Obsidian Mask

by Scarlett Dawn

  “Don’t give me that ‘my sweet’ bullshit right now. I’m not going to be placated with simpering words. I want a damn apology and a promise you won’t do that again. You can’t just order me around! Hell, even if we did fall madly in love with one another and got married, I still wouldn’t want you ordering me around. I’ve already told you, I’m not that type of woman!”

  Daniil’s nose crinkled, and his eyebrows snapped together. “I’m not going to apologize for keeping you and your family safe.” There. At least, he was done with the endearment bullshit right now. We were getting somewhere.

  “You will. And it’s not for trying to keep us safe. It’s for your damn domineering ways.” I pointed at the ground. “Right now, you’re going to apologize, or you can protect my ass from some other place. I won’t put up with this. I’m not lower than you. I’m not less than you. If we’re going to have a relationship when we’re alone together, we’re equal.”

  I wasn’t stupid enough to think of myself as an equal to him in the public’s eye…well, because I wasn’t. Status, money, society…yeah, he had a lot more than me in every materialistic way. Sadly, there was a ladder in the world, and he was more than a few rungs higher than I was on it. But he was polite enough never to mention those things, and I knew he would never demean me in public. Hell, he was pissed when my parents had done it.

  Daniil opened his mouth with that same damn look on his face, and I held up a hand, stating bluntly, “Think before whatever is about to come out of your mouth.”

  His mouth snapped shut and he tried glaring at me. Didn’t really work as well as it used to. “If you keep that up, you’re going to…” I pointed at my eyes and forehead, “…get wrinkles faster.” I almost laughed when his expression immediately cleared. He was so vain.

  He started pacing, his strides long and brisk. “We can compromise on this.”

  “Explain,” I stated slowly since he sounded reasonable.

  “First, I’m sorry for not asking you if you wanted to live here. I assumed that we,” his hand gestured to me and then him, “had moved on to a deeper level this week. Apparently, I was wrong.”

  He sounded a little downhearted at that thought, and I told him honestly, “You aren’t wrong on that. I agree. We have moved into a deeper relationship, but it just proves my point that if we keep going, I want you to ask, not assume.”

  Daniil nodded slowly. “Good. My apology stands.” He stopped pacing and glanced at me. “Beth, would you please move in with me?”

  I nodded once curtly. He had given me what I needed. “Yes, I will.” Sleeping next to him every night? Seeing him every morning and night? Not really a hardship.

  He started pacing again. “Now, for the always asking issue. I’m not really used to that.”

  Deciding to finally bring this up, I asked slowly, “Did your late wife really let you boss her around?” He never said anything about her. I didn’t know how to take that. He had spent a large portion of his life with her, and not one word other than how she died had he ever said.

  Daniil stilled. “You’re nothing like her.” I heard him mutter under his breath, “Thank God.” And he started pacing again.

  I didn’t say anything then because I finally got my first clue, things weren’t perfect between them. Not a subject I wanted to touch right now. It wasn’t the time for that.

  Daniil said slowly, “I will compromise that if your life is not in immediate danger, I will ask first about routine issues.” He ran a hand through his hair. “I’m a born protector and leader, Beth. I always have been. That’s who I am. I can’t just stop that part of me.” He stopped and faced me. “That’s what I can give on the compromise.”

  He stared, and I nibbled at my lip, asking, “What about if I’m just threatened. Will you ask me what I want to have done to the person threatening me? The person would be coming for me, after all. I should have a say in their outcome.” Poppy seeds were dancing in my mind. I sure as hell hadn’t gotten a say in that.

  Daniil scowled, and I didn’t comment because it actually appeared he was thinking this through before barking out a no. He growled, “You want a say in their welfare?”

  “Yes.”

  He actually bared his teeth.

  I mumbled, “Wrinkles, Daniil.”

  His mouth snapped shut, and his face cleared. “So, when this asshole is brought to me tomorrow, what would you plan to do with him?”

  My thoughts emptied. “I honestly have no clue.” I didn’t. What did someone do to someone else who threatened them obscenely, but knew they were probably capable of more?

  He nodded. “You really don’t know what you’re asking for, Beth. You’ve never had to deal with this.” He stated softly, “Just let me take care of these issues.”

  I shook my head. “No. They’ll all end up dead if I do that.”

  His soft expression disappeared and turned fierce again, as he slashed a hand through the air, and he hissed furiously. “That fucker should be dead after I question him. Would you want to meet him in a back alley? Be drugged and raped? Have him choke you to death while he’s doing it?” He took a step forward. “Because that’s what he will do to you if he got you alone. What he said to you wasn’t nearly as sick as what he said to me. He has plans for you. And it won’t just stop with him now that the world knows about you.” He then shouted, “Just let me handle these things! Without argument!”

  I stood my ground. Barely. “When it comes to people coming after me, I want a say. I don’t know what the hell I’m really doing, and you know this, but I want to try. Not everyone deserves to die.”

  He shouted, throwing his hands in the air, and resumed his pacing. I hoped he didn’t get this angry with everyone. It couldn’t be good for his heart.

  “Fine!” he continued shouting. “I will let you in on those issues as long as you’re not in immediate danger. But if you are, I have the right to blow the fucker’s head off!” He glanced at me, utterly pissed. “Are we done here, my sweet?” Again with the endearment being used not so…sweetly.

  “Yes, my dear,” I stated back just as pissy as he had. Heh. Now he had an endearment I could use against him when I was mad. “That works for me.” Hell, it wasn’t really any different from a cop using lethal force when needed. Just not exactly legal…but better than the alternative…which would be everyone dead who looked at me crossways.

  “Wonderful,” he shouted, banging the door open and storming out of the room.

  “Perfect,” I hollered after him, quickly following on his heels.

  Both of us erupted back into the dining room, practically banging shoulders as we went through the archway to see who got in the room first. Pretty childish really, but it was our first real argument where actual communication was used, neither one of us completely satisfied with the outcome.

  Everyone kept talking, but covert glances were pointed our way, and Daniil growled a little at me, scowling before walking away, and I whispered after him, “Wrinkles.” It was low enough where I was certain only he had heard, but I could have sworn Carl choked on his drink, staring at us.

  He stopped in his tracks and glanced over his shoulder at me. Yeah, I was seeing some kind of threat there, but I pointed to my forehead and eyes, and gave him a saucy wink before I turned my back on him and marched stiffly over to my parents…and stole my dad’s bread.

  Mom’s eyebrows rose as she sat back relaxed even knowing she was going to be fired. “First fight?”

  I growled, sounding a lot like Daniil, and stayed mute chewing my bread and glaring at him across the room where he glared right back even as he talked to Grigori and Roman.

  Mom chuckled. “Well, you’re still breathing so he must have shown some restraint,” I grunted, knowing he had, but not appreciating Mom’s joke. “May I ask what it was about since there are so many things to choose from?”

  I hissed, “Not funny.”

  “But no less true.”

  I chomped into the bread again, tal
king around it, “I had to put my foot down. He just can’t assume I’m going to do what he says all the time.” Mom nodded and Dad looked amused. “And there’s the issue of him wanting to kill everyone who insults me. I don’t want everyone with a bullet in their head.”

  Dad looked positively entertained, glancing quickly at Daniil and back to me. “How did that go over?”

  “As long as I’m not in immediate danger, he won’t blow,” I used finger quotes, “the fuckers head off,” I bit into the bread again, “and he’ll talk to me to decide how I would like to handle it. If I am in immediate danger…well…I compromised and there might be some unattached heads.”

  My dad paused and turned and walked out of the room…and then I heard him start laughing out in the hallway.

  Mom’s lips twitched. “Well, that’s a start, I guess.”

  “A biggie, really,” Ember stated from where she was eavesdropping next to us, leaning against the table next to Zane.

  “Butt out,” I griped and went to bite into my bread…and saw it was missing a large section that I hadn’t put there. I glared at the wicked redheaded bitch next to me. “I’m pregnant! With triplets! Quit stealing my food!”

  She popped the bread into her mouth and grinned. God, I realized I was going to have to be around her even more often, too, since she had been staying over here, her children separating their time between here and Cole and Brent’s house. I groaned, and she patted my cheek, grinning even more and then cheerfully saying, “Welcome to the family. It’ll be an experience unlike any you’ve ever known.” She chuckled deep like Count Dracula.

  “You’re not funny,” I stated bluntly, finishing off my bread before she could.

  “That was funny.”

  “No. It wasn’t.”

  Being driven in an armored limo with bodyguards—three in the limo with me and three in a car behind me—I tried to ignore them on my way to work and figure out a way to end mine and Daniil’s feud. I learned last night when we fight…well, we really fight. He doesn’t like to change his ways and I didn’t like changing mine. So, the battle of wills lasted all night.

  My stuff was delivered close to nine o’clock, and I had unpacked my clothes in his closet—more like banged around, throwing stuff—while he scowled from his desk in his living room. At ten, I was tuckered out emotionally and psychically, and seeing him still there glaring at me, I closed the door and locked it, pushing his heavy as sin dresser in front of it.

  He heard me grunting, and banged on the door and hollered for a while, but honestly, I hadn’t wanted to sleep with the growling sourpuss. I set the alarm clock and lay on the bed. I knew there were no hidden staircases or hidden doors in his bedroom since he had shown me all of those the middle of last week. After about an hour of curses and Russian spouts, he shut up and left me alone.

  I woke up to puke all by myself. Showered all by myself. Even ate breakfast without him since he was passed out on the couch with a tiny blanket over him. I felt like shit now, but I didn’t really know how to end it. And the bad part was I knew I couldn’t until after tonight with the guy who threatened me on the phone. I had to make sure Daniil saw I was serious. And…well, it sucked.

  I sighed, lost in my own thoughts. I blinked when I recognized we had pulled up to my work. Daniil had growled through the door last night I would be having three guards with me at all times while the other three hung back.

  Right now, I was grateful.

  There was a mess of reporters—some I even worked with—in front of my office building and there were also news crews. God, I wasn’t enjoying having a sure-to-be-fired conversation with my editor. I was pretty sure my mom wasn’t the only one getting canned today.

  I straightened my navy suit jacket, and pushed some curls behind my ear, and nodded to Trofim—the only guard I thought I’d had previously—and he spoke into an earpiece. The three guards who were driving behind us got out of their car and pushed some of the reporters back before Trofim got out in front of me, the other two, which I hadn’t caught their names yet, following behind me.

  I kept my head down as flashes went off and questions were zinged at me from everywhere. I was jostled, but it was only from the bodyguards keeping me on track to the front door, the other three doing a damn fine job of keeping the pushy reporters at bay. And then I heard Micah’s voice as he shouted, “Is it a boy or a girl?”

  I glanced in the direction of his voice, tapped Trofim’s shoulder, and pointed to Micah. I wanted a word with him. Trofim made way for Micah, who quickly stepped beside me as we made our way into the building. The only reporters who followed were the ones I worked with.

  I stayed silent, and so did Micah, until we got onto the elevator, squeezed between all six bodyguards, and that’s when I stated, “I hope you’re happy, Micah. I’m sure to lose my job today.”

  He cocked his head at me. “You don’t need to worry about money with Daniil as your baby’s daddy.”

  I turned toward him, pissed off, the bodyguards making room for me. “Don’t even expect to get a word out of me to confirm your fucking article. And I don’t want anyone’s money. I love what I do. I wanted my damn job! I didn’t do a thing wrong, and I’m about to lose it because some snot nosed little upstart decided to make his career from my personal life. I hadn’t realized this before, but I do now. A little word of advice, Micah—not everything should be in print when you ruin someone’s livelihood all because of who they might or might not be sleeping with.” I shook my head at him. “You fucked up and you don’t even realize it.”

  His eyebrows rose in a bored manner. “So, are you or are you not pregnant with Daniil’s baby?” He completely ignored what I had just said.

  And I was smart enough to know a thing or two. Glaring, I glanced over his shoulder at two of the guards before we hit my floor. Each of them grabbed one of his arms, and he started struggling, but I ignored that and reached inside his jacket pocket, pulling out a tape recorder that was running, recording our conversation. I clicked it off and dropped it to the ground, slamming my heel into it, shattering the thing all over the short gray carpet.

  And then ground it in for good measure, hissing at him, “You can go fuck yourself and your damn article. Any possibilities of friendship or contact that we might have been able to start, you just ruined by not listening to someone with a helluva lot more experience than you have. You make friends with the people you write about, not act like they’re an adolescent twit because that gets you nowhere. Get a fucking clue, you dipshit.”

  I glanced over his shoulder and nodded at the guards, thanking them for their efforts since he was pretty damn squirrelly in their holds. “Don’t kill him, please.” I had to make sure they knew I wasn’t into that.

  One smirked, but they both nodded. I wondered how much bodyguards talked and if they knew about Daniil’s and my argument. They had been standing outside the door to the study like freaking sentinels.

  Micah’s eyes went wide at what I said, and I smirked, tapping my temple as the elevator dinged and opened. My three standing bodyguards moved out first and I followed, only one coming out behind me, the other two going to dispose of the ‘trash’ I assumed. My editor was leaning against the wall outside the elevator—not good—and cocked his head glancing through the bodyguards and me, more than likely seeing Micah being restrained inside the elevator.

  His lips twitched and he stated, as the doors closed, “I never liked that little bugger. He actually applied here before taking his current position.” His eyes twinkled at me, glancing around at the guards. “You’ve got some interesting friends, I see.”

  I cleared my throat. “Clifford, I can explain.”

  He nodded, crossing his arms and ankles.

  “Can we go inside, perhaps?” I gestured toward the double glass door on our right where tons of activity was already in motion.

  “Elizabeth. If we go in there, all of those reporters are going to surround you. You know this.”

  I bit
my lip. “You aren’t even going to let me clean my desk off, are you?”

  He jerked his head to the right.

  There, off to the side under a water fountain, was a box full of my personal effects. Feeling tears spring to my eyes, I lowered my head to hide them and stated, “I can work from home. Revise articles. Edit them.”

  Clifford snorted. “You’re wonderful at reporting, but I always have to review your work before printing it. Your editing skills are not exactly up-to-par.” I heard him sigh and saw him take a step forward, bending a little to see my face. “Look, Elizabeth, I’m not firing you. I’m just putting you on a temporary leave of absence. There’s no way you can work effectively with this type of upheaval going on.” He cleared his throat. “Things should cool down in a few months.”

  “I’ll probably be on bed rest by then!” I snapped, feeling tears fall down my cheeks, utterly pissed and hurt that I was being ‘temporarily’ let go even though I knew it was more than likely coming. But, then again, knowing and doing are two completely different things. And then…I realized what I had said. I sucked in a breath, glancing up at him.

  He wore a slightly crooked grin, his hands behind his back, rocking back and forth on his heels. “I think for your safety’s sake and mine, I’m going to forget you ever said that…or even why you would have to be on bedrest. But I do need a particular timeframe of when you might be able to come back so I can get a temp in here.”

  I sucked in another harsh breath, realizing he was going to be quiet. This was the difference between a good reporter and a bad one—Clifford vs. Micah. I stated softly, “Thank you.” He nodded, and I cleared my throat, wiping some of my tears away but fuck if they didn’t keep coming. “I imagine I could come back to work in,” I tried to do the math of what the doctor said on normal triplet births, “probably eight or nine months.” That would give me a few months with my babies before entering the workforce again.