Bad Apple

PART I

Chapter One

Irina

I hate my stinking life.

It’s raining cats and dogs and I’m late for work.

Which sucks since I’m the boss and everyone knows the boss should never be late. It sets a bad example or something. Now I know my girls won’t be too bothered, but still, they’re likely all huddled beneath the small awning freezing to death because I stayed up late with my beaus Ben and Jerry and watched Gone with the Wind. Again.

I stayed awake until midnight and then slept late because, like the dummy I am, I forgot to reset my alarm. Silly Binks. And you know what the worst part is? I would’ve been on time but my darned car wouldn’t start. Again.

So I’m late. Something I haven’t ever been, not even when my ex stole all my shit out of my apartment and pulled a runner on me.

I wore my Halloween costume to work and showed up pretending I wanted to look like a whorish Bo Peep. It got me a lot of unwanted attention, and by the time I’d served the last customer and cleaned up I looked like the goth version with all my mascara running and my face pale and puffy.

Crying while you serve people is not okay, but sometimes you gotta do what you gotta do. So what if a sweet little old lady passed me her shrink’s number? I called him and me and Harry have been friends ever since. At least, I see him as a friend. He keeps calling the cops on me and shoving a restraining order under my nose.

By the time I get to work, it’s pouring and there are a shitload of disgruntled people on my doorstep. Instead of doing what a sane, sensible person should, I dash into the rain and run for the door, almost getting myself trampled as everyone stampedes for the safety of the dry bakery.

To be fair, it’s not like it’s freaking nine or anything. It’s the crack of dawn, five in the morning. Well, fifteen past the hour and the reason people are now glaring at me as the dogs continue to pour.

Thank you Jesus I made a shit ton of stuff last night before I left so all we have to do now is make the coffee and start serving.

You look like a cat ate you up and shat you out, Mindsy mumbles as she hands me the first cup out of the pot and flips a complaining customer the bird. You wait your turn or you can get your pasty ass out of here and I’ll ban you for a month.

The man’s eyes go wide and he backs off immediately, knowing that my pal isn’t kidding one bit. One time a guy pissed her off so much, she banned him and his whole family for two weeks.

When he finally slunk in here with a black eye and his fuming mom and sisters, he was full of remorse and ready to lick my toes just to get back in so his women wouldn’t go that extra step and flay him alive.

My place is the leading bakery in the city, and I’m not too humble to admit that. I worked my ass off to get it to this point, and the only reason it’s now considered something of a diner too is because I had to consider other people’s health and start offering food to keep them alive for service.

Hence the fact that I now serve one lunch service for exactly one hour a day. You snooze you lose. Nik takes care of that drivel while I continue to serve pure sugary delight to the city.

Hey! Back up off my heat, cheese breath!

Ah God, Tat.

I sip my coffee and look over at Tat, who seems intent on drilling a hole into one guy’s forehead while ringing up a large box of cupcakes, donuts, and my famous breakfast cake while he silently pleads with me to get her under control.

I just shake my head and smile while my crew goes on getting people their breakfast and talking smack all the while. At this stage, I don’t have a thing to do but to go on back and start throwing myself into my true love—making others as plump as I am.

That’s my plan. Since I have not one hope in hell of ever looking like a supermodel in a bikini, it’s my dastardly intention to turn the rest of my fine city into plump, happy individuals.

Yo, Riri, we’ve run out of brownies and this yahoo’s complaining!

I roll my eyes as Eliza floats in with a wicked grin on her face, her blue eyes twinkling dangerously. I don’t have to ask, I already know it’s another sad first-timer who’s taking the walk of shame as the regulars just shake their heads in pity.

Let him complain, Liza. I have two hands and one mind, and right now that mind’s running on one lousy cup of coffee.

Which sucks, because not only did I have a great threesome with my guys last night, but I also put a lot of effort into going over the leads I’ve gotten in the search to find my family.

The real one who tossed me away.

Now I’m not complaining since I got a really good one in the end and my mamen’ka loves me enough to be a constant pain in my ass, but I’m one of those assholes who just can’t stop picking at the scab. I need to know why my mother took one look at me and dropped me off at the local church.

I’m not angry. I got the perfect family out of the bargain. My parents are Russian immigrants who did nothing but love me to death my whole life, and I have three brothers—Feliks, Daniil, and Luka—who would do anything to protect me.

But...I need to know.

Hey! Wake the hell up and get going. The breakfast rush may be ending, but we’ve still got the lunchers who’ll be attacking like a pack of ravenous beasts in about four hours, Ri.

Ravenous beasts? More like a pack of wild monsters. Seriously, my place is popular. To make matters worse, my three besties are so hot that we have a running stream of sexy men stalking in here and trying to get numbers while buying the place out.

By lunchtime Nik and I have the cases filled, the bread section overflowing, and the racks cooling and waiting in case things turn wild again and people try to attack when they see things running low.

I’ve baked enough cupcakes and brownies to feed a Third World country, and my feet are so sore that I feel like I’ve been walking on ground beef the last hour.

I know I’m covered in flour, from the top of my dark brown hair to my pink polka-dot apron.

It’s as I’m bulldozing my way towards the coffeepot, looking all kinds of feral, that the doorbell chimes and I look up, straight into the clearest blue eyes I have ever seen.

You’ve heard about that moment, the one where you literally stop in your tracks and just stare, where your ovaries start screeching like banshees and you start seeing little blue-eyed replicas of a man, with your own fucked-up hair and....well I see all of that as I stop dead and just stand, staring wide-eyed at one of the most beautiful men I have ever seen.

He’s huge, over six feet tall and so golden blond that I’m disgusted to say he’s not just one shade. His hair is a profusion of blonds, ranging from the deepest gold, almost brown, to strands so light they’re white. He’s so wonderful that I think I wet my panties when he looks over at me and smiles in a knowing way that makes me all the more enthralled.

Till Nik elbows me square on the nipple and yells for us to get a room.

I crash straight back down to earth with a thud and feel myself blush as I rub at my offended boob, trying and failing not to look back at the hottie still staring at me.

What’ll it be, hotshot? And y’all better hurry before the vultures land, Nik mutters, taking up her place at the counter as I swallow and finally manage to drag my eyes away.

Holy shit, Ri! Stop it. Do not stare at that stranger.

But even as I pour my coffee and keep telling myself to have some freaking self-respect, I’m turning to peek at him over the rim of my cup. And boy is the man still as hot as my fogged-up eyeballs first told me.

He’s also still staring at me, only now he’s standing at the counter right in front of me, those impossibly blue eyes surveying me with a penetrating stare.

You are beautiful.

I am?

Oh Jesus, what a stupid thing to say, I yell silently, giving myself a hard shake when I hear a chortle and look over to see his posse of men grinning at me.

"Certainly you are, zhenshchina," he purrs, his lips tilting in a way that makes my heart flutter for about five seconds before reality sets in.

I’m not one of those sad chicks who sees myself and thinks ugly, but I have a mirror. My hair is brown, my eyes are this weird shade of light brown that I just don’t dig, and my ass is curvy in this day when curves are only hot on the Kardashians.

I am not beautiful, and certainly not enough to have this man looking at me this way.

Er, thanks? Uh, would you like to try my pie?

Seriously, Ri? What the hell?

The choking comes from him this time, and I can’t do a damn thing but start laughing when I catch his dimple popping as he tries not to laugh.

Certainly. I would love to taste your pie, angel. It would be my greatest honor, only let me take you to dinner first, hmm? My mama raised a gentleman, after all.

Oh uh, I meant...

Here, try the cherry. It’s as close to her pie as you’re gonna get, buddy. Next!

Thank Jesus for the influx of customers that floods in then because I’m able to scuttle away in short order. I feel as if my lungs have no air left in them.

I know what’s finally happened, and God help me, I don’t know if I’m happy or terrified. That man whose name I don’t even know—he’s my one.

Mamen’ka used to tell me stories about finding my one and I always dreamed about looking up one day and seeing him.

Unfortunately for me, he’s hot, rich from the looks of that suit, and totally out of my league.

Chapter Two

Misha

She’s gorgeous, cute, and sweet in a way that makes what I am about to do so wrong that even a man like me knows it. And yet I’m going to do it anyway because I have to.

I want that little piece of land her bakery is sitting on, and I want it yesterday. So what if it’s wrong to swindle a woman out of her dream?

It’s not as if I’m going to run her out of business and leave her penniless. I have a perfectly good location set up for Irina Velnicova and her little operation. Hell, she’ll be thanking me with kisses by the time I move her into that new space.

We can’t do this, Mish. Did you see how sweet that woman was? I almost fell at her feet and begged forgiveness for what we were thinking of doing to her. Leo groans, falling into a chair across from my desk as I stand at the window and look down at the little bakery across the street.

No, I shouldn’t be doing this, I know that, and not just because Irina is a sweet woman with a heart of gold, but because I have other choices. The problem lies in the fact that those choices do not involve me getting my way and that rubs me raw.

We need that building, Leo, so do not sit there and tell me to do any less than what I have been doing. Irina doesn’t need to remain there in that building. She can run her bakery and diner from a block away without hurting her business.

She could, but the fact is why would she want to when she doesn’t have to? She worked really hard to get her business up and running without those brothers of hers taking over and throwing money around. And she’s made a good business there, Misha, a fucking terrific business considering she started out alone and worked fifteen-hour days before her goods became a hit.

Yeah, which makes me feel like more of a heel about this whole thing.

I come from a Russian family that’s been in the States for three generations, though if you heard my parents speak, you’d think they’re newly Americanized.

We’re a solid unit and love one another to death. Hell, I still go home for dinner every Sunday and my mama still asks me about women and grandchildren on the regular. My family and the business we’ve built from nothing is my life.

That’s why this is so important to me. I have no beef with Irina past the fact that she’s the sister of Feliks Velnicova, a man who’s been encroaching on my business long enough that he’s gone from being a thorn in my side to an enemy.

One who seems to have no weaknesses, save for his family. One family member, in particular.

And I need a weakness to exploit, because if I don’t get that vulture off my back soon, my business and everything that my family has worked so hard to build will all come crumbling down around me.

I’m a good businessman. I work hard and make good choices when it comes to filling the family’s coffers, but that’s hard to do when every move I make is countered by that bastard.

My business isn’t suffering, but it will be soon if I don’t make a move now.

This is the only way. We both know he won’t stop coming for us until the family gives him what he wants, and I’ll be Goddamned if I let some two-bit hoodlum get his hands on my sister and nephew after putting us in the poor house. I say we play this shit an eye for an eye and see how he likes having his family involved.

Leo sighs heavily and shakes his head once before stalking over to the bar and coming back to me with a much needed drink.

I wish Lena would get her shit together, man. She’s got little Maks in the middle, as well as all the rest of us, and yet she gets to flit around without a care while we scramble to hold off her baby daddy, Leo snarls, his face going hard once again.

I happen to agree with him, though God knows my opinion has been ignored for a good two years now since our baby sister first came home pregnant and so changed that it’s hard for me to look at her sometimes.

Gone is the sweet little girl who went off to college, and in her place is a bitter woman who is using an innocent child to hurt a man who has every right to see the baby he created.

I hear ya, man, but with Papa in the mix, you know for damn sure we aren’t getting any sense into her anytime soon, I say, sipping on my drink and keeping my eyes trained on the shop below.

Fucking brat is what she is.

Amen to that.

It’s me and Leo and our younger brother, Vadim, who run shit while Papa sits back in his retirement and Mama is left to look after Maks while Lena flits around like a princess.

I love my sister, but lately she hasn’t been a very good sister or daughter.

This is the only way to work things and kill two birds with one stone. We need the Mathis deal to go through, and you heard that old asshole. He wants that building before he’ll do business with us. If I can get it, we’ll be okay even after losing Forbes and Hemsy to Feliks. As for Irina being in the family...that would make the Velnicovas family, and Papa couldn’t object to Maks meeting his father after that.

As much as I love my father and my sister, what they are doing is wrong. Feliks deserves a chance to be a father to Maks, and Maks deserves to know his father.

As for Irina...

She’s too good to be used this way, Mish.

For God’s sake, Leo, what do you think I intend to do to the woman? I’m going to take her out and get to know her a little.

And sample her pie? he asks cheekily, silently laughing at me when the woman in question appears below.

I am going to sample that pie. Hell, after seeing the way she blushed clear to the hint of cleavage I saw, I’m going to gorge on it and make her thankful she offered in the first place.

Nope. I grin, letting the word end with a pop. I’m taking her home to meet Mama.

Leo’s eyes stretch wide just as Vadim walks in, a cocky grin lining his face as he comes to stand beside us just as Irina is joined by the loudmouthed Nikita Barns before the two skip off to the left, hands tightly clasped.

Did you see how green that chick’s eyes were? I swear I almost took her eye out when my dick saw her.

Shut your filthy mouth and pay attention, idiot. Big brother wants to take Irina to meet Mama.

Vadi’s eyes widen comically before he starts rubbing his hands together with glee.

Ohh I can’t wait to see Lena’s face. And damn, man, I can’t wait to see Papa’s when he realizes you outflanked him. I love the old bastard dearly, but he’s pissing me off with his attitude lately. You know he almost took Mama’s head off the other day when she wanted to take Maks to the park? She hasn’t cooked for him in four days.

Not only has Lena caused a huge rift between my father and his three sons, but she’s making waves in a marriage that has stood the test of thirty years.

Enough is enough.

So you’re serious about little Irina, huh? Vadim asks, his eyes going glacial as he looks at me.

My brother may be a womanizer with a new bird on his arm every night, but he loves them all and has a healthy respect for the good ones. Irina, I know, is a good one, and this is Vadi’s way of warning me not to screw with one of the good ones.

Which I have no intention of doing.

I may be lining her up to lose her building, but I’m going to give her so much more than what I take. I have a bigger, better location lined up for her, and with my backing I see Irina doing so much more than running a tiny place that can cater to only so many people.

As a heartbeat.

The woman is good and kind and exactly what I’ve always imagined in a wife. Yeah, I’m fucking serious. Mama will love her, and the fact that I wanted her on sight isn’t a bad thing either.

I’ll give her a good life, and with the way I almost ripped my fly when I saw that spectacular ass wagging my way, I won’t have a hard time remaining true to my wife.

Good. On the upside, I’ve managed to set up a meeting with Mathis next week. All we gotta do now is make sure we play shit right so we can outwit that crazy bastard.

Oh I’m going to outwit him all right. I’m going to outwit them all and watch while Lena and Feliks scramble to get at each other while I settle this shit once and for all.

I love my nephew, more than I have ever loved another human being, and by the time I am done with those two yahoos they’ll be so worthy of the little guy, he’ll think he woke in a fucking candy store.

If I have to fuck them all up to get there, I will do it. I want my family back in order, and I want my new family happy.

Let’s do this.

Chapter Three

Irina

I love the city in summertime. It smells like garbage and sweat and all the things someone who isn’t a true New Yorker will never understand.

It may sound strange to you, but the city with all its ugliness is also beautiful and pure in its own way. It’s hard and mean and yet you’ll never meet a better person than a true New Yorker.

Neighborhoods are like families and the people in every family would kill to protect those they love. Just as my own little hodgepodge will knife a bitch to protect me.

So, that guy this morning, huh? the girls ask when Nik and I walk in carrying coffee and these amazing hot dogs that can only be had from Fig’s Diner a block away.

No offense to my girls, but some things you just can’t replicate, and Fig’s coffee and hot dogs are perfect examples. I sit with a huff and dig in just as Liza sits down to inhale her own fare.

She’s a card, this one. Her hair is never the same color from week to week, she swaps out contact lenses the way I change undies, and her clothes scream crazy, but she’s mine and I love her. Even if the woman can eat like a starving horse and never gain an ounce of weight.

Nik is the other end of the spectrum. She’s dark with green eyes and so clean cut, you literally fall on your ass when she opens her mouth and you hear some of the vile stuff that lives there.

And then there’s Tat, my innocent little Tatty who’s blonde, brown-eyed, and vacillates between shy and totally homicidal. Seriously, just last week she almost went up in flames when a customer flirted with her. She almost broke his nose when he got a little too handsy.

The chick is nuts.

I love them all.

Yo, earth to Riri. You gonna dish about that hunk or what? Nik asks as she dissects her hot dog with a clinical eye that drives me nuts.

Seriously, why order an onion relish when you just end up tossing them? I ask, filching the poor innocent darlings before she can toss them in the garbage.

I like the taste but hate the stringiness of them. And that’s not what I’m talking about, so stop trying to distract me and dish. How hot was that fucker, huh?

I find myself sighing dreamily before snapping back to reality and giving them all the gimlet eye.

He was okay. Let’s move on, I say, desperately needing to change the conversation.

I saw the hot coming off that man in a way that almost had me panting, but I refuse to even think about that because I am not dating. Never again.

Not after my last relationship bombed so badly that I still have the knife wounds in my back. And definitely not after seeing my ex a few days later and the carnage that was his face.

I wanted to pin it on a random mugging till he saw me and literally ran screaming the other way, his terror evident. Which means one of my brothers got hold of him.

Poor sap.

I don’t date anymore and I never look at a man who I wouldn’t want to live through next week, lest my brothers get their filthy hands on him.

And I want that hot specimen to keep living, and living, and living some more.

"He was not okay! He was gorgeous and intense looking and he wanted to try your pie, Nik yells salaciously, her stern look ruined altogether by the lusty expression she throws my way. Why I bet he’d go all crazy over the cherry flavor."

"Seriously, stop. So what if he was hot and my vagina started screeching invectives at me? So what if he looks like the kind of guy who’d take Feliks in a fight? And so freaking what if I almost had an O when he smiled and popped that dimple...."

Focus here, Ri. Do not go having another daydream about that mouth and those long thick fingers of his.

So you’re not into the hot Russian your mother would kill to see you with? And you’re not into the way he looked at your crotch and licked his lips? And let me guess, you’re so not into the fact that he was close to climbing the counter to get to your hot ass? Dude, you shoulda seen his face when he came in and saw you wagging tail at him. Tat giggles, making my eyes narrow at her in warning.

You all know I do not date, I mutter.

Bullshit. You don’t do anything but work, talk to your cats, and go out with us occasionally when we get you too drunk to say no. You, my girl, have no life since you let that little fuck face and his sidepiece screw with you. You need to stop being so afraid to fail and just try some man candy. Dude, there’re like a million flavors you’ve never tried. Surely tuna isn’t gonna mess you up for life, Nik mutters, shuddering when a stray onion hits her tongue and she’s forced to pull the stringy offering free of her half-chewed food.

First off, my cats have got character.

One of them farts constantly and the other one tried to take you out the other day. Those pussies are whack!

I ignore that slur with a roll of my orbs and continue.

Secondly, he who has no name was not tuna. He was mackerel if ever I tasted that shit. But no, I am not ruined! Let’s not forget my brothers, guys, I point out, sipping at my coffee.

Tat goes all dreamy-eyed at the mention of my brothers, and I sneer in disgust as Nik and Liza shake their heads.

I love him so much I had to lecture my slutty vagina last week. We’re officially holding out till he realizes we’re meant to be, Tat breathes, making me gag.

You’re looking at this all wrong, Ri. You’re a healthy, beautiful, successful twenty-five-year-old woman. You should be out having fun and not worrying about the man you bring home just because you have three brothers who are apt to rip a man apart and give him a vagina.

Ha-ha, Nik, ha-ha. You all know I can’t so much as smile at a man without one of those goons being on him with threats and the occasional broken leg. You remember two months ago when we went to Electra’s and that guy hit on me?

Nik snorts and cackles while the others giggle like fools.

Oh remember that time Luka slapped the sandwich guy for looking at your boobs?

I throw Tat another glare as she goes all wet for Luka, again, and shake my cup at the girls.

The point is that I am not good at relationships and we all know it. I mean I can’t even blame He who has no name for what he did because we weren’t going anywhere and I knew it. The brothers just misunderstood my crying for a broken heart and did what they always do.

Poor guy.

I tried to apologize again even after he looked at me and ran only to have him fall down a flight of stairs to escape me, breaking his right leg and cutting his head open.

Poor guy.

So don’t do a relationship then. Do a steamy affair with a hot guy who knows how to pluck cherries. Do the hot Russian with the dimples and lips that look good enough to wrap around your—

Stop!

Okay, fine, but sex is fun. When you have sex with someone you find hot and nice, it’s even better. So get out there and give the hottie your pie and move on from the cats and freaking doilies already, Nik yells, making me cringe anew.

The woman may look straitlaced, but she’s a wild one who has no filter. She also has a point. I’m twenty-five, alone, and living off of romance novels while my cats keep my feet warm.

Well, one cat. The other is a kamikaze wannabe whose only mission in life is to take me out unless I lock him out on the fire escape. Poor Sweetie doesn’t know how to love yet, but I’ll teach him. If I survive another year with the little bastard.

Maybe I should consider an affair, something to keep me company after the bakery’s doors are shut and I drag myself home.

Look, let’s make this something you can’t ignore anymore. I dare you to go for that Russian the next time you see him in here.

These women know I can’t resist a dare. I haven’t been capable of it since I was little and my brothers would torture me to death by calling me a baby.

Like the idiot I am, I accept the dare, smirking confidently because no way will he be back.

Chapter Four

Irina

He’s back.

There he is standing at the counter, again just before the lunch rush, and again when I look my absolute worst. This time I’m covered in more than just flour after Nik manned the mixer and started the Batter Crisis of ’16.

Hello, angel.

Oh God. I peek over at the opposite end of the counter to see my girls nodding vigorously, their smiles so wide that I can’t do a thing but swallow and smile sickly at the gorgeous man in front of me.

Er, hi...

Misha. Misha Novac, he purrs, smiling knowingly when I try and fail to make sense of my batter-splattered hair while studiously ignoring the jackals unabashedly eavesdropping while the men who’d accompanied him yesterday join the group.

God, all the man needs is a martini—shaken, not stirred—and one of my fantasies will be fulfilled and checked off the bucket list. Number seventy-five: meet first Russian James Bond. Check!

Er, hi, Misha, uh...

Do not offer pie again, you brainless twit!

What can I get you?

Those blue eyes go all dreamy, his smile never faltering.

Dinner, angel.

Dinner? We don’t serve dinner, although if you want I can maybe—

He grins and holds up a hand to stop my babbling.

With you. Tonight, he interjects, giving me another long, slow smile as he looks me up and down, his eyes flirting with indecency as they land on my breasts before his head tilts.

Dinner?

I look over at the girls and get narrowed eyes before taking a deep breath and turning back to Misha.

Okay.

My answer seems to surprise him, but he grins and I flinch when the sounds of cheering and high fives reach my ears.

I swear it’s hard not to snarl at my girls when I turn to see them and Misha’s posse practically doing the happy jig just feet away.