by Bea Paige
“Bloody perfect,” I groan, giving him a rueful smile when he gives me his “stern doctor look”. I realise I’m not an easy patient but seriously, fucking crutches now? I’m not sure what I was thinking really, I guess I was avoiding the next stage after the wheelchair. A huge part of me was hoping I’d go miraculously from sitting in a wheelchair to walking. Stupid.
“You might want to get up and go right this second, but if you do, you’re going to cause more harm than good,” he says, already knowing me better than most.
“So now I’ve got to hobble about on those.”
“Yes.”
“Perfect,” I retort ungratefully, which he graciously ignores.
“The good news is, I would expect you to be able to put your full weight on your knee in about a week or so. A couple of weeks after you should be able to walk with just a cane. You’re four weeks into your recovery now, in another month’s time you’ll be walking without assistance. Providing, that is, you maintain the exercises to keep the joint and surrounding ligaments supple.”
“Okay, I can cope with that, just.” I smile, despite myself. I can do this. What’s a few more weeks? “What about ballet?” I ask tentatively.
“You can practice simple stretches as soon as you can walk without a cane. On pointe, it’s likely to be three to six months, give or take. Even then, I’d be very, very cautious. Don’t push yourself before you’re ready.”
I nod, gritting my teeth. That will be the longest time I’ve gone without dancing. I miss it as much as anything else. The freedom to move, to stretch my body, pushing it to its limits. I’ll never get back to the intensity that I was used to in the Royal Ballet, but there’s something so freeing about working your body until it can’t do anymore. I guess that’s partly why I’m in such a mess now. I need to be better about taking care of myself.
Dr Smithton regards me, waiting for me to speak. When I don’t, he fills the silence.
“You have three men who will do just about anything for you, it would seem. Might as well make use of them, no?”
“Make use of who?” Ivan asks, walking into the room. I’m pretty sure we haven’t got to the half an hour point yet. Dr Smithton smiles and holds his hand out for me to shake.
“Looks like my time is up. Take care of yourself, Rose. If you can’t do that, then make sure these men do,” he says.
I take his hand and give him a warm smile of my own. “Thanks again, Dr Smithton.”
He nods, releasing my hand and grabbing his case. After a brief conversation with Ivan, he leaves the room.
Ivan pushes the door shut, leaning on it. A crackle of sexual energy fills the space between us. “So, Rose. Looks like you’ve got a new toy?” He says with a wicked grin as he grabs the crutches and brings them over to me. “Want to give them a try?”
“There are other toys I’d rather play with,” I mutter, pulling a face.
“Me too, Rose. Me fucking too.”
I laugh, then remembering how much he’s been avoiding me, glare at him. “Where have you been these past few days?” I ask, locking the brake on my wheelchair then push upwards, ignoring the slice of pain in my knee. Fuck. So much for looking after myself.
Ivan rushes forward. “What are you doing? Hold on to me,” he urges, holding both crutches in one hand, and snaking his arm around my back.
The second his arm slides around my waist, I feel a warm rush of heat. I haven’t been physical with him since that time with Anton in the hotel on Kirkwall. I’ve missed the contact, so fucking much.
“Are you going to answer me?” I press, trying not to succumb to the intense feeling of rightness between us. I’m pissed off and will remain that way until he explains himself. “Well?” I insist when he doesn’t answer right away.
“Too much shit going on in my head, Rose. Every time I look at you, I’m reminded of what she did, what she tried to do. It’s driving me fucking insane. If we’d lost you…” his voice trails off as he tries to school his emotions.
“See, that’s the point. You haven’t. I’m here… I’ve missed you,” I admit, quietly.
“Fuck, Rose. I’m sorry.”
Ivan drops the crutches, wraps me in his arms and pulls me against his chest. “Is this okay?” he mumbles, the warmth of his lips pressing against the curve of my neck. He knows that between us, Domina makes all the demands. She initiates physical contact. But in the moment, I don’t have the will or the heart to tell him to back off. Right now, I need his comfort. Funny how things can change.
There’s a tenseness he holds in his body as we hug, and I know what he really, truly needs. He needs Domina. But right this second that isn’t an option, because I need the truth before we try and figure out a way to make this work for us all.
“Lift me up, Ivan. Take me to the bed. Then fetch Erik and Anton. We need to talk.”
Ivan doesn’t hesitate, swooping me up into his arms, he strides over to the bed and lays me down gently.
Within five minutes all three men are in the room once more.
Chapter 5
Ivan
Rose regards us all from her spot on the bed. She has her legs stretched out in front of her as she leans up against the headboard.
“Maybe you should all sit. This might take a while,” she says, motioning with her good arm.
Her good arm… fuck.
A slice of shame runs over my skin as I fight to maintain control of my guilt. It eats away at me like acid on skin. I should’ve known fucking better. I should’ve seen it coming.
Anton catches my grimace and a flicker of regret passes behind his eyes as he perches on the end of the bed drawing up one leg and crossing it over the other. I know in that one brief glimpse that he feels just the same as I do. Though he’s better at hiding it.
Anton has managed somehow to bury his pain, for Rose. This side of him, the thoughtful, generous side is as new to him as it is to the rest of us. He’s not touched any drugs since that day he almost overdosed and Rose nursed him through the aftermath. She’s done what no other woman, doctor or therapist has been able to do, and he’s not going to balls it up by shooting up and killing himself. Besides, he knows Rose will kick his arse into touch if he so much as tries. Well, as soon as she’s fucking healed, that is.
Goddamn it.
“I’m going to sit here,” Erik says, sliding onto the bed next to Rose. A statement, not a request. He stretches out beside her, his hand seeking out hers automatically, as though he can’t bear to be near her and not touch her. The gravity of that simple act blows me away. Rose has managed to reach across the void and drag Erik back from the darkness of his past. I couldn’t love her more for it.
“Ivan,” Rose says, urging me to sit.
Pulling up a chair, I flank her left side, resting my elbows on the armrests and leaning my chin against my clasped hands.
We all wait, knowing what’s coming.
“Tell me everything. I won’t accept anything but the truth,” she says, looking between us.
Silence smothers us all like an oily cloth, making it hard to breath.
Anton is the first to speak. Of the three of us, he’s less emotionally attached to Ms Hadley. She might have been his nanny in his formative years, but her close relationship with his father meant that he could never allow himself to love her. Those feelings were only ever reserved for Erik and me, and now Rose.
“Ms Hadley is in a secure unit for the mentally ill. The case won’t be going to court. She won’t be going to prison.” He looks directly at her, not flinching as her expression changes from shock, to incredulity, then rage. White hot rage. It rips outwards, eviscerating the silence.
“What the fuck?!” she shouts, sitting forward, her body jerking involuntarily.
Erik places a hand on her shoulder, squeezing. She flinches, her nostrils flaring as she sucks in a sharp breath, pain lancing across her face.
“Erik, her shoulder,” I warn.
He removes his hand, muttering an ap
ology.
Anton leans over, resting his hand on Rose’s ankle. “My father’s a powerful man, Rose. He knows people… I’m sorry.”
“But she shot me. She tried to fucking kill me. Doesn’t that count for anything. Does my life mean so little? Am I that fucking worthless?”
Real pain cuts through her words, shredding my heart. I reach for her, then realise I don’t have permission to touch her. I’ve already pushed that boundary today. Instead, I scrape a hand over my face before locking eyes with her.
“You are not worthless, Rose. Don’t you ever think that. Viktor has friends in very high places. He protected Erik when he was a kid. Paid off the authorities for Anton and covered up Svetlana’s suicide so the paparazzi wouldn’t descend hell on us whilst we grieved. For whatever reason, he’s chosen to protect Ms Hadley too even though we all know she doesn’t deserve it.”
“And Erik’s mother? What about her?”
This time it’s Erik’s turn to explain. He looks grim, tired. Fucking wrecked if the truth be known. “Back at the farmhouse we found some old photos, and letters…”
“What letters?”
“They were love letters from a man who signed them with just the initial ‘S’. Letters sent to my mother…”
“Ms Hadley?” Rose asks.
“No, my real mother, Isabelle.”
“But why would that make you think Ms Hadley murdered her?”
“Because the letters told a story of a love between not two people, but three. Ms Hadley, Isabelle and this man only known as ‘S’. Except an agreement had been made, one in which ‘S’ had to choose who he loved more. Ms Hadley or Isabelle. He chose Isabelle, and I’m the result.”
“And you think Ms Hadley killed Isabelle out of jealousy?”
“Yes. She almost killed you for the very same reason,” Erik answers her, sighing heavily.
“Why don’t you inform the police? It could change everything. We could get her put away.”
I shake my head. “It won’t work, Rose.”
“Why the hell not?”
“Because they’re just love letters. There’s no real evidence. All of this is supposition. Us reading between the lines. It would be thrown out of court,” Anton says, not liking the truth but speaking it anyway.
“There must be a way…” Rose looks between us, pleading with her eyes.
Erik grasps Rose’s hand once more and presses a lingering kiss against her knuckles before pulling away. “Ms Hadley might have gotten away with murdering my mother, but she sure as fuck isn’t going to get away with hurting you.”
“What do you mean?” Rose asks, twisting her body to look at Erik.
“It means I will somehow make her pay. I don’t know how, or when. But she will, Rose. I fucking promise you.”
Her lips press in a hard line. I know she wants revenge just as much as the rest of us, but I also know Rose, and she won’t want Erik to put himself in a position he can’t come back from.
“And Viktor, what about him? Why would he help her? She could’ve killed any one of you. Can he not see that?”
“Honestly, I don’t know why my father would protect her. They’ve always been close but knowing my father there’s more to this than any of us are able to understand right now.”
Rose listens but it’s as though she’s no longer taking anything in. Her thoughts are somewhere else, somewhere dark. Her past crawls up her spine and wraps around her throat, choking her and drawing out the sobs she’s held in all these weeks. All these years.
“I thought I was going to die,” she mutters, gritting her teeth and swiping at the tears. “I lay there, whilst the sound of the gun firing rattled inside my head and warmth oozed from my shoulder, and do you know what I’d thought?”
“What, Rose?” Erik asks, his face stony.
“That I’m glad it was me she shot and not any of you. That this was my penance for watching my father die, for not helping him.”
“Rose,” I begin, failing to find the words she needs to comfort her.
“The world was fading into the kind of darkness that you don’t wake up from. Ironic no, that I was shot in an act of passion. Ms Hadley did it to save Erik, just like my father had shot Roman to save me. In her eyes I was just as much a predator as he was.”
“Enough!” Erik snaps. “That might be her reason, but don’t you dare lump yourself with that fucking man, not after what he did to you. You were just a fucking child, Rose. I’m a grown arse man, you saved me.”
I watch in shock as he rears upwards onto his knees and turns towards Rose, grabbing her hips and sliding her down the bed, straddling her. She lets out a cry of pain as he grasps her wrists in his hands and pins her arms to her side.
I stand abruptly, the chair falling backwards behind me.
“What the fuck, Erik?” I shout.
Anton stands, reaching me before I can yank the bastard off Rose. She’s not fucking healed. What does he think he’s doing?
“Wait,” Anton says, holding me back. “He won’t hurt her.”
“He already fucking is!” I snarl, trying to shove Anton off me. “I won’t watch him do it.”
“Just wait, brother. Wait,” Anton soothes, hauling me backwards a little.
The only reason I don’t knock him out is because of the way Rose is looking at Erik. Her eyes are trained on him, a sense of relief flooding across her features.
“Please,” she begs, but she isn’t asking him to stop, she’s pleading for something more.
Erik nods once, then turns to Anton and me. “Get over here. Rose needs to understand she’s fucking worthy of our love.”
“Love?” I grind out, seeing how tightly his hands hold onto her wrists.
“Yes,” he snaps, “We all know you love her, Ivan. We all fucking do. Anton has finally found a reason to live in the real world and not a drug fuelled haze, and I have a woman pressed beneath me with my cock harder than stone. Rose is the only woman who isn’t afraid of our kind of fucked up. Of course, I love her. There isn’t another woman on this planet who I would’ve walked out of that glass prison for.”
“Erik…” Rose chokes out.
“She’s not ready. She isn’t healed. You could hurt her,” I protest.
“Not today. Today we’re gentle. We think of Rose’s needs. Can you do that?” he looks at us both, waiting for an answer.
Can I? What a stupid fucking question. I might need Rose’s dominance, I might need to feel pain, but that doesn’t mean to say I can’t be gentle, that I can’t give her pleasure through more vanilla means. If there’s anyone we need to be worried about, it’s Erik.
“Well?” he pushes, glaring at us both.
The answer is a simple one, and we both voice it.
“Yes.”
Chapter 6
Rose
I look at Erik’s profile as he addresses Ivan and Anton, at his strong jaw and sharp nose. He’s a beautiful man. They’re all beautiful, and just as complicated as each other.
“Don’t just fucking stand there,” he barks out.
His command is as much as a challenge as it is an order, which they both react to in different ways. Ivan scowls, giving Erik a fuck-you look. He hates to be told what to do by his peers, his natural tendencies to be submissive in the bedroom clashing with his dominance everywhere else. He won’t back down to Erik, his pride can’t, won’t accept it. Anton reacts completely differently, with a calmness that tells me he’ll do what Erik orders not for his best friend, but for me. If he didn’t agree, he would refuse with little fuss and would not be swayed.
“You’re being a fucking tyrant, Erik,” Anton says with a wry grin, not in the least bit perturbed by his demands.
“Just do it,” he retorts, turning his attention back to me.
I’m only just beginning to understand their dynamics and my place within them. This whole experience is new to me and like them, my trust isn’t given lightly or just to anyone.
Funny, given thei
r needs and their inner demons, that I trust these three men implicitly. This could all go horribly wrong and push back my healing for weeks. The sheer fact that Dr Smithton said that any sort of ‘vigorous exercise’ should be avoided tells me that this might not be the best idea we’ve ever had. But currently I don’t give a shit.
It’s been too long. I need them, and I never need anyone.
“What are you waiting for, Ivan?” Erik calls, the tenuous hold he has on the situation fraying.
“First things first, stop ordering me about, Erik. I might be Rose’s submissive, but I sure as fuck aren’t yours. Secondly, you might be some badass soldier, but I can still kick your arse,” Ivan snaps.
“Then stop being a pussy and get over here,” Erik says back, a grin pulling up his lips.
Beneath him, I hold in a nervous laugh as a thread of excitement overrides the worry that this is going to cost me physically. I already know I’m lost emotionally, even though none of these men are aware of quite how much. I still need to evaluate these feelings I have, and someday soon I’m going to voice them, but I refuse to delve beyond the here and now.
Erik releases my hand, then presses a delicate kiss against the pink mark wrapped around my wrist from his grasp. He looks at me as his thumbs circle my palms.
“There isn’t anywhere on earth that I’d rather be than here right now with you. This, what we all have, is the only thing that will get me through the shitstorm that I know is coming. Are you going to weather the storm with us, Rose?”
“Until the storm breaks, or we do,” I respond honestly.
The truth is, none of us know how this will pan out. There are no guarantees when it comes to us. Broken lives lead to broken people, the cracks harbouring the darkness. It’s inevitable, and each one of us know this all too well. We have so much to lose if this goes wrong, and yet despite that, I’m with them every step of the way. I think I have been since the moment I walked into Browlace and came face to face with our nemesis, though I hadn’t known it then.
Erik smiles then leans over and presses his lips against mine. I open my mouth, welcoming his tongue and the taste of bitter coffee and lust fuelled by love.