by Stacy Gail
“Shut up and fuck me,” she’d gritted out, reaching behind herself for his hips, even as she shoved her ass harder against his stiffened flesh. Then he’d lifted her skirt, ripped her panties off and undid his jeans just enough before he bent her over the counter, spread her legs wide and slid inside of her.
The sensation of her slick heat sheathing him, coupled with her whispering his name with every thrust had almost made him forget that he had a mission to complete. He’d reached around and rolled her clit beneath his stroking fingers while surging long and hard into her, filling her emptiness again and again until she came hard enough to cry out, her body lying full out on the counter while one leg curled around the outside of his. That was when he’d let the hold he had on his control sink into the intensifying waves of pleasure, and he came so hard his thrusts pushed her fully up onto the counter.
And only then did he realize he didn’t know if the cameras in her apartment were now off.
Wisely he hadn’t mentioned that to her, but he did relocate them into the bedroom as quickly as possible and set about exhausting her even further. Finally, after another hour of sticking to the mission, she fell into much-needed, peaceful sleep.
Even though he had exhausted himself in his quest to make her sleep, Rude had lain awake deep into the night with Sass curled into his side. He was a trained soldier who knew what to do when there was a defined enemy or threat. But how the hell was he supposed to protect Sass from biological ties? It was as fucked up as trying to wage war on the blood that flowed in her veins. It couldn’t be done.
In the end, as he’d drifted off just as the sky began to lighten in the east, the only conclusion he came to was that he’d take it one minute at a time. His only goal was to make sure that whatever waited for them at the end of this road trip didn’t crush her.
Now, as he kept his eyes on the road, he reached over her for her hand and brought it to his mouth. “It’s not every day you meet your father for the first time. He’s probably feeling the same way—wondering if you’ll think it’s cool he’s got an epic comb-over, maybe even praying that you’ll be able to understand what the fuck he’s saying despite his thick Russian accent.”
“Does he have an epic comb-over and a thick Russian accent?”
“No idea. I’m just guessing.”
Her chuckle lightened the tension like magic. Her next words brought it crashing back. “You’re too good to me, Rude. Here you are making me laugh, when all the crazy crap in my life has totally screwed up yours. I’m so sorry about that.”
“Goddamn it.” In a heartbeat he pulled over to the side of the twisting two-lane road heading into Barrington Hills, put the car in park and turned to face her. “Tell me you didn’t just say that.”
Her eyes widened. “What, that I’m sorry?”
“That bullshit about screwing up my life with your life.”
“It’s not bullshit if it’s true.”
Damn it. She really couldn’t see the problem. “When I thought Scorpio was sniffing around because of something in my background, would you have been okay with me putting distance between us by me saying shit about my life and your life, and making sure they were kept separate?”
Understanding bloomed in her eyes. “Wait, Rude—”
“There is no your life and my life, Sass. Not anymore. Your problems, your worries, all the crap you carry around inside and think you can’t risk sharing it with me because you’re scared you’ll be too much trouble… baby, you can trust me with all of it.”
Her gasp was so shocked, so ragged, it told him more than she ever would that he’d hit a bull’s eye. “How do you…I’ve never told you that.”
“You never had to. I know you, but you don’t seem to know me. At least, not enough to know that I want all of you—the good and the bad. It’ll be safe with me, just as I know all of my bad shit’s going to be safe with you. I know this, because I trust you. And I know that I trust you, because I’ve already trashed the old way of thinking about it as my life, and I’ve gotten used to thinking of it as our life. Give it a try, see what happens.”
As he watched, a sheen of wetness glittered in her eyes, but her chin elevated, as if that alone would keep the tears from falling. “And what if this visit today is just the tip of the iceberg when it comes to problems? What then?”
“Then we change our names and move to Canada. I hear they’re nicer up there and they finish every sentence with eh. Sounds like fun.”
“At least it won’t be boring.” A flash of humor lessened those tears she refused to let fall, and it was her turn to reach out and grasp his hand. “If we can get through today without anyone dying or at the very least regretting the day we ever met, I think we’ll have a fighting chance.”
“If that’s the case, I’ll declare Operation Sassy Pants a moderate success.” He cupped her chin to bring her mouth to his for a long, deep kiss. Then he let her go and looked over his shoulder at oncoming traffic. “Jury’s still out on whether or not it’ll be a complete one.”
“You and that Operation Sassy Pants of yours. What would be complete success in your book?”
“You’ll know it when we get there,” he promised and pulled back out onto the road.
The butterflies in Sass’s stomach were more like rabid pterodactyls bent on destroying her from the inside out. But the first sight of Borysko Vitaliev’s property was enough to make her forget all about them.
“Holy shit,” Rude muttered.
“I’ll second that and raise you a snarky comment about crime paying, after all. Is it too late to change careers?”
“I don’t know. Have I ever seen you in orange?”
“Good point. It’s really not my color. I’m more of a winter.” The spiked, black wrought iron gate leading into the property was impressive, as was the paved, tree-lined drive itself. As crimson leaves fell around them, they drove past a waterfall emptying out into a small pond with a fountain spray in the middle. It was perfect and so meticulously manicured she couldn’t help but wonder if they had the wrong place and were actually driving through some hoity-toity golf course. Then the house came into view around a graceful bend, and her jaw dropped as they rolled past a low wall outlining a circular driveway in front of the house’s main entrance.
Holy freaking crap.
Looming beyond the circular driveway was a sprawling, European-style Tudor mansion that wanted badly to be a castle, with its many turrets and steeply pitched rooflines. Within the drive’s cobblestone circle was a fountain, at the center of which stood a statue of the Three Muses, accented in what looked to be gold leaf. Manicured rose bushes lined the walkway leading to shallow stone steps, where more statues, also accented with gold leaf, stood on either side of the door.
In silence, Rude pulled the SUV up directly in front of the entrance and turned off the engine. Sass stared at the wooden doors, intricately carved to show some ancient battle that had people on horses and soldiers carrying bayonets. For a full second, she considered telling Rude to turn the engine over and hit the gas so they could hightail it out of there. Waterfalls and cobblestone driveways and freaking golden statues were way out of her league. The estate was a monument to greatness, and every inch of it was designed to intimidate and dominate, as well as house a family. In fact, the family aspect didn’t seem to be that much in evidence. She had a feeling this house hadn’t been built to raise a family in; instead it seemed to exist for the sole purpose of declaring that the owner had power. That the owner was power.
But what did power matter now that the owner was dying?
To famiglia. The most important thing in the world, and the one thing that makes a man rich beyond compare.
As she stared up at the imposing façade, she figured her foster father knew what the hell he was talking about.
With that in mind, she glanced over at Rude, who was looking singularly unimpressed. “So? What do you think?”
“I think it’d be in bad taste for me to say you
r biological pop’s probably got a dinky dick and is overcompensating in a big way, so I’m not gonna say it. But holy fuck, I’m thinking it.”
She burst out laughing just as the front door opened and Scorpio stepped out with a faint smile, again wearing a suit with a price tag that undoubtedly exceeded her monthly grocery bill by a wide margin.
“You’re in the right place,” he said, reading her mind and opening the door wider. “Come on in.”
As Rude pocketed the keys and came around to help her out of the SUV, Sass held on tight to his hand as they were led into a cavernous foyer complete with marble columns, a sparkling crystal chandelier and a grand piano. When Rude had contacted Scorpio to set up this meeting, he’d made it plain that she wasn’t going anywhere without him, and at that moment a vivid rush of gratitude at his foresight hit her hard. She wasn’t sure she’d have the courage to face her biological father without Rude’s support. Having his rock-solid, unshakable strength beside her made her feel like she could get through anything.
Even this.
“About six months ago, the old man had the sunroom renovated to look more like the solarium at that place you and your friends hit, what’s it called…Secret Garden.” As he spoke, Scorpio led them past a large gathering room flanked on either end by massive fireplaces, and an atrium with an indoor waterfall. “He must’ve liked the look of it.”
“Did he, now?” Walking a pace or two behind Scorpio, Rude’s expression was cool and calm, but for some reason it made her blood run cold. “Took a lot of pictures of Sass to show your boss, did you?”
“Me or the other guy who watched over her while you were off being a war hero, yeah. We’re both glad you’re back to take over watchdog duties,” Scorpio added dryly, glancing back at him. “Everyone’s resting a lot easier now that you’re in the picture, especially my employer. He’s a worrier.”
Sass wanted badly to point out that, considering his chosen profession, Borysko Vitaliev probably had every reason to worry. But at that moment they walked through an open set of French doors and into a semi-circular room filled with bright afternoon sunshine, thriving green plants and white furniture. Faint music played from hidden speakers, something classical and unobtrusive, but all of that faded for Sass as she focused on an elderly man seated at a white table, the top of which was inlaid with a swirling mosaic of mother-of-pearl. She couldn’t see the table’s full design thanks to a folder sitting on top of it. An oxygen tank sat unobtrusively behind the man, but the tubing with the nostril intake was currently hanging on the tank’s handle, unused.
The man himself looked surprisingly robust, even if he was seated. He was dressed rather formally for an at-home meeting in a three-piece dark gray suit, white shirt and royal purple silk tie. Seeing him, she thanked her lucky stars that she hadn’t chosen to wear jeans. She had at first, then changed her mind half a dozen times before Rude came in, plucked up an outfit off the bed and told her to get her ass in gear or he’d leave without her. If he hadn’t done that, she’d no doubt still be dithering.
She had to admit, Rude had excellent taste. He’d chosen a form-hugging black sweater dress, purple silk infinity scarf, black tights and purple and black suede stiletto ankle boots. It wasn’t too dressy, but much better than jeans. She’d slicked her dark hair up into a neat, braided bun, added some chunky jewelry and hoped she didn’t look like she was trying too hard to impress the man she never thought she’d meet.
Her father.
Without speaking, Borysko Vitaliev raised a hand and beckoned them forward.
Chapter Twenty-Seven
“Let’s go, babe.” Rude bent low to whisper the encouragement, his hand gently tugging on hers to get her going. She barely felt it. For some reason her skin had decided to turn to ice, and she could hear the thundering of her heart. This was it. This was the moment every lost, abandoned and orphaned child secretly dreamed of—meeting someone who belonged to them. It was the one thing she’d known she’d never have, and now that it was here she could hardly breathe. With all her strength she tried to not hope for anything. That was the smart thing to do. Life in the system had taught her that hope inevitably led to hurt.
With a breath that shook, she took a step forward.
Please like me. Please, please, please like me.
Another step.
Please be proud. I’m a good person. I’m not much. I’m nothing special. But I always try to do my best.
Another.
Oh no. I’m going to throw up. He’ll think there’s something wrong with me. I’m going to ruin everything.
She didn’t want to be there.
He’s going to hate me.
Somehow she made it to the chair at the table. Dimly she noted there was another chair beside hers, but Rude chose to stand directly behind her at parade rest, his eyes alert and clearly not relaxed. Scorpio stood in a similar manner opposite Rude and farther away, near the edge of the solarium, his gaze missing nothing.
Now that Sass was seated no more than a few feet from Borysko Vitaliev, she was able to get a better look at him. His squarish, bulldog face looked pale under the olive complexion that matched hers, and his dark eyes, the color of black coffee, were the same large, wide-set eyes that looked back at her in the mirror every day. His hair was iron gray and bristly short, and she suspected it had been either lost or shaved completely at some point recently—no doubt due to radiation treatment. And his mouth was again something she recognized in herself—surprisingly full for a man, and at the moment unsmiling.
Why wasn’t he smiling?
Maybe she wasn’t what he’d been hoping for.
Maybe he was disappointed.
Please like me…
“I knew you would wear purple.” Borysko Vitaliev’s lightly accented voice sounded loud in the quiet of the room, and she nearly jumped out of her skin. “You seem to favor that color, yes?”
She tried not to gape at him while her nerves-saturated brain struggled to make sense of the random comment. Purple? What was purple? “Um. I love purple, yes.”
“You have excellent taste. In ancient times, purple was the color of royalty, as it was so rare only rulers could afford it.” He smoothed a hand down his purple tie and tilted his head. “How do you wish for me to address you? By your given name, Sage? Or by the name you prefer, Sass?”
“Sass, please. It’s a pleasure to meet you…” Then she realized to her horror that she had no idea what to call him. Father? Shit, that was what Luke called Darth Vader. Dad? Too informal. Mr. Vitaliev, maybe. But perhaps that would be unintentionally off-putting…
“You have a foster father you’re fond of, I believe. Papa Bolo?”
Her attention swerved back to him, and again she nearly jumped when she found him studying her intently. Geez, way to make a great first impression, freak. “Yes, Bolo Panuzzi, Rude’s father. This is Rudolfo Panuzzi,” she added, falling back on rigidly polite manners, because she didn’t know what else to do.
Borysko Vitaliev’s eyes flicked to Rude behind her before returning to his intent study of her. “I’ve heard that you call him Rude.”
“I’m afraid only Sass gets the privilege of calling me by that name, sir,” came the even reply from behind her. “Friends and family generally call me Rudy.”
“I tried calling him Rude,” Scorpio offered from his side of the room. “It didn’t go well.”
A huff of what could have been laughter escaped Borysko before it ended with a cough. Scorpio immediately stepped forward but was waved off. “Such names—Sass and Rude. But these names are strong, and since you’re comfortable with them, this proves you’re as strong as they are. And since you’re also comfortable with calling your foster father Papa Bolo, you should call me Papa. It’s a familiar term for you, yes?”
“Yes.” And with that, she somehow agreed to call this perfect stranger Papa. She would suspect the world couldn’t get any more bizarre, but she didn’t want Fate to think she was offering up a challenge. �
��Forgive me, but… this thought hadn’t occurred to me until this moment, but are we certain we’re related? I mean,” she rushed on when a frown began to pull his brows together, “there’s a resemblance in our coloring maybe, but… You see, I’m just an ordinary person—a dietitian and food blogger. I’m nothing special.”
Rude’s hand came to touch her back. “Sass, what the hell? You didn’t seriously just say that, did you? You’re the toughest person I know.”
Lord help her, she loved this man, and his unflagging support was beyond fabulous. But he wasn’t helping her make her point. “It’s just that it suddenly dawned on me that we should probably look into genetic testing, or—”
“The tests were performed years ago, little Sass.”
“But… wait. How…?”
“When I first located you, I hired someone to collect your DNA from cups you threw away at the coffee shop you visited every day with your foster sisters. Your name was written on those cups, so it was easy to collect the correct samples and test it against my DNA. You’re definitely my child, and I,” Borysko added, pointing firmly to himself, “am definitely your father.”
“You can say that again,” Scorpio muttered. “I’m sending you the bill for my broken sunglasses, Sass.”
“Goodie. I’ll send you the bill for my broken shoe.”
“How about this,” Rude offered genially without missing a beat. “I beat the shit out of him for daring to touch you, thus kicking off the whole sequence of events where shit got broken, and then I take you shoe-shopping for whatever makes you happy. That way, everyone gets what they want.”
“I still don’t get my sunglasses. And did you say thus?”
“You get to live. Why can’t you be grateful?”
“Children, enough.” Borysko tapped his hand down twice on the folder sitting on the table, palm flat and not hard, but there was enough authority in it to make everyone go still. Nodding in obvious satisfaction that he’d regained control, he looked back to Sass. “Do you have any questions for me?”