by Roxie Rivera
Lingering in the doorway, he watched the way she moved around the kitchen with ease, tending a pan on the gas stove and keeping an eye on something in the built-in ovens at the same time. She was totally at home in this environment.
Sensing his presence, Shay glanced back at him. “I’m almost finished.”
“I’m in no rush.” And he really wasn’t. He would find any excuse to enjoy every single moment of his first morning with Shay in his home.
He entered the kitchen and placed the envelopes on the counter, out of the way. He noticed the damp towel draped over the back of one of the tall chairs at the counter. Shay had quickly and loosely braided her damp hair to get it out of the way. He gave the end of her braid a playful tug as he passed behind her to reach the coffee pot. “Do you want some coffee?”
“No.”
“I think I have some orange juice in the refrigerator.” He wasn’t ever sure what he had in there, to be honest. Denise kept the place stocked with the things he liked, and he magically never seemed to run out.
“That’s fine.” She returned her attention to the breakfast she was cooking. He glanced at the stove as his coffee sputtered into its cup and watched her spread some of the creamy white béchamel she’d made onto the golden brown ham and cheese sandwiches she had been toasting in the oven. She carefully slipped the pan back into the oven before flipping the eggs she was frying.
Alexei put away the ingredients she had finished using and poured a glass of juice for her. He set the table in the breakfast nook and had just taken his seat when she brought over two plates with piping hot croque-madame. There was a sprinkling of chives on top of each egg. She had decorated each plate with thinly sliced oranges twisted to form figure eights and sliced, fanned strawberries.
“You didn’t have to go to all this trouble. I’m glad that you did because it looks delicious, and I’m starving, but I would have been happy with a bowl of oatmeal.”
“Remember that tomorrow when I slide a bowl of gruel in front of you,” she warned and took her seat.
“It wouldn’t be the first time I’ve eaten watery thin kasha for breakfast.” He stabbed his fork into the soft yolk and watched the yellow cream mix with the béchamel. “That’s standard prison fare.”
He was just cutting through his sandwich when he noticed Shay wasn’t moving. He glanced up and frowned at her stricken face. “What is it?”
“I’m so sorry, Alexei. I shouldn’t have made a joke like that.”
“Shay,” he said with a quiet laugh, “it doesn’t bother me to talk about that part of my life.” He paused to reflect. “What I should say is that it doesn’t bother me to talk about that part of my life with you.”
“Why doesn’t it bother you to talk about prison with me?” She seemed genuinely curious.
“I don’t know,” he admitted uncomfortably.
Shay popped her egg yolk with the tines of her fork. “Maybe you don’t mind talking to me because you know I won’t judge you. I’m basically the poster child for a dysfunctional family.”
“Maybe,” he agreed quietly. Her mention of dysfunctional families made him think of those scars on her back. Asking her about them in the bedroom or shower had seemed like a bad idea. He didn’t want her to feel attacked or self-conscious about her body. Here in the kitchen, he felt relatively safe asking her about them. “Shay?”
“Mmm-hmm?”
“Can we talk about the scars on your back?”
Shay froze. Like a deer caught in the headlights, she panicked right in front of him. She opened her mouth and then shut it quickly. Focusing all of her attention on her breakfast, she stabbed at it with her fork. “No, we can’t.”
“Shay,” he pushed gently, “I’ve told you about my tattoos. The stories behind these,” he gestured to the markings on his left hand, “are surely a thousand times worse than the story about your back.”
“You’re probably right, but it’s my story to tell when I’m ready to tell it.”
“And when will that be?”
She dropped her fork. It bounced off her plate with a noisy clatter. Exasperated, she asked, “Seriously, Alexei, what is the big deal? They’re scars. End of story.”
“If it’s not a big deal, you should have no problem telling me how they happened.” Unable to comprehend why she was being so cagey about this, he began to fear something truly horrific had happened to her. Worried he might unknowingly do something to trigger pain or fear, he insisted, “I think I have the right to know about your body.”
“Why would you think that? Because we had sex? You think have ownership over me?” Obviously angered by his remark, she said, “I’m not a car, Alexei. You don’t get a rundown of all my dings and scratches before you buy me.”
Realizing he had pushed too far, he hurried to fix things between them. “I didn’t mean it like that, Shay. I only meant that I think I have the right to know who hurt you.”
“Why? Look, it happened a long time ago. It’s done. It’s over. I don’t want to think about any of that ever again, okay?” Her appetite gone, she stood up and grabbed her plate. Before retreating to the sink, she snapped, “If the scars bother you that much, I’m sure you can find someone else to sleep with, Alexei.”
“Stop right there, Shay!” He was on his feet in an instant and intercepted her before she reached the island. Taking the plate from her hand, he set it aside and then gripped both of her small hands in his larger ones. Knowing that he had caused the pain and embarrassment that was etched into her face made him feel like the biggest dick in the world.
“Shay,” he whispered, trying to figure out how to make it right. “Malysh.” He pulled her in tight and touched his forehead to hers. “I didn’t mean to upset you like this. It was stupid of me to push and push like that.”
He lifted his head and gazed down at her, trying to gauge her emotional state. Her lower lib wobbled precariously, and he knew that apology wasn’t enough. She needed to know why.
Stroking her cheek, he explained, “Our first night together, I didn’t have all the facts, and I hurt you.” She opened her mouth to argue with him, but he silenced her gently with a finger against her soft lips. “I did hurt you, Shay. I don’t ever want to hurt you again. If something happened to you, if someone hurt you so badly they left scars, I need to know how it happened so that I never do anything that might make you think of person or that time when we’re alone together.”
Not sure she understood exactly what he meant, he continued, “I’ve popped your backside three or four times since we’ve been together, Shay. I grabbed your wrists that first night and held you down while I made love to you and—”
“I liked it,” she admitted quietly. “I really like it when you do those things.” With a blush in her cheeks, she said, “I hope you don’t stop just because of some scars on my back.”
“I told you before, Shay. You’re in control of that part of our life together. Whatever you want, I’ll give you.”
She nodded once. Then, with a tired sigh, she said, “Unless your bedroom kink includes beating me with an extension cord and then locking me in a dark closet for two days, I don’t think you need to worry about setting me off on some spiral into my horrible childhood memories.”
Alexei sucked in a sharp breath at her description of the events that had led to the scars on her back. The shock he felt was quickly subsumed by raging fury. “How old were you?”
“Ten,” she said.
He remembered seeing the photos of Shay and her sister when they were younger on the walls of her house. Just imagining that sweet, innocent pigtailed little girl treated so brutally sickened him. He wanted to hurt someone for her. It might be thirteen years too late, but he wanted to give her justice. “What was his name?”
“What?” She seemed confused by his question.
“The man who hit you,” he clarified. “Tell me his name.”
She put a soothing hand on his chest. “It wasn’t a man.” She hesitated befor
e admitting, “It was my mother.”
“Why?” He couldn’t think of any reason a mother would beat a child so terribly.
Shay dropped her gaze to the floor, and instantly, he knew he wasn’t going to like what she had to say. “I came home one afternoon, and Mom’s boyfriend was trying to hurt Shannon. He had her boxed into a corner and had his hand up her skirt. I didn’t know what else to do so I hit him with my backpack and kicked him.”
He wanted to ask what happened next, but he didn’t want to interrupt or pressure her. She needed to tell this story in her own time.
“Shannon ran out the back door, and she left me there with him. I think she was so traumatized that she wasn’t thinking straight.”
Bullshit, he thought angrily. Even back then, Shannon was only concerned with herself.
“He got up and…” Shay’s voice faded. After a few tense seconds, she said, “He sort of leered at me and then he told me that if I was jealous of his attention toward Shannon he had plenty to give me.”
Oh no. God, no, Alexei silently begged.
“I backed up into the kitchen, and he kept coming toward me. He was excited, but I didn’t really understand it then. It wasn’t until I was a little older that I understood it all the things he said to me and the way he was touching himself.”
Shay gripped her left wrist with her right hand and rhythmically squeezed it in a way that could only be described as a nervous tic. Not wanting her to feel alone right now, he took her hand and interlaced their fingers, giving her something to squeeze and hold onto for support.
“But he made a mistake backing me into that kitchen,” Shay said, her voice stronger now. “I had done the dishes the night before so they were laid out neatly in the dish rack. I grabbed a knife, and I cut him.” She touched her arm and chest and neck. “I just slashed at him. It wasn’t very deep, but he was bleeding everywhere when Mom walked into the house. She had just gotten off a double shift, and she lost it when she saw the blood and the knife.”
Knowing what a kind, gentle soul Shay was, he could hardly fathom how terrified she must have been to lash out in violence to protect herself. “What do you mean? Lost it how?”
“He started telling her all this bullshit about me and Shannon, telling her that we were lying little whores and that we wanted to break them up because we wanted him all to ourselves. He told her that we flirted with him all the time when she was at work and that we liked to walk around half-naked after our showers in the evening. She just ate it right up. He said he was leaving, and they started fighting. It was awful, and I just—I wanted to get out of there, but I didn’t know where to go. It was almost Christmas, and it was so cold…”
“And your mother took her anger out on you,” Alexei guessed, doing everything he could to hide the disgust he felt.
“Pretty much,” Shay sadly agreed.
Alexei had never hit a woman in his life, but an exception would have to be made if he ever crossed paths with Shay’s mother.
“Shannon came home two nights later, and I was still locked in the closet. She got me out of there and took me to Ruben’s apartment. He was living on his own by then, and he and Shannon had already been making plans to run off and get married as soon as she was old enough. But then Mom split and Shannon’s dreams of getting married went with her.”
“Is that why you let Shannon get away with so much?” He was finally starting to understand the depth of Shay’s guilt when it came to her older sister. If she imagined herself to be the reason her sister wasn’t able to get married and start a new life, there was nothing she wouldn’t do to help Shannon now.
“The Shannon you know isn’t the Shannon I grew up with,” Shay insisted.
“If you say so,” he replied.
“I do say so—and I know what you’re going to ask next,” Shay said with a frown. “You’re going to ask about that boyfriend of Mom’s.”
“I was,” he admitted. “He deserves what he’s got coming to him.”
“He deserved a lot of things, but he’s dead.”
“When? How?”
Shay shrugged uncertainly. “New Year’s Eve of that year. He was stabbed to death in the bathroom at a club.”
“Ruben?” For a young man with aspirations toward the inner circle of a street game, the dishonor that was done to Shannon would never have been allowed to stand. Ruben would have been expected to spill blood to avenge Shannon.
Shay nodded. “For all his faults, he loves Shannon. He would do anything for her.”
Alexei didn’t correct her verb tense. It was better that she referred to Ruben as alive rather than dead, especially if Eric Santos was going to be snooping around her.
Cupping the back of her neck, he tilted her head back and held her gaze. “Are we all right?”
“We’re good.”
“I’m sorry I upset you.” He kissed her lovingly. “I didn’t mean to ruin our morning.”
“You didn’t ruin it.” She kissed him right back. “We’re probably going to argue like this more often than either of us would like. Especially right now,” she added, “when our relationship is so new.”
“I wouldn’t know,” he replied carefully. “The women I dated before you didn’t argue with me.”
She actually snorted with laughter. Arching one of those winged brows at him, she warned, “Don’t expect a free pass from me.”
“I wouldn’t dream of it.” He didn’t tell her that he sometimes enjoyed the way she pushed back. He needed a woman who wouldn’t let him get away with bullshit. He needed a woman brave enough to call him out when it was required.
Holding her hand, he picked up her plate and led her back to the table. He made himself a second cup of coffee before joining her.
“Is it okay if Kylee comes over today?” she asked in between bites.
He was struck by the uncomfortable way her query made him think of a child’s relationship with a parent. Their relationship already had problems of inequality when it came it money, age and experience. He didn’t want to add another layer to that. “Shay, you don’t need to ask permission to have guests.”
“But, at the penthouse, you said—”
“That was different.” He cringed at the memory of the things he had said to her there. Fuck. She must have thought he was a controlling asshole with all his rules and stipulations! Now, knowing what he did of her experience with men and relationships, he realized that it had obviously never occurred to her to negotiate with him. That was part of the give-and-take between mistresses and their benefactors.
Wanting a fresh start, he stated, “The arrangement between us has changed. I would prefer to be told before you have guests in the house only because I’m concerned about your safety. This home is your home.”
She pushed food around her plate. “For how long?”
Forever. But he didn’t say that. It would scare her if she found out he was thinking long-term after only a few days. She needed time to get comfortable with their living arrangement and to decide that she wanted to stay with him. “For as long as you would like,” he said instead.
She seemed satisfied with that response. “Do you mind if I work in here? I have some orders that need to be finished this week.”
“You can set up your workshop wherever you’d like. The kitchen probably has the most available space.” He glanced around the room and sized up the work surfaces. “But you might like the privacy of my office more. Denise rarely goes in there so she won’t bother you much.”
“When does she get here?”
“Around ten.” He glanced at his watch to make sure he had enough time to get to the dealership in time to prepare for the morning sales floor meeting. “I let her come in late because she takes her grandchildren to school. Her daughter works an overnight shift at one of the hospitals downtown. She’s usually out of here by two or three so you’ll have the house to yourself most of the day.”
“Except for Stas.”
“Yes, and that remi
nds me…” He lifted his hips so he could get his hand into the pocket of his trousers to retrieve the keys. Taking her hand, he turned it over and placed the keys on her palm. “These are yours. This key opens the front door. This one opens the door between the mud room and the garage. This one opens the lockbox in the garage where I store the keys to my vehicles. You may drive any of them.”
Alexei closed her fingers around the keys. “You’re the only with these keys. Denise has a garage door opener that allows her into her parking space, and I leave the side door open for her. Stas will need you to open doors for him. You’ll have to pick the car you’d like him to drive each day.”
“Do you have, like, a minivan with two different colored doors and maybe rusted out rims? Because I’d really like to see Stas driving that around town today,” she said with some irritation.
“Shay,” he said carefully, “Stas isn’t used to dealing with women. He’s a street soldier. You have to make some allowances for his behavior. Not all of it, but some of it. I spoke with Stas yesterday and made it very clear that he isn’t to upset you again.”
Shay sat back in her chair and played with the keys he had given her. “I don’t think he meant to be a jerk. I think he really was trying to be helpful. In his own way, he was trying to protect me.”
“That’s what I pay him to do.”
“For how long?” Shay twirled the key ring around her finger. “I don’t think he actually enjoys this line of work.”
“It doesn’t matter what he enjoys or doesn’t enjoy,” Alexei said matter-of-factly. “Nikolai owns him. He’ll do what the boss says or he’ll find himself on a plane back to New York.”
“Did Nikolai own you?” Shay bravely asked.
“Maksim, his boss, did,” Alexei explained. “When Nikolai got the green light to come here, I jumped ship and came with him.” Motioning around them, he said, “It worked out for the best. I’ve made more money here than I ever dreamed possible.”
“Is it all legit?” she asked carefully.
He wasn’t sure he was ready to divulge all the dirty details of his rise to this level of wealth. “Every penny in my bank accounts today is legit. It’s all clean.”