell the liquor seeping from his greasy pores. “Come grind that juicy ass on me.”

“No thanks.” I pry his fingers off my hips. He has the gall to moan as he stares openly at my cleavage. “Seriously. I’m not interested.”

“Don’t be like that. I’ll do you so good…”

“I have a man, thank you.” I peel his hands away firmly. “Now, go bother someone else.”

“But I want you, baby,” he slurs against my neck. “And I don’t see your man here, so…”

Hazel has her back turned while she dances, but Sofi notices I’m not next to her and does a spin to try and find me. When she does, our gazes lock and her eyes widen.

Help me! I mouth.

She starts to wade through the crowd, but it’s too packed. Shit, I should have stayed at the booth. She won’t get to me in time before he…

Then Sofi freezes. Her horrified stare flicks to just over my shoulder.

And the horror melts into a saucy little smirk.

What the hell?

Those gross hands instantly leave my body. The people who were bumping and grinding next to us stumble out of the way, all of them staring in fear at the guy behind me.

“You must have a death wish, motherfucker.” Pasha isn’t yelling, but his voice slices through the music anyway. One of his huge hands has taken up a grip on the creepy guy’s throat.

“Calm down, man!” the perv squeaks. “The lady wanted⁠—”

“For you to leave her alone. She asked nicely. Me? I’m not nearly as polite.”

The sleazebag freezes. It’s a good thing Pasha has him held up by his neck, because it looks like he might slump to the floor as the pieces start clicking together.

“Look, man, I’m sorry! I didn’t know⁠—”

Pasha looks over to the group of guards now flanking a pissed-off Makari and nods. Mak returns the nod and makes one swift gesture.

In the blink of an eye, my assailant is seized by either arm and dragged off the dance floor. The music drowns out his apologies and pleas, which is just as well. I’m hoping it’ll drown out the inevitable screams that’ll come once Pasha’s men get to work on him, too.

This time, when a pair of strong hands find my hips, I sink into them gratefully.

“Let’s go,” Pasha says close to my ear.

It’s not a question.

I let him convey me through the crowd, underneath a curtain, and down dimly lit, winding hallways until we enter a large office.

Inside, the perv is tied to a chair, with Makari and two Bratva guards looming over him. Pasha relinquishes my hand, then saunters over and takes up a stance in front of him.

The man quakes. “I swear, man, I didn’t mean anything! She’s drunk! I tried to push her off me, but she was too drunk and too⁠—”

“My woman. My pregnant woman. That’s who you mean?”

He stills. “Uh… no. I mean, not… uh…”

“Here’s the problem, my friend.” Pasha starts to roll up his sleeves. “The fact that you came into my club, assaulted my woman, and just now tried to lie to my face? That cannot be forgiven.”

I stand still and watch. Violence is in the air like humidity, just waiting for an excuse to break out.

I should not be turned on by this.

I should not be feeling a surge of desire when Pasha’s first blow lands in that guy’s gut.

I should not be licking my lips at the sight of him backhanding the creep so hard that a tooth flies out.

Old Daphne would be sobbing in terror.

New Daphne is ready to jump her man’s bones.

Holy fuck, Daphne. Reel it in.

“As much as we’re all enjoying the show, I did just have this carpet shampooed yesterday.” Mak claps a hand on Pasha’s shoulder to stop the next swing. “Want me to move him out back?”

Pasha spits in the guy’s face, then wipes his mouth with the back of his hand. “Nah. I’m good.” He looks around until his eyes meet mine.

I don’t know what he expected to see. Fear? Horror? Trepidation? Whatever it was, it’s obviously not what he finds.

Instead, the heat and desire flares in his eyes to match my own.

“Ready to go?”

I can’t get to him fast enough. He pulls me in close and we make our way toward the exit.

Mak holds the door open for us without another word. He winks at me before closing it again, and I hear the lock click into place. The thumps and groans that follow say that the perv’s nightmare is far from over.

“I should turn you over my knee,” Pasha rumbles as we stroll through the hall. “Those pictures…”

“Is there a bathroom nearby?”

He pauses and points at a door. “Don’t take too⁠—”

I cut him off with another hungry kiss. My hands grab the front of his shirt and pull him with me into the dark room. The only reason why we don’t crash into the sinks is because he spins me around to push me against the back of the door.

“Naughty plamya,” he murmurs as he nips at my neck. “Driving me fucking insane.”

“You love it.”

“Guilty.” Even in the dark, I can still see his wolfish smile.

“Show me.” I grab his hand and press it to the damp heat between my legs. Right where I need him to be. “Mark me. Make me yours.”

“You’re already mine.”

“I know. But I love being reminded.”

Pasha captures my lips with his. He reaches down to lock the door, then spins me around, pins my hands above my head, and kicks my legs apart.

This is what I needed, more than the music and dancing and drinks.

This is exactly what I needed to make me forget.

To lose myself and all my worries.

For now.