Born into Blood (Devils Will Rise: Melnikov Legacy #2)

Prologue

Chloe

Twenty Years Earlier

M ost women don’t dream about being a stripper when they’re thirty, but I can’t say I’m all that surprised by it. My life was always headed in one direction, and it sure as hell wasn’t to the top. I’m still in the same city I was born in, still dirt poor and barely paying my bills, still living in the same shitty apartment I moved into as soon as I’d turned eighteen. I’d traded one shithole for another, but at least in my own lousy, one-bedroom apartment I don’t need to worry about running into my drug addict mother or one of her handsy boyfriends. My life might still be its own kind of hell, but it’s a hell of my own choosing, and I’ll take that any damn day of the week.

Slipping my heels on, I check the mirror one last time while the music dies down from Katrina’s act. The face looking back at me is one I can barely tolerate to see, so I check my makeup as quickly as I can before averting my gaze. I don’t want to see the desperation that I know is shining in my eyes, the pathetic look that refuses to go away no matter how hard life kicks my ass .

I fix a few loose hairs and rub some glitter on my chest. My face and the tits the universe was kind enough to bless me with are the only reason I got this job when I was barely eighteen. The plan was to use them to get me the fuck out of here, but I learned early on that men promise all sorts of things when you’re half-naked and grinding in their laps. They very rarely follow through on anything, though. I’m not proud of the fact that I’m still having to relearn that lesson.

“Thank fuck that’s over.”

I turn to see Katrina walking in, topless and skin sparkling from the enormous amount of body glitter she likes to use. She swipes the back of her hand across her forehead, brushing away the sweat and stray hairs that have fallen out of place before opening the small bottle of bourbon she keeps at her work station.

“That good, huh?”

She takes another large swallow before letting out a harsh laugh. “The place is nearly empty, and the men who are out there all look like they’re old enough to be my grandpa.” She lets out another laugh. “And not old in a silver fox, sexy kind of way.”

I groan while mentally preparing myself for the usual Thursday-night crowd. Dancing at Lou’s used to be considered somewhat upscale. It wasn’t the best the city had to offer, but it sure as hell wasn’t the worst. Now, it’s much closer to the worst. The city is changing and growing, and Lou’s shitty little dive bar just can’t keep up. A few months ago, a club called Pink opened up a couple of blocks from us, and it quickly became the place to be. I’d tried to get a job there, but was immediately turned down. All the women who were getting hired were young and Russian, so I never really stood a chance in hell.

Giving my body one last look to make sure my thong looks good and the bikini top is straight, I let out the breath I’ve been holding and then paste a fake smile on my face as I walk down the short hall to the stage. As soon as I hear the first sultry beats of my signature song, I step out and start my routine. I’ve done this so many damn times that I could do it in my sleep at this point. I’ll never forget my first night stripping—the fear and embarrassment and shame, but all that had gone away when I’d walked out with enough tips to pay for my motel room for the next few nights. Eventually, I was making enough for rent, and I haven’t looked back since. The world was never going to just hand me a good life. I knew that coming into this, but I’ve managed to claw out an existence that’s tolerable, and sometimes that’s enough. Sometimes it has to be.

My eyes look out at the dark room, skipping over Roger, the bartender who gives me the creeps, before scanning the rest of the bar. When I see Ralph, I feel my confidence start to falter. He’s a retired dentist who’d convinced me that he was going to get me out of here, that he was going to marry me and spoil me rotten. All those private dances I gave him, whispered promises and quick fucks that no one else knew about, and then he tells me he’s been married for thirty years and that he never meant any of the lies he’d told me. After all that, he still has the nerve to come to the club like it’s no big deal. When he catches me staring at him, I quickly look away to the other men and force my mind away from shitty, lying men and back onto my job.

Katrina wasn’t lying about the crowd tonight, and when I start to pull the strings loose on my bikini top, I’m hoping none of these old fuckers stroke out when it falls to the stage. With a sigh of relief that everyone’s heart is proving strong enough, I twirl around the stage, lost in the music until I hear the rowdy group of men who walk in. My breath catches in my throat at the sight of them. They’re clearly already drunk, and I know the type all too well—college frat boys, aggressive and trying way too hard to prove their manhood, shitty tippers, and handsy to the extreme. My wishes for an easy night die an instant death, and I immediately feel bad for not appreciating the geriatric crowd when I had the chance. At least I know I can overpower them if the need arises. The muscular bro-dudes who are a good decade younger than me? Not so much.

I keep a wary eye on them, watching as they load up on drinks and ogle the topless waitresses walking around before finally making their way to the stage. When one of them holds up a fistful of ones, I have no choice but to saunter over to him. As soon as I’m close enough, he paws at my G-string, slipping a dollar in and touching way more skin than necessary. I’m used to men copping a feel, but I’m willing to overlook it if it gets me better tips. A flirty smile and another slow roll of my hips earns me a few more dollars. Hoping his friends are bigger spenders and willing to part with more than singles, I dance my way over to them, offering them each a hip. It isn’t until I really start shaking my tits in their faces that they finally start to part with the fives and tens.

One of them grabs my waist and pulls me into his lap. It’s not a move that’s allowed, but Lou’s bouncers always seem to be looking in a different direction whenever any of the customers break the no-touching rule.

“I want a private dance.”

His words are rough and slurred in my ear while his fingers dig into my hip. I do a quick weighing of pros and cons. The back is relatively safe, and my asshole landlord just raised the rent, so saying no isn’t really an option.

“It’s fifty for a song,” I tell him, not feeling guilty about upping the price from the usual twenty. This may be my only private dance all night, and I need to make the most of it.

Frat boy gives me a drunken smile, revealing the dimple that I’m sure all the girls go crazy for and digs out his wallet. “Lead the way.”

His friends smack him on the back and catcall loud enough for the whole place to hear while I grab his hand and guide him through the crowd. I realize I’ve underestimated him when we hit the dark hallway and he brings his other hand up to grope my ass, digging his fingers in hard enough to hurt.

“Hey, no touching,” I tell him, trying to wriggle free.

His face is right next to mine when he says, “For fifty bucks I can do whatever the fuck I want.”

I’m about to holler for Chris, the useless bouncer on duty, when I hear frat boy groan right before his hand is pulled from my body. I turn around in time to see a tall man wrapping his hand around frat boy’s neck and pinning him to the wall .

“Go back to your fucking friends and pretend this never happened.”

The man’s voice is deep, his accent sexy as hell, and I think I fall in love right on the spot. When he turns his head, and I see the beautiful blue eyes, it’s a done deal. No one has ever stood up for me. No one has ever cared enough to do so, and this stranger has just stepped in, protecting me without a second thought.

My savior lets go of frat boy who buckles over, gasping for air.

“Are we going to have a problem?”

Frat boy looks up at my savior and quickly shakes his head. “No, I’m leaving.”

The man nods, stepping back so the younger man can run back to his friends. He watches him for a few seconds, making sure he isn’t going to come back before turning to me. Even in my stripper heels, this man is taller. His dark hair, piercing blue eyes, and expensive suit have me wondering what the hell he’s doing in a place like this, but I’m not about to complain.

“Thank you,” I quickly say, hoping he doesn’t just turn and walk off.

He doesn’t give me a smile, but I reason that he’s probably just not a smiley kind of guy. His eyes run over me, and I quickly push aside the warning bells that want to start ringing. I tell them to shut right the fuck up because this man just helped me. He didn’t have to step in, but he did, and a man who would do that isn’t the kind of man who would hurt me, so when he motions for me to lead the way to the back room, I don’t question it. I just march my ass down the hall and into the small room that’s outfitted with nothing but a wall of mirrors, a single chair, and a dancer’s pole.

Once inside, he shuts the door and goes to sit down. I’m still not entirely sure what he wants me to do, but when I grab the pole and start dancing, he doesn’t stop me, so I keep going. I put everything I have into the dance, wanting to please him without really understanding why. There’s something about him that I’m drawn to. Maybe it’s the gorgeous face and perfect body, maybe it’s the power that he wears like an aura, or maybe it’s just that he showed me kindness in a way that no one else ever has, whatever it is, it’s like he’s pulling me towards him, and when I can’t resist it any longer, I let go of the bar and saunter over.

His blue eyes watch me, but his face is an unreadable mask. He might as well be watching a nature documentary with all the emotion he’s showing. I falter for a second, losing my rhythm because I’m worrying too much. I want him to like what he’s seeing. I want him to like me. I know it’s stupid to care so much about what a stranger thinks, but I do, and I can’t help it.

Lowering myself onto his lap, I feel a twinge of victory when my ass settles against the hard length of him. I smile, but he doesn’t return it. I know he must care about me a little bit because of what he did in the hallway, but I’d never know it from looking at him right now. He’s emotionless, and if it wasn’t for the hard cock pressing against my ass, I’d never know he was enjoying the show.

Wanting to get more of a reaction from him, I circle my hips, grinding against him even harder, demanding a response that goes beyond his dick. With my bare breasts bouncing right in front of his face and my lower body working so hard I can feel the burn in my muscles, I’m finally rewarded with a deep, masculine groan before his eyes meet mine. They haven’t softened. If anything, they’ve just grown harder, colder, and more distant, but I don’t let it faze me. He can fight it all he wants. That groan he just gave says it all.

“Knees.”

That one word from his beautiful mouth is a command that I don’t even think about disobeying. Part of me fears that he’s just like Ralph, that he’s going to use me to get what he wants and then toss me aside, but I ignore it, choosing to believe that this man is different, that it’s going to lead to something more.

I scramble to my knees, settling between his legs, and watch as he unzips his pants, and when he frees himself, I’m a little surprised at how big he is.

“Suck.”

Another one-word command that’s spoken in his accented voice, but he doesn’t force me. He waits for me to obey him. Leaning closer, I wrap my lips around him and slowly slide down. My plan is to go slow, to let myself get used to his size, but that’s not how he wants it. When he roughly fists my hair and slams me down at the same time as he rocks his hips and thrusts into me, I gag around him, tears falling from my eyes. I’m locked in place, unable to do anything but take what he’s giving me.

Fear runs through me, but then he growls something in a language I don’t understand, and I can’t help but wonder what he’s saying. The idea that he might be saying something kind sends a spark of warmth to my chest, and I begin to work with him, sucking and tonguing his shaft as best I can. My throat feels raw, my makeup is a wreck, and he’s showing no signs of slowing down. If anything, he’s getting rougher, each thrust a little harder than the last, and when I let out a muffled, pain-filled moan, he fists my hair tighter and growls out another sentence that I’m choosing to believe means something good, that his words are tender where his actions are anything but.

With one last thrust, he buries himself inside me and lets go. For a few horrible seconds, I can’t breathe, and I start to choke, but he doesn’t pull back. Breathing heavily, he holds me in place until he’s completely empty. Only then does he pull me off him by my hair. With my throat burning and my scalp stinging, he pushes me away, already zipping his pants up by the time I fall back onto my ass.

I watch him, too stunned to move, too horrified and scared that I might have misread everything, but then he meets my eyes, and they might look just as cold as before, but I know I can see affection in them. He’s just trying to hide it.

He leans closer, and I’m surprised when he reaches out and cups my face, trailing his thumb along my skin. “You look like her.” His voice is barely more than a whisper as he stares right through me. He’s not seeing me. He’s seeing her, whoever the fuck that might be.

A wave of jealousy hits me hard, and before I can stop myself, I whisper, “Who do I look like? ”

His mouth lifts up in a smirk, but there’s nothing lighthearted about it. The darkness in his eyes has me wishing I’d kept my mouth shut.

“The one woman I’m not allowed to touch.” His tone is hard, the words spit out like he can’t stand the taste of them, and then he’s shoving me aside so hard I fall on my ass again.

Desperation fills me, forcing me to reach for his leg as he stands up. I grab his calf, feeling the hard muscles beneath my hand as he looks down at me.

“You can fuck me,” I tell him, not caring that it makes me sound pathetic. I can live with that. Over time I can make him forget her, and then he’ll be mine, and I’ll keep him so happy that he won’t have time to even think about her. He won’t even remember her goddamn name.

Leaning down, he fists my hair tight enough to sting, stretching my head back so I can’t look away. “And what makes you think I’d want to fuck a whore like you?”

He sees the confusion and hurt on my face and gives a harsh laugh. “Just because I let you suck my dick doesn’t mean I want you touching me.” Before I let go, he pulls his wallet out and takes out several hundreds before dropping them and giving my head a pat. “It wasn’t a bad blow job, pet.”

He steps away, and I’m too shocked to stop him. He’s already walking out the door before I find my voice and ask, “What’s your name?”

At first I think he might ignore me, but then he says, “Osip,” before walking out and leaving me alone.

Osip .

I whisper the name into the empty room while I replay everything that happened. I can still taste him on my tongue as I scoop up the three-hundred dollars he left me. The smile spreads easily across my face. A man who doesn’t care isn’t going to part with this kind of money. Ralph didn’t even leave me anything close to this, and he was a man who was constantly telling me he loved me.

Stuffing the money into one of my shoes so no one else can see it, I stand up and step closer to the mirror in front of me so I can try and wipe away some of the smeared makeup around my eyes. Instead of looking away from my reflection, this time I face myself head-on.

“He’ll be back,” I whisper. “Osip will come back for me.”

He makes me wait eight days before he steps foot inside Lou’s again. I’ve picked up extra shifts, too afraid I would miss him when he came back, so even though I’m exhausted, everything inside me lights up when I see his gorgeous face. He meets my eyes and nods towards the back. I don’t get a smile, but that’s okay. He shows his affection in other ways, like the fact that he even bothered to come see me again. A man like him could go into any club and have all the women swarm him, but he chose this club—he chose me .

With a smile for the man I’m currently dancing for, I let him put another dollar in my thong before I rush over to where Osip is waiting for me. Without a word, he grabs onto my arm and leads me to the same back room as last time. Before the door is even fully shut, he’s bending me over the chair and tugging my thong down.

“Osip,” I start to say, but he cuts me off.

“Don’t fucking talk. I want your hands on the chair, your ass in the air, and I want you staring into the mirror in front of us. I want your eyes on mine.”

I do as he asks, unable to hide the flash of pain that crosses my face when he roughly slams into me. He hadn’t given me a chance to get ready for him, and he’s far bigger than what I’m used to. He watches me in the mirror, noticing my pain but not stopping. My fingers dig into the cheap, plastic chair while he fucks me hard and I convince myself that it means something to him. Fisting my hair, he tugs hard, forcing my head higher. His eyes never leave mine, and I want to prove to him that I can take this, that I can handle whatever he wants to give me.

When I start to rock my hips, he lets out a deep groan and growls something in that beautiful, strange language. He doesn’t caress my body, doesn’t slip a hand between my legs to help me out, but it doesn’t matter. The intense way he’s staring at me, the knowledge that he came back to see me, and the possessive grip on my hip is all I need. I come without his help, clenching around him tight enough to pull another deep groan from him before his hips stutter and he lets go. He’s not wearing a condom, and that should worry me. I’m not on birth control. I haven’t been with anyone since Ralph and that was almost a year ago, but instead of freaking out, I like that he did it. Guys don’t go without a condom for just anyone, and in my mind it’s just further proof that he cares for me.

Before I’m ready for him to, he slides out of me and quickly tucks himself away. I pull my thong up and lower my shaky body down into the chair I’d just been gripping while he pulls out more money.

“You don’t need to pay me,” I tell him, but he drops five-hundred dollars into my lap like it’s nothing, and I know he’s not doing it because he sees me as a prostitute. He’s doing it because he cares about me.

When he turns to leave, I reach out and grab onto his wrist. His jaw tightens at the contact, but he doesn’t jerk his arm away. He’s not wearing a suit jacket tonight, just a button-down, white shirt with the sleeves rolled up, giving me the perfect view of a gorgeous tattoo on his forearm. It’s a black swan, the feathers so realistic I can’t help but run my thumb over the one that extends to the top of his hand. It’s beautiful, and there’s something sad about it, just like the man it’s inked onto.

“What language were you speaking?”

“Russian.”

I squeeze his forearm a little harder, desperate to keep him here with me just a little longer. “Who are you, Osip?”

The corner of his mouth lifts up in a smirk as he squats down next to me so we’re face to face. “A very dangerous man, pet. My brother and I are going to run this city.”

It’s no secret that the Melnikov Bratva runs this part of the city. Hell, they own Pink since the Barinov brothers disappeared, but I’ve never paid much attention to any of it. I don’t mess around with that shit. My life is hard enough without pissing off the mafia.

Fear has my heart racing when I ask, “Are you a Melnikov?”

The disgust on his face makes me flinch. “No, I’m not a fucking Melnikov. Soon enough no one is going to remember their fucking name.”

Upset with myself for making him mad, I reach out to cup his face, to try to pull him closer for a kiss, but he jerks away, standing so quickly I nearly fall off the chair.

“When will you come back?” I call out before he can walk away.

Moving his head slightly so he can see me without fully turning around, he says, “Whenever I decide I want to fuck you again, pet.”

He’s gone before I can ask him any more questions. I grab the money that covers half my rent, and when my shift finally ends and I crash on my couch, the first movie I see when I turn on the TV is Doctor Zhivago . Sitting up, all the fatigue and sore muscles from a night of dancing fades away as I get lost in the movie. It’s like a sign from the Universe, telling me that Osip is my future. Mesmerized by the Russian story, I stay up until the sun starts to filter in through the ragged blinds on the small window behind me.

Barely able to keep my eyes open, I think about Osip, picturing him now as Yuri from the movie, convinced that he’s not a cold man—he’s a tortured soul who desperately needs me. No matter what it takes, I’ll prove to him that I can make him happy. Soon he’ll forget all about whoever the hell that woman is that he can’t have, and he’ll just be happy that he can have me.

For the next two months, Osip is a regular visiter to Lou’s. He always takes me to the back room, and he always pays me large amounts of money, but I know it’s just his way of making sure I have enough. He still won’t let me kiss him, and he still insists on fucking me from behind, but I know that he’s going to warm up to me. It just takes time, and he’s worth the wait.

It isn’t until I start throwing up every morning that I realize I’m pregnant. My periods have always been irregular, so when I’d missed my last one, I hadn’t thought much of it, but the pregnancy test I buy at the nearest drugstore confirms what I already know in my heart is true.

Osip and I are going to be parents. Even though it’s way too soon for me to be showing, I rest my hand on my stomach, already imagining the life we created. I’m still smiling when I go in for work that night, and the customers must pick up on the happy vibes I’m putting out because my tips are the best they’ve been in weeks.

As soon as I see Osip walk in, I let Katrina take over so I can run to him. I want to fling my arms around him and tell him I love him and that we’re going to be a family, but he looks even more pissed off than usual tonight, and I don’t want to overwhelm him. Instead, I walk into the back room and slide my thong off before bending over the chair. I know what he wants, and I’m more than happy to give it to him.

He’s even more rough than usual tonight, and by the time he’s done, I know I’m going to be sore for a couple of days. He can’t control himself when he’s around me, and it’s not like I can get mad at him for something like that. I’m sure once I tell him about our baby that he’ll be more gentle next time. He’ll probably demand I quit my job and immediately move in with him. I bet his home is beautiful. I hide my smile and pull my thong back up before turning to face him.

Unable to hide it any longer, I smile up at him. “I’m pregnant, Osip. We’re going to have a baby.”

The backhand across my cheek is the last thing I’m expecting. A sharp, blinding pain rips through my head, pulling a yelp from me as I grab onto the chair for balance.

“Osip,” I gasp, too stunned to utter anything else.

He fists my hair, pulling my head roughly back as he glares down at me. “What the fuck did you just say?”

“I said I’m pregnant,” I whisper. “I thought you’d be happy.”

He lets out a harsh laugh while shaking his head in disgust. “Get fucking rid of it,” he spits out, and I’ve never seen him look so angry before. He never smiles, but he’s never looked at me with so much murderous rage in his eyes.

“What?” I try to shake my head no, but he’s fisting my hair too tightly for me to move.

He leans closer, growling the words out slowly when he says, “Get rid of it, or I will beat it out of you. Do you understand me, pet?”

When he sees how confused I still am, he gives me my first smile, but instead of the loving one I’ve always imagined, it’s cold and hard and sends a shiver down my spine.

“Did you honestly think we’d just become a family, that I’d marry you and we’d raise the baby together?”

He leans in even closer so our faces are almost touching.

“Did you honestly think I cared for you?” He lets out another harsh laugh. “God, that’s pathetic even for you. I come here, pet, when I want a quick fuck. I come here because you look like her , but you’re not her, and you never will be.”

He fists my hair tighter, making me wince before he lets go and stands up and I fall to the floor. Pulling out his wallet, he drops several hundreds onto my head. I let them fall around me, too distraught to move or say anything.

“That should be enough to cover the abortion and the days of missed work. If I come back and find out you’re still pregnant, you won’t like what I do to get rid of it.”

When I don’t say anything, he leans down to hook a finger under my chin, tilting my face back up to his.

“Tell me you understand. Tell me you’re going to obey me like the good little pet you are.”

I give a shaky nod, but my brain refuses to accept what’s happening here.

“Say it,” he growls, digging his fingers into the bruise that’s already forming on my cheek.

“I understand,” I whisper while fighting back tears.

He drops his hand and stands back up to his full height, fixing his suit and getting himself back under control.

“I’ll be back to see you next week, and I want to see paperwork from the clinic, pet.”

He doesn’t give me a chance to respond, just walks away without a backward glance, leaving me sitting on the floor, surrounded in hundred-dollar bills, and feeling more alone than I’ve ever been. With more than enough money to cover my shift, I tell my boss I’m feeling sick and make my escape from the club that somehow feels even dirtier than usual. I want a shower. I want to scrub this night off me and the way it’s making me feel.

Standing in the shower later, I rest my hands on my belly, unable to resist thinking of a dark-haired, blue-eyed little girl. She’ll be the perfect mix of us, and once he sees his daughter, I know he’ll realize what a mistake he’s made. He’s probably already regretting everything he said and did. This is all just a big misunderstanding, and the next time I see him, I know it’ll be different. I smile at the thought of him apologizing and wrapping me in a big hug. This baby makes us a family, and I’m not going to just throw that away.

I stay home for the next three days, and I spend it watching Doctor Zhivago, talking to our baby, who I just know is a little girl, and dreaming about our future. When I finally drag myself into work, the last thing I’m expecting is for Lou to grab my arm and pull me into his shitty little office. He parks his scrawny ass behind his cluttered desk and reaches for the pack of cigarettes that’s never too far from reach. We’re technically a non-smoking club, but there are a lot of laws that get broken in this place, and a cigarette is the least of them.

“Jesus, Chloe,” he groans before taking a long drag. Small, dark eyes meet mine as he shakes his head in disappointment. “What the hell have you gotten yourself mixed up in?”

“What do you mean?” I take the seat opposite his desk, trying not to breathe in the secondhand smoke that I know isn’t good for my baby.

“That guy that’s been coming in to see you.” He notices my shocked look and lets out a harsh laugh. “Yeah, I know you’ve been giving him private dances and pocketing all the money, but that’s not why I’m pissed. Do you know who he is?”

“It’s Osip,” I say, and then I square my shoulders and lift my chin. “My boyfriend.”

This time his laugh is a cruel one. “Like Ralph was your boyfriend?”

“It’s not like that.” I rest my hand on my stomach. “We’re going to be a family. He’s going to get me out of here. ”

The look of pity he gives me is worse than the harsh laugh. “Sweetheart, he’s not going to be doing anything with you.”

“Yes, he is,” I argue, fisting my hands as anxiety squeezes my chest and makes me feel like I can’t breathe.

“No, he isn’t. He’s dead, Chloe. Rumor has it the Melnikov brothers took him and his brother out. That guy, your boyfriend, was Osip Lebedev, and I don’t want this kind of shit landing on my doorstep.”

“Killed?” I whisper, feeling like someone’s just come up and punched me square in the chest. I shake my head, refusing to believe his words, because it can’t be true. Osip can’t be dead. We’re going to be a family. He’s going to be a daddy. This has to be a huge mistake.

Lou sees the doubt on my face. “Everyone’s talking about it. Apparently the Lebedevs hurt someone very important to the Melnikov family, some woman. I don’t know.”

“Osip would never do that,” I quickly say, defending the man who I know at his core is a good man.

Raising a finger, Lou points at the fading bruise on my cheek. “You sure about that?”

I touch my cheek, remembering the hit that I got because I’d delivered the news of our baby too quickly. I should’ve eased him into it. It was my fault. I should’ve waited to tell him.

“This was an accident,” I finally whisper, ignoring the disbelieving look on Lou’s face.

He raises one hand at me while he uses the other to bring his cigarette back to his lips, flicking his fingers at me as he fills his lungs with the smoke before slowly exhaling from his nose.

“I’m sorry, sweetheart, but you can’t work here anymore. I may not be the smartest fucking man in the city, but even I’m not stupid enough to go against the Melnikovs. I’ve heard enough stories to know I want nothing to do with them.”

Panic claws at my mind, making it hard to breathe. “But I need this job.”

Again he gives me a pitying look. “You’re pregnant, Chloe. It’s not like you could’ve kept stripping for too much longer anyway.” He opens one of the desk drawers and pulls out a couple of hundreds. “Here, take this. It’s not much, but maybe it’ll help.”

I take the money on instinct. Pride doesn’t keep your stomach full or a roof over your head, and I have a baby to think about now.

“Thanks, Lou.” I pocket the money and turn to leave, but I’m not giving up so easily. If the rumors are true, then the baby growing inside me is the only part of Osip I have left, and it’s my responsibility to keep her safe. No one can know she’s his daughter. If the Melnikov brothers really killed Osip, then they’re vicious monsters who would probably just as easily kill his child. I can’t allow that to happen.

Determined to do whatever is necessary, I walk out onto the main floor and weave my way through the crowd, ignoring the men and the topless waitresses, and the music that’s always way too fucking loud. I ignore everything except the balding man who’s currently getting a lap dance from Candy, one of the newer girls.

As soon as he sees me, his smile falters, and when it’s obvious I’m not going to leave, he sighs and slips Candy a twenty, smacking her ass and telling her to give us a few minutes.

“What do you want?”

I stare at the man who I’d convinced myself was going to be my knight in shining armor, wondering what in the hell I’d been thinking. He’s pathetic and small and nothing like my Osip. Taking a seat next to him, I say, “You’re going to get me a job, Ralph.”

He laughs and grabs his whiskey, taking a drink before he answers me. “Fuck off, Chloe.”

Scooting closer, I bring my mouth to his ear, ignoring the stale smell of unwashed shirt and old sweat.

“I know you own the dental clinic you used to work at. I can work the front desk. I need a job, a good one with benefits and health insurance, and you’re going to give it to me.”

“And why the hell would I do that?” He takes another drink, keeping his focus on the dancer on stage, giving a grunt of approval when she drops her top and shakes her tits .

“Because if you don’t, I’m going to have a talk with your wife.”

That gets his attention. He turns his head to face me, looking more pissed than I’ve ever seen him, even angrier than when I’d grabbed onto his legs and refused to let him leave the room after he’d told me we were over.

“You goddamn bitch,” he growls. “Don’t you ever go near my wife.”

I smile at him and pat his beer belly. “I won’t if you do what I want. Be happy I’m not bribing you for money. I just want a job, a chance to make my own.”

He’s still glaring at me when he pulls a business card from his wallet. “Call this number on Monday. I’ll let them know to expect you.”

When I reach to take the card, he grabs my wrist tight enough to hurt.

“Don’t ever threaten me again, Chloe, and if you ever try to contact my wife, it will be the last fucking thing you ever do.”

I jerk my hand away, not giving the slightest fuck about his wife. I just needed the threat to get the job. All I care about is the piece of Osip that’s growing inside me. With a new job in the works, I walk out of Lou’s with my head held high, even if my heart does feel bruised. I tell myself that it’s for the best. Men always disappoint in the end, and this way Osip will always be perfect in my mind. I can remember him how he’d want to be remembered, and I can teach our daughter about what an amazing man he was. I’ll also teach her about the bastards who took him from us. If it weren’t for the Melnikov brothers, we could’ve been a family.

Despite the fact that Ralph probably assumed I’d fail, I work my ass off at my new job. I learn everything there is to know, and when my pregnancy starts to show, I tell my coworkers that my boyfriend, Osip, is thrilled about becoming a daddy. I’m confident none of them are familiar with the nastier side of the city and the secrets it holds, so I’m not worried about his name raising any red flags. The criminals who secretly run this city work hard to keep their names out of the news. You have to know where to look and dig deep to learn anything, and no one I surround myself with now has any interest in doing that. Just to be safe, though, I don’t ever mention his last name.

My work now might not be the most exciting, but I enjoy it, and as soon as I’m able to, I move to a better apartment in a safer part of the city. It’s nothing glamorous, but it’s the nicest place I’ve ever lived, and there’s a secondhand store a few blocks over that must be a popular donation spot for all the rich families nearby because I manage to find a crib that looks brand-new and enough furniture to make the small apartment feel like home.

I don’t stop searching for information about Osip’s death. News about the Melnikov Bratva is hard to come by, but every rumor I hear, I make a note of. They took the man I love, the father of my child, away from me, and I will never forgive them for that.

My focus becomes my revenge and our daughter, and when painful contractions wake me up in the middle of the night, I’m more than ready for them. I deliver our beautiful baby girl alone, but it doesn’t matter, because she’s all I need. With her dark hair and blue eyes, she looks just like her daddy. I name her Lara after my favorite character in Doctor Zhivago , and when I need to fill in her last name for the birth certificate, I write in the name I’d chosen a few weeks ago—Swan, just like the pretty tattoo on his forearm. Osip would’ve wanted her to have his name, but I can’t risk putting her in danger. One day I’ll tell her the truth.

I kiss her chubby cheek and breathe in her sweet scent, enamored with every part of her.

“Mommy and Daddy love you, Lara,” I whisper against her skin.

I smile when she wraps her small hand around my finger, giving me a strong squeeze and surprising me with her strength, and I know it’s a sign. I may not be able to get the revenge Osip deserves, but our daughter will find a way.

She has to.