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Filled with darkness and torture.
Alek has made it his mission to hurt me.
And yet he expects me to give him my heart.
But how could I ever love a cruel man like him?
I need to escape him.
The question is how.
Will I survive this marriage and get away…
Or will Alek decide to end my life all together?
There’s only one way to find out:
I must endure a marriage that is slowly killing me.
Start reading Bound by the Bratva NOW!
SNEAK PEEK
Chapter One
ALEK
A red glow filters through the dark room, making everything look more seductive. That’s the way I want it. The more seductive it looks, the more my customers pay. It also makes the women appear sexier and more mysterious, which is important, considering they’re the moneymakers of my club. Drinks flow freely. Women walk around half-naked, delivering said drinks to said customers, who eye the women with lustful gazes. Soft music pulses through the speakers as one of the women dances on the stage, grinding herself into the pole.
This strip club—The Pink Paradise—was one of my first properties after I became head of the Bratva in New York City. My father, who ran the mafia before me, thought it would be tacky to own a strip club, but I saw the money-making potential in it. Plenty of thirsty, desperate men in New York looking to stare at half-naked women. Sometimes the women are fully naked—though only on weekdays. It helps draw in crowds during the week, earning more money.
And that’s how I run things—through the lens of how I can earn the most money and still keep my business safe. I’m not a risk taker. I’m not a businessman.
I sip on my glass of whiskey as I watch one of the club’s better dancers—Anya. With a curvy body that any man would be desperate to get his hands on and stunning red hair, she’s a favorite for sure. Out of all the girls who work here, she gets asked for the most lap dances and earns the most money in tips during her dances. She’s also the one who most often gets asked to go to our private rooms for … more than just a dance. It’s technically illegal for them to provide sexual services, but I allow it. More money means more power. Even when I get the occasional woman crying to me about not wanting to dothatpart of the job, I tell her she can either do it or get out. I don’t have time for insecurities. I need confident women who want to work here. It just means more money in my pocket.
Anya gives me a wink as she shimmies over the pole. She’s wearing the smallest bra, leaving almost nothing to the imagination. Combine that with her tiny thong, and she’s practically naked on stage. Soon, she’ll be fully naked, but it’s the tease that creates the most excitement. I look around at the crowded room full of aroused men who’re practically drooling at the sight of her. Their hands fly out as they pass her tips, aching to touch her hips or trail their fingers over her thighs. I like to watch this show go down. It makes me feel even more powerful knowing I’m the one who employed Anya. In a way, that makes her mine.
A lot of the women who come here for a job owe me money, or their families owe me. I tell them they can pay off their debt by working here, but only if they’re one hundred percent sure. The other option is homelessness. Or … I kill them or their family members for not paying me back what I owe. I don’t give a lot of options, but that’s what happens when you get into bed with the fucking Bratva. I’m ruthless. Take it or leave. Simple as that.
Anya drops to her knees and crawls over to a man who looks like he’s barely out of high school. Shit. He may even be still in high school. As long as he’s paying, I’ll look the other way. Anya dips her chest lower to give the boy a good look at her cleavage. Her breasts practically fall out of the bra. I can’t wait till she takes it off. And she will. And she’ll do it for me.
Anya is an interesting case considering she didn’t come to work here to pay off any debts. She told me that she just liked to dance and that there wasn’t a job more suited for her than this one. I hired her on the spot. I wish more of my employees were like here—strong, competent, brave.
Another one of my girls, Stacey, walks by, carrying another glass on her tray. “Do you need another, sir?” she asks.
“Thank you,” I murmur, grabbing the new glass. I spank her ass lightly as she walks away, and she smiles at me over her shoulder. Stacey is one of the cuter girls at my club. With light blonde hair, blue eyes, and a round face, she has an innocent look about her. She began working for me when she needed to pay off her brother’s debts. Once she finished, she decided to continue working here even though I told her she could go. She said the money was too good to leave. I appreciate that. A girl after my own heart—one who understands the power of money.
I lean back in my seat and open my legs wide. Kitty, another dancer, eyes me as she walks up to me. Her long brown hair covers her small breasts. “Would you like some company, sir?” Her eyes flit down to my lap, and she frowns a little. I’m not excited. It takes a lot to get me turned on. In fact, it takes a special kind of woman. Most of the women here could do it if I were in the mood—I’d gladly fuck any of them—but I also get bored easily. Not many women can capture my interest and retain it. The only one who has slightly managed so far is Anya, and even she can bore me at times. Kitty is beautiful, don’t get me wrong. I’m just used to looking at beautiful women all day. I need more than beauty to get my cock hard.
But that doesn’t mean I don’t want some fun right now. So I motion for Kitty to come closer. Her eyes light up, and she straddles me, her ass on my lap. All the women I employ like to have a piece of me. I’m a hot commodity—with my money, power, and good looks. It’s not vain of me to say, but I know I’m attractive. I’ve tailored my look to be so. I keep my brown hair slightly ruffled. I’ve found that they prefer that over a slicked-back look. It also helps to make me look less intimidating, which I like. It shocks people more when they realize just how cruel I can be. I was blessed with striking blue eyes and a strong jawline. But my body is all my work. I exercise for several hours a day. I need to keep myself fit and strong to deal with enemies who think they have a chance of going against me. I also like that women find my muscular build attractive. I love a good fuck session, and being in shape helps with that.
Kitty grins her hips down, giving me a true lap dance. I don’t touch her. I just watch as she puts on her best sultry look and begins to moan, thinking that’s what I want. But I don’t care for a fake show of pleasure. I want the real thing.
I grip her waist. “Kitty, stop pretending.”
She bites her lip and nods before resuming her lap dance sans moaning.
“Much better,” I say. The smile she gives me is genuine.
