Hers To Keep: THE QUINTESSENCE COLLECTION I

by Akeroyd, Serena

  He cast her a look. “You’re not ready for an orgy.”

  “Oh? How would you know?”

  “I’ve been in one,” he told her, his tone close to proud.

  She snorted. “Why does that not surprise me?” Considering the way Susanna had been drooling over him, it made perfect sense. Especially when she remembered what Sawyer had told her about the math groupies Devon had had around campus when he was at Oxford.

  “It shouldn’t surprise you, Sascha,” he told her somberly. “I wasn’t a virgin when I met you.”

  Biting back a laugh, she told him equally as somberly, “I wasn’t either, Devon.”

  That had him scowling. “I refuse to believe you’ve been in an orgy.”

  “And why’s that?” she asked, scowling back at him.

  “Because you think being with us is scandalous.”

  Shit. He had a point. “I don’t anymore.”

  “No, but the clue is in the word ‘anymore’.” He shot her a knowing look. “Don’t worry. We’ll keep on corrupting you. Slowly but surely, you’ll get used to it.”

  “I’m used to it now,” she grumbled, though she wasn’t entirely certain why she was grumbling.

  He patted her hand and just said, “There, there.”

  * * *

  Slipping off her heels, Sascha let her toes sink into the thickly-piled carpet in the living room. With a sigh of relief to be off them, and scribbling a mental reminder to wear something a little more sensible for the next class, she sank into the sofa. Nestling her ass amid the blankets she’d left in a mess only three hours before, she cuddled back into her favorite position.

  That had been a whirlwind.

  Exactly what the doctor ordered, she realized with a wide grin. A few gropes, a lot of giggles even if the instructor was a little too hands-on for her liking, and Devon had managed to make that a blast.

  If his intention had been to cheer her up, then it had certainly worked.

  Before she had a chance to do more than grin dopily, not even switch on the TV, the door opened. Expecting one of her men, she saw her father instead.

  It was still kind of weird for Henry to pop up the way he did. She was so used to him being in Tucson and her being in London, that for him to be in her space, came as a surprise.

  She really needed to get with the program.

  “Hey, Dad,” she said with a smile, then patted the seat at her side as she switched on the TV.

  “Hey, sweetheart,” he replied, shuffling over in his ratty sweats and tee shirt. She could remember him in nothing else—a Patriots fan in Arizona, the one place he didn’t have to be ashamed about his team was at home. And considering the guys followed soccer, not football, he was safe from ridicule here.

  “What are you watching?”

  “I don’t know yet,” she told him, starting to flick through the guide. “Devon and I just got back in. I’m beat.”

  “I’ll bet.” He shot her a look. “How did you like the tango classes?”

  “You knew and didn’t tell me?” she cried.

  Henry laughed. “Heard him plotting earlier in the kitchen.” He shook his head. “That boy’s a weird one.”

  She nudged him in the side. “Be nice.”

  He shrugged. “Not being mean. Just stating the truth. Never been around such an odd ball but hell, he’s funny, smart, and rich. What more can a man ask for for his daughter?”

  Probably that the funny, smart, and rich guy was the only one in her life. Not the other four who came as part of the package too, she supposed. Not that she said that out loud.

  “How was he plotting?” she asked, curious. In his own way, Devon was very decisive. The only time he hadn’t been was that night when she’d come out of her stuporous vegging session. He’d looked panicked and flustered at the sight of her in the kitchen when, only hours before, she’d been grungy and in desperate need of a shower and a toothbrush.

  Trying to understand his mind would take a lifetime though. There was no use in throwing certain questions around. She could ask Sawyer, of course. Or Sean. Ask why Devon had looked so freaked out at the sight of her cooking, and could only calm when he’d pleaded with her to admit that sometimes, women just made no sense at all…

  But the truth was, she did have a lifetime to understand him, and saw no reason to ask unnecessary questions that would be resolved with time.

  Well, unless it started happening frequently, that is.

  Her father curled an arm about her shoulder, jolting her from her musings. “Trying to work up the courage to tell you.”

  “Why?” she asked, astonished. “It’s a gift. It’s not like he was giving me bad news.”

  “God knows how the boy’s mind works,” Henry said with a grunt, then weaseled, “Let me have the remote, baby.”

  “My house, my rules,” she retorted, throwing back the dictate he’d sworn by throughout her teenage years.

  When he shot her a hurt look, as well as a pout, she rolled her eyes. “Don’t throw me the puppy dog eyes. I know your game.”

  “Had to give it a shot,” he confessed almost immediately, then pressed his lips to her temple. “How was the class anyway?”

  “Kind of disastrous for me. Although Devon rocked at it. He was like a pro within minutes. It was nuts. The teacher kept flirting with him, which was irritating but he totally ignored her when she tried to get him to practice the next part of the lesson with her.”

  He laughed. “He did? I like him more and more.”

  “Oh yeah. Devon was all, ‘I’m not here with you.’ He can be so literal sometimes.” Her mouth curved in a warm smile. “I love that about him.”

  “Anyone who can put that smile on your face, then I like them too.” He squeezed her shoulders. “You doing okay, sugar?”

  She turned her face into his arm as she confessed, “I could be better, Dad. Things are still crazy.”

  “They’ll get crazier still. The media’s been contained so far but it will get worse before it gets better.”

  She nodded, sighing with the knowledge he was right. “I just want things to be easy again.”

  “They won’t be. How can they, Sascha?” He grunted. “Hell, I should never have let you move back to the UK. All of this would have stayed under wraps.”

  She snorted. “Like you could have stopped me.”

  “True,” he conceded drily. “You barely gave me any warning at all before you moved. Just said, ‘That’s it, I’m going to London.’ My world about broke when you told me that,” he admitted. “I knew I was failing your mom, but I didn’t… what could I do? The distance between us was my fault. I know Natasha will never forgive me for it.”

  Frowning, she huddled against him. “There’s no fault to be had, Daddy.”

  “Sure there is.” His sigh was heavy. “When your mom died, Sascha, I just fell apart. I didn’t… God, I loved that woman.”

  Her throat closed at the depth of emotion in his voice. “How did you meet?”

  “We didn’t lie to you entirely,” Henry said ruefully, but his smile was sad. “Her car broke down on a road on my beat. It wasn’t the best of areas, and I went to help her. The rest, as they say, is history.”

  “But she had me by that point. How did she tell you about… everything?”

  “She didn’t. I thought you were hers.” He shrugged. “Thought that for close to three years. It never mattered. I fell for you as soon as I saw you too. You were so fucking beautiful. All big green eyes that used to follow me. You loved my badge. Got to the point where flashing it at you was the only thing that would stop you crying some nights.” He shook his head at the memory. “That and the police radio.” He reached up to run his knuckles against her hair. “You were a weird kid.”

  “Makes sense,” she told him wryly. “I’m a weirder adult.”

  “We’re all weird, honey,” he informed her, his gaze caught by something on the TV. “Anyway, we started dating. I just thought she was a single mom. It didn’
t bother me. I was just astonished she wanted to date me. She had money when you were a baby. Your…” He cleared his throat. “Biological dad had dumped a lot on her to keep you both safe. She had a decent-ish car, until it broke down, nice house. Lived a good life.

  “It was only when we got together properly she stopped depending on it. The money stayed in the bank for your college education and for big expenses. You were my daughter. I was paying as was my right.

  “In the end, it was a relief we had the money. Most of her medical expenses were covered by my insurance but she had some final experimental treatments that about wiped out the fund. That’s why you had to work through college.” He clenched his jaw. “I hated touching that money, but we’d have lost the house otherwise. I’d have lost it to keep her with us, mind, but nothing worked.”

  She closed her eyes at the memories. As a kid, Sascha hadn’t worried about the finances of being sick. Had just been terrified about how ill her mom was. She couldn’t begin to comprehend how hard it must have been for her father. Dealing with the terror of losing his wife, as well as worrying about the money, then Sascha too.

  She’d been hard on him, she realized. Way too hard as only a grieving kid could be.

  “I’m sorry,” she said softly.

  “What for?” he asked, sounding befuddled.

  “I was hard on you. After she died, I mean.”

  “No. You weren’t. You were mourning your mom, sweetheart. It was your right to hate the world.” He let out a deep breath, admitting, “I just made you hate it harder by bringing Linda into the picture.”

  “Why did you?” she asked in a small voice.

  “Why do we do anything?” he replied, his tone even but she could hear the self-deprecation buried within. “I was frightened and alone. I had you to take care of, and though it had never mattered to me before, that was because I had your mom. You were looking to me to know shit about periods and the birds and the bees. I was fucking useless.

  “I always thought we were close, but when Natasha passed away, I realized we weren’t. I wanted you to have that again, and I was stupid and ignorant by even thinking another woman could fill your mom’s shoes. Jesus, it went beyond stupidity. I was filling your mom’s side of the bed too… Took me fucking ages to get used to her touching me.”

  When he clenched his jaw, she said, her tone lighter, “I really don’t need to hear about you with the stepmom.”

  He let out a jittery breath. “No. I guess not. TMI, huh?” He tensed at her side. “I just… I wanted to help and made things a thousand times worse.”

  “Why did you guys split up?” she asked, curious for the first time. Her dad wasn’t often in a sharing mood, so she decided to take advantage of the unusual frame of mind.

  “Linda was good to me, Sascha. You know that. I tried to give her everything she needed, but…” He shrugged. “I’m surprised she lasted as long as she did. I’m as in love with your mother as I was the first time I saw her.

  “A woman can only flog a dead horse for so long before she figures out the horse has gone. And I was gone before I even met Linda.”

  Sadness filled her, making her throat close. “Oh, Dad. I’m so sorry.”

  “Don’t be, sweetheart. At least I had her for a while. It wasn’t long enough, but some people never really know what love is. I do.” He jerked his shoulder. “Doesn’t stop me from getting lonely. I guess it’s just something I’ll have to deal with. I’m not going to put another woman through what Linda had to deal with.”

  Sascha bit her lip. Having always disliked her stepmom, having seen her as trying to fill her mom’s shoes—exactly what her dad had wanted and Sascha hadn’t—it was difficult to empathize.

  But Linda had had a shitty time of it, she saw.

  How would she cope with the idea of her men loving Janna still? Of her being a replacement, and a lacking one at that?

  Heart sore at the notion, she clung to her father. “You don’t have to stay in Tucson, Dad.”

  He let out a laugh. “‘Course I do. It’s my home, baby.” Henry pressed a kiss to her temple.

  She shook her head. “No. Your home is with your family. Now that grandma’s passed, you’re alone there.”

  “Where would I go?”

  “Here?” Sascha shrugged. “I’m a billionaire, didn’t you know? I think I can afford to keep my father in the style he’s become accustomed to.”

  Her words had a bark of laughter escaping him. “Think you can keep me in pork rinds and IPA, huh?”

  Her lips twitched. “I figure as much.”

  Silence fell between them, and though she’d almost expected him to shrug off the offer, he surprised her a few moments later by murmuring, “I’ll think about it.”

  Thirty-Eight

  Devon sat back in the armchair that was his alone. Well, he’d share it with Sascha, but nobody else was allowed to touch it. It was cushioned and cozy, held his ass just right, and cosseted his spine in a way that made him feel like he was in bed.

  Sometimes, after Sean had gone to his bedroom, Devon would sneak down here to Sean’s study and sleep in the chair. Not that he had to sneak. Sean’s office was open season, after all. Even when he was working on a case, his blackboard out, with case files pinned to it as he tried to figure out the solution to some psychopath’s riddle, he had an open door.

  “What’s wrong?” Sean asked, not looking up from his computer when Devon had settled in his rightful place.

  “Why does anything have to be wrong?” Devon asked with a scowl.

  “Because you’re not working and it’s still only the afternoon?”

  Devon rubbed at his chest. There was an ache there, and he wasn’t sure why it wouldn’t go away.

  He’d already looked in his medical encyclopedia on ‘how a heart attack starts,’ and though he had one of the symptoms, the rest were absent. Not that that gave him much relief.

  “Do you think she’ll leave us now that she’s rich?”

  The question popped out of his mouth, and Kurt, who was sitting in his usual spot, came out of his writing daze to demand, “Why would you even think that?”

  “Kurt,” Sean said gruffly. “Don’t be hard on him.” To Devon, he murmured, “Tell me your reasoning.”

  He gnawed at his lip, and worked through the thoughts that had been flooding him these past few days. Since the tango class, Sascha had undoubtedly perked up. She was happier all around. He’d even heard her singing an old Sinatra song down in the kitchen. But… money changed people.

  “Janna wanted our money.”

  “Sascha never has,” Kurt countered.

  “No, but we didn’t think Janna did either, did we? Yet she did.”

  “Sascha’s not avaricious.”

  “I know that,” Devon snapped, aggravated at Kurt’s short-sightedness. “But… what’s the advantage of being with us if it isn’t the money?”

  Sean tilted his head to the side. “Have you spoken about this with Sawyer?”

  “No.”

  “Why not?”

  Devon shrugged. “He’s busy.”

  “When aren’t you both?” Kurt argued.

  “True, but I didn’t want to talk to him about this. He’d just get angry. I don’t want to be yelled at by a pissed-off Scot. Sascha will hear, and she’ll get mad at him for shouting at me.” He rubbed his chin. “It’s easier just to ask you.”

  A glint appeared in Sean’s eye. “Why do you think she’d shout at him for yelling at you?”

  He thought about it. “She does that. When Andrei’s being sarcastic, she does too.”

  “She’s protective of you,” Kurt murmured.

  “I suppose so, yes,” Devon said, having thought about it some more, and agreeing that was the case.

  “Was Janna protective of you?” Sean asked quietly.

  “No,” he said after a moment’s thought. “But Janna was a bitch. The only person she protected was herself.”

  “Yes, that’s true. Sh
e was number one in her mind. Do you think Sascha feels that way?”

  “No, but we’re a lot of work. We’re good in bed but she has to put up with our moods and tempers. We work all the time, barely leave the house unless it’s for business.” He shrugged. “She’s young. We’re not. If it isn’t because we can care for her, and do so well, why stay with us?”

  Kurt sighed and pressed the tray with his computer to the floor. “You do know there are several ways to care for someone, don’t you, Devon?”

  He blinked. “There are?”

  “There are,” Kurt confirmed.

  “But, she looks after us. Not the other way around.”

  Sean murmured, “Why did we pressure her to go to the doctor’s, Devon?”

  He frowned. “Because she wasn’t going to go without being pushed.”

  “Why did we do that?”

  “Because we wanted to make sure she was healthy.”

  “Exactly. That’s an example of us taking care of her. This shitstorm with her family… would you say it’s rattled her?”

  “Without a doubt. It’s taken two weeks for her to start wearing lipstick again.”

  “And what have we done to put her at ease?”

  Devon pursed his lips. “I spoke with that judge who knew my dad and had them put an injunction out on anyone who printed her name, then you leapfrogged off that and started proceedings against the first paper who released her image.”

  Sean nodded. “Yeah. What else?”

  “Sawyer told those reporters that were sniffing around he’d shove a calculator up their ass if they didn’t forget our address.” Not that it had worked. Only the injunction had stopped the reporters from swarming around—their having learned of their address thanks to being ratted out by some bastard from the hospital Sascha had been treated at after the accident.

  “What else?”

  “Andrei’s handling Jacobie so she doesn’t have to.”

  Sean’s brows rose. “Have we told her any of that?”

  “No.”

  “Why not?”

  “Because she doesn’t need to know. Plus, I don’t think she wants to.” He scratched his temple. “I suppose we are caring for her. Should we tell her? If she knows we care maybe she won’t leave.”