Filthy Secret

TAKEN BY NIKOLAI

Yelena

“Ms. Taylor, welcome,” the older gentleman says with a slight bow as soon as I step foot outside the airport. I blink at the harsh light. God, it’s nine in the damn morning and this man is very cheerful.

I grimace at the man using my mother’s maiden name. No one calls me Taylor, it’s disrespectful in our world. I am Yelena Alekseeva, the daughter of Lev Alekseev, the granddaughter of Maskim Alekseev, and the greatgranddaughter of Alexi. Two of the greatest Bratva leaders of our time and yet here, I am Ms. Taylor.

“Mr. Vasiliev is expecting you.” His Russian accent is not as heavy as I had expected, but it’s there enough to let everyone know that the man’s heritage is in fact Russian.

“Thank you…” I leave the word hanging, wanting to know his name.

He smiles brightly at me, the lines in his face deepening, his eyes lighting up with the smile. This man is genuine and I like that. “Pavel, miss.” He takes my luggage and we walk toward the waiting vehicle.This text is © NôvelDrama/.Org.

I incline my head as I take his hand. “Well, Pavel, please call me Yelena. Miss Taylor is what my mom would prefer.”

His lips curl at the ends. I’m not in the least bit surprised that the man dislikes my mother. Most people do, my family included. “That’s probably true.”

I can’t help but smile at his assessment. “Trust me, it is. So tell me,

Pavel, what’s Texas like?”

It’s hot as Hades and that’s something that I’m not used to, but I’m here for a while to recuperate, per my grandfather’s wishes.

His chuckle is low as he opens the car door for me. “I think you may like it, Yelena.” He closes the door once I’m inside and loads my luggage into the trunk.

I pull the seatbelt on, fighting back the whimper as pain rips through my side. God, it sucks being shot.

“Are there any good clubs?” I ask once he climbs into the car. It’s been a while since I’ve let my hair down and that’s something that I plan on doing a lot of while I’m here.

“Crimson,” he responds instantly as he starts the car up.

“I’ll check it out,” I reply with a smile, glad that my mother’s husband sent Pavel to collect me from the airport.

“What’s Nikolai like?” I question after a few minutes of silence.

My mother married him six months ago. I was invited to the wedding, but just like the previous three beforehand, I decided to do without the drama. After all, Nikolai makes my mother’s sixth husband and she’s not even fifty yet. The woman gives a whole new meaning to the word gold digger. The man in question is thirty-nine and probably the most dangerous man in the Russian Mafia outside of my grandfather. He’s ten years my mother’s junior, something I wouldn’t have expected. She usually goes for older guys.

He coughs deeply once. “Mr. Vasiliev is one of the best men that I know. He is a great man to work for. It is an honor.” The loyalty in his words is not unexpected, but the sincerity is. It tells me a lot and I’m slightly pleased that he has managed to instill this loyalty in his staff. It makes me wonder what the hell he’s doing married to my mother.

I have also done some digging on my newest stepfather. Something I do each and every time she gets married. Except this time, instead of going for the usual older millionaires, my mother has reverted back to her old ways and gone for a member of the Bratva. Of course, this time she fucked up by marrying the Pakhan of Texas. I should have realized when she told me his name was Nikolai that he was a member of the Bratva.

“How long are you staying in Austin for, Yelena?” Pavel questions as we drive toward my mother’s house.

“I’m not really sure yet. A few weeks, maybe a month.” Unfortunately I have to stay until I’m completely healed; the last thing I want to do is deal with a pissed off grandfather. That’s worse than dealing with my mother.

He nods. “I’ll be your driver while you’re here,” he informs me and I smile. I can deal with that. “As long as you’re happy with me doing so.”

“Yes, Pavel, that would be great. Thank you.” I settle back in the seat and pull my cell from my purse. I quickly send a text message to my grandfather letting him know that I made it to Austin.

Fifty minutes later and Pavel is pulling into a long winding driveway. I’m not surprised at the lavish home my mother has; she’s always wanted the best.

Pavel opens my door once he’s parked out front. “I’ll bring your luggage to your room, Mr. Vasiliev and Ms. Taylor are waiting for you.”

More disrespect from him calling my mother Ms. Taylor rather than Mrs. Vasiliev, but then again, I know how much of a bitch the woman who birthed me truly is.

“Thank you, Pavel, it was lovely to meet you,” I tell him as I press a kiss against his cheek after he helps me out of the vehicle.

His face flushes red, but the older gentleman smiles widely at me. “My pleasure, Yelena, please don’t hesitate to call me if you need to go anywhere.”

I nod as I move toward the steps that lead up to the house. “I will.”

I enter the house and take everything in. The crystal vases, the white walls, and expensive paintings. Everything screams my mother’s stamp on it. Walking toward the sound of voices, I spot a room to my left. It’s not as bright and airy like the rest of the house that I’ve seen. It’s got a huge sectional couch, and an even bigger TV system. This has to be Nikolai’s doing, there’s not a chance that my mom would have a couch that big.

“Ah, Lena, there you are,” my mother says as I step into the kitchen. It’s been almost a year since I last saw her, in that time she’s changed a lot. Her face is thinner, there’s no lines on her face-thanks to the face lift she had -and she’s lost weight. She looks good. Her blonde hair is pinned up into a perfect updo, not a single hair out of place.

She rushes over to me and pulls me into her arms. I suck in a sharp breath as she jostles me. “I missed you,” she cries.

I roll my eyes. God, she’s such an actress, I really think she’d do well in Hollywood, she’s that good.

A deep cough steals my attention. I glance to my left and my breath catches as I see the most gorgeous man that I have ever seen sitting at the kitchen table. His jaw is chiseled and covered by thick black stubble, his eyes the warmest brown I’ve ever seen, his black hair short, but enough to pull if you wanted.

His gaze moves up and down my body and those brown eyes of his heat, and when he reaches my face, he winks at me. Fucking winks. Power and authority radiate off him; he’s sex and sin mixed into one dangerous man. I swallow hard, praying that he’s not around much.

“Adele.” His deep voice makes my knees go weak. “Let your girl breathe,” he tells my mother. No-instructs her.

She pulls back and straightens her dress. “Of course, of course,” she says and steps back, but I see the anger swirling in her blue eyes. She’s beyond pissed that he’s telling her what to do. My mother hates being dictated to and rebels against it at every chance.

“Take a seat,” she tells me. “Nikolai has been dying to meet you.”

“Liar,” I whisper as I move away from her, trying my hardest to ignore the heated gaze from Nikolai.

“Are you hungry?” she asks me and I’m wondering who the hell this woman is and what has she done with my actual mother.

“No I’m good, thanks, but I wouldn’t turn down some coffee.”

I take a seat beside Nikolai and the man doesn’t hide the fact that he’s not taking his eyes off me. His gaze firmly on the swell of my breasts that are currently on display thanks to my bodice.

I spy the tattoos peeking out from under his shirt collar, not to mention the ones that are on his hands. I want nothing more than to see what others he has hidden beneath his clothing. Every member of the Bratva has tattoos -myself included-detailing our lives and what we have achieved. Nikolai, being the Pakhan, would have more than most. I’m intrigued to discover what secrets he holds.

“Of course,” she says as she moves to get me one. I don’t like this side of her, she’s after something, there’s no way she’d be this attentive if she wasn’t.

“Lena, right?” Nikolai says, his voice deep and smooth.

My nipples pebble beneath my top and my stomach flips. Why am I having this reaction to him? He’s not the first attractive man that I’ve ever seen.

I nod. “Yes, most people call me Lena, although it’s Yelena,” I tell him as my mother places a cup of coffee in front of me.

“Oh, Lena, I forgot to tell you,” she begins and I sit back in my chair, the coffee cup to my lips, and I raise a brow. “I’ll be gone for the next two weeks, you’ll be okay here without me, won’t you?”

I smile, I should have known that she wouldn’t have stayed around. “I have been for the past twenty-five years, I’m sure I’ll survive another two weeks.”

Her eyes narrow but she releases a high-pitched laugh. “Be good, you have my number. Call if you need me,” she tells me and turns on her thousand-dollar heels and walks out of the kitchen.

“You won’t call her, will you?” Nikolai questions once we hear the front door close.

I take a sip of coffee. “Nope,” I reply.

He makes a low growl in the back of his throat. “You don’t get along?”

I get to my feet, the cup in my hands. “You’re a powerful man, Nikolai, you’d have been better to do your research before you married a woman

you barely know. Now if you’ll excuse me, I’m tired.”

I get as far as the door before his hand clamps around my arm. The grip tight, and I can feel the anger coming off him in waves. He spins me around, so that we’re facing one another. I tilt my head to look up at him. The man is six-foot-nine, dwarfing my five-foot-ten height. “Answer the question, Yelena.” The way he growls my name has heat pooling between my legs.

“No, we don’t get along. My mother is selfish, as you’ve probably worked out seeing as you didn’t say goodbye to her. Adele Taylor cares

about one person in her life, Nikolai, and that’s herself.”

“You think I’m with your mother?” He grunts as he pulls me closer. My body shivering as he runs his tattooed finger down my cheek. “No, malenkaya, I’m not.”

I stare up at him, confused by his words. He’s calling me little one. I’m nowhere near little. Although compared to him, I guess I am. I stare into his warm eyes and the air around us crackles. My lips feel dry and I swipe my tongue along them.

His eyes darken as he steps back and releases me, I feel the instant loss of him and I hate that I’m feeling this way. I don’t do attachments and I certainly don’t get involved with anyone in this life. The criminal life- been there, done that. But Nikolai, he’s dangerous. He’s my mother’s husband and I’m not going there. No matter how much I want him.

“Be good, malenkaya, I’ll be watching,” he warns me and goes back to sitting at the table.

I leave the kitchen, needing to breathe. This isn’t good. God, being around Nikolai isn’t right. I need to steer clear. He’s my mother’s husband after all.