Deadly (Born Bratva Book 5) (12 page)

Anastasia

Those two need time alone and, if I’m honest with myself, so do I. I need to get away and sort out my thoughts. Everything has changed; I’ve reinvented every detail of my life. I look in the mirror and see a stranger, yet on the inside I’m still…me.

There are times when someone calls me by my new name and I don’t answer because I’m still Emily Finley. I don’t know if the day will ever come when I can truly become Anastasia Alkaev. I really hope I can because I like her more. I like her confidence. I like her looks. For the first time in my life, I feel attractive, even sexy.

I’m so deep in thought as I approach my bedroom that I don’t notice the man leaning against the wall just outside my door, arms folded over his chest. Once I do see him, I can’t help but do a double-take. The man is fucking gorgeous.

He has long, dark hair, chocolate brown eyes and a closely trimmed mustache and goatee. I can’t recall ever seeing a man this good looking before. He should be gracing the cover of a magazine, not roaming the halls of a killer’s home.

“Can I help you with something?” I ask with a scowl.

He smirks, looking me up and down with blatant male appreciation. “Well, now, there’s a loaded question,” he drawls as he straightens from the wall. “Yeah, I’m sure you can help me; the only question is, are you willing to?”

I roll my eyes before unlocking my door, fully prepared to slam it shut in his face. To my surprise, he follows me inside.
What an asshole…

“Excuse me. I don’t recall inviting you in.”

“You don’t?” he asks, his brows lifting in feigned confusion. “That’s because I invited myself.” He ambles around my room, moving items on my dresser, opening drawers, and in general touching my stuff. He suddenly stops, locking eyes with me. “I’ve followed your work, you know. I guess you could say I’m a fan.”

“Excuse me, I’m lost. What are you talking about?”

“Oh, Emily, I think we both know what I’m talking about.”

My heart races as I consider the implications of his arrogant statement. Who is this man and, more to the point, how does he know me?

“You must have me confused with someone else. Now, please leave.”

He doesn’t leave but, instead, walks toward me.

“It’s okay, Anastasia,” he murmurs softly. “It can be our little secret. I’ve always been fascinated with serial killers. That’s what you are, isn’t it? A serial killer.” The whole time he’s speaking he’s slowly running his finger over my cheek. When I attempt to jerk away he squeezes my chin, stopping any movement. I look up and find him almost unrecognizable. All the sexy charm and humor are gone; the malevolence on his face, the sheer ruthlessness pouring off him, sends a shudder coursing through me. He leans in to whisper in my ear, “You cold? Doesn’t seem cold in here to me.”

“Yes, it is, and something stinks, too. Oh, look, it’s you!” I say, jerking my chin out of his hold as I parody the same mock surprise he had shown moments ago.

“Good instincts,” he muses aloud. “You could use some lessons in the manners department, but we can always work on that.”

“
We
won’t be working on anything.”

He breathes in like he’s losing patience with me. “Yes,
we
will, actually. I’ve been hired to train you in the art of being a lady.”

“What the fuck are you talking about?”

“That right there. The way you talk, the way you act.”

“Roksana’s training me,” I say cautiously, not liking the direction this conversation is taking.

“Ah, but you see, Glazov hired me and he far outranks Roksana.”

“Why would he do that?”

“Well,” he drawls, “other than the fact that your manners are atrocious, he did say something about the two of you getting into trouble every time you’re together.”

“I don’t need you to babysit me.”

“Oh, I’ll be doing so much more than babysitting you. I’ll be watching every fucking move you make. Now, on another note, my name is Dmitriy Kerzhakov,” he says with a small bow. “It’s a pleasure to meet you.”

“Yeah, well, sorry to say the feeling isn’t mutual. Now get out of my room. I’ll be talking to Glazov about this.”

“Be careful. That man you’re calling Glazov is the Pakhan and the sooner you get it through your head that he holds your life in his hands, the better off you’ll be. Actually, I hold your life in my hands, too, because I’ll be reporting back to him on how your training is going. So far…sadly, I’m not impressed.”

He turns to leave and I’m practically sputtering as I struggle to find the words to convey my frustration with this latest turn of events. “Fuck you, Dmitriy!”

He turns back to shoot me another arrogant smirk. “Well, now, fucking you wasn’t part of the deal,” his says silkily as he looks his fill, lingering on my breasts with blatantly carnal interest, “but I do find you to be very, very fuckable. I’d be glad to work that into our training sessions too.”

Overwhelmed by the desire to see his arrogant ass caught off guard, I scan the dresser for something to throw at him. I pick up a small horse figurine from the dresser, pleased at its unexpected weight. I heave it at him before I have a chance to reconsider, and he catches it effortlessly. I hate that I’m begrudgingly impressed with his quick reflexes. He takes slow, deliberate steps toward me, stopping only inches in front of me with the figurine held aloft in the palm of his hand.

“Everything in this house,” he says slowly, as if talking to a small child, “is here because the Pakhan wants it to be so. Every piece of furniture, every knick-knack, selected because of its history, and carefully placed.” His face goes from impassive to forbidding as he glances from me to the dresser. Holding the figurine out to me, he says tersely, “Now, you will put it back.”

At the mention of Glazov, I know I’m beaten. I take the figurine and walk five or so steps to the dresser, carefully returning the object d’art to its original position. I turn to demand once again that he leave, only to find that he’s already gone.

What the absolute fuck just happened?

Roksana

“Hi, Dmitriy. I see you met Anastasia,” I say in greeting as one of Glazov’s bodyguards comes out of Anastasia’s room.

“Oh, I met her, all right. Your father hired me to work with her.”

“So you’ll be fight-training her? Martial arts, I assume? ”

“That…and some manners.”

I can’t help but laugh as I comment, “I take it she’s not happy about it?”

“She threw a horse at my head.”

“A horse?! What did you do?”

“I caught it, of course.” His shit eating grin as he turns the corner makes it plain that he’s intrigued with our newest trainee.

“Impressive,” I say over my shoulder as I enter her room.

The befuddled look on Anastasia’s face is almost comical. I can’t help but fan the flame. “I see you met the infamous Dmitriy.”

She rolls her eyes and shakes her head then continues. “That arrogant son of a bitch said I don’t have manners.”

“Well, to be honest with you, trying to hit him in the head with a horse probably didn’t help.”

“The son of a bitch had the nerve to catch it.”

“That’s his training in martial arts—quick reflexes. Don’t let those good looks and easy charm fool you. He’s deadly. I’ve never seen anybody defeat him in the ring or in a cage.”

“So he’s going to train me to fight?”

“Maybe if you bat your eyelashes and ask real nice.”

“That…is never going to happen.”

We both bust out laughing and fall on the bed side-by-side, looking up at the ceiling.

“On a serious note, don’t buck him too much because I’m sure my father gave the order for him to work with you. If you give him too much shit my father will take it personally.”

“Then I’ll give him just enough to make him miserable but not enough to cross the Pakhan.”

“You’re learning.”

“Yes, I am, thanks to you.”

“Your training is just starting. By the time we get through with you, you’ll be invincible. On another note, you should probably know that Dmitriy is intrigued with the study of serial killers. It’s why none of the women want to get too close to him. They’re scared of him. He’s going to love your serial killing ass.”

“Charmed—I’m sure.”

We both bust out laughing again and move on to less stressful conversation, bordering on ‘girl talk’. I’m glad I have a friend to get into trouble with. It’s just too fucking intense around here to not let off steam occasionally.

Roksana is quickly becoming my best friend – my only friend. No matter how much the powers-that-be try to keep us from getting in trouble together, I get the distinct feeling that trouble is going to follow us wherever we go.