by Zoe Blake
“Stop. Just stop. Please, baby.”
I held her tighter.
Soul-crushing pain settled inside my chest that she felt she should somehow have known better. How would an innocent woman like her know to even suspect evil lurking behind a door? The only thing she should have known better was to run and keep running from a man like me. I had brought pain and terror into her life.
This was supposed to have been one of my annoying yet simpler business trips. After all, I wasn’t meeting with a warring general contemplating a coup or a ruthless dictator who needed more arms. I was meeting with a goddamn port master. A fucking government flunky.
If she wasn’t safe by my side for something this benign, then she would never be safe standing next to me. This trip was a wake-up call.
No matter how much it hurt.
I had to let her go.
Chapter 27
These violent delights have violent ends and in their triumph die, like fire and powder, which, as they kiss, consume. - William Shakespeare, Romeo and Juliet
Dimitri
Once on the plane, I carried Emma to the bedroom. She felt so small and fragile in my arms, like a bird with a broken wing. Carefully placing her on the bed, I snatched at the bedcover, draping it over her shoulders. Wrapping her tight, I stroked her cheek.
“I’m going to start the shower. I’ll be right back.”
Her gaze looked haunted as she just nodded.
Leaving her for a moment, I started the shower and laid out a few towels before returning to her side. She hadn’t moved.
Pulling the blanket off her shoulders, I stood her up in my arms. Holding her close, I bunched the fabric of her dress in my hands. Stepping back, I pulled it over her head. Stripping off my own clothes, I stepped close and unhooked her bra. As I pushed one strap off her shoulder, my jaw clenched when I saw the faint bruises on her upper arm from where Khalid had had his claws into her. Taking off her panties, I lifted her into my arms. Carrying her into the bathroom, I stepped into the shower.
Her lips opened on a soft moan as the scorching water hit her chilled skin. I lathered the soap in my hands, then ran my palms down her arms and hips. With each caress, she showed more signs of life. Her skin warmed to my touch. The deathly pallor of her cheeks faded. She leaned her head against my chest, her arms wrapped around my waist. I ran my hands up and down her back, humming an old Russian love song to try to soothe her.
Turning her in my arms, I filled my palms with shampoo and carefully washed her beautiful thick hair. She leaned back into my embrace, her small hands reaching behind to caress my thighs. There was nothing I wanted more than to lift her high against the slick tiled wall and bury my cock deep inside of her. To show her with actions what my words could never convey, but I kept my desire in check. What she needed now was gentleness at my hands, not a brutish coupling.
Stepping out and drying us off, I wrapped her thick hair in a towel before carrying her back into the bedroom. Pulling the covers aside, I slipped her between the cool sheets and climbed in beside her. Placing my arm around her waist, I kept her close. Closing my eyes, I listened to her quiet breathing as I tried to chase away the image of her terrorized face.
Finally she spoke.
“I knew you’d come,” she whispered so low I didn’t think I’d heard her correctly.
My hand flexed over her waist and I pulled her tighter to me. “What did you say?”
She turned in my arms. “I knew you’d come for me.”
I pushed her damp curls away from her face. “Emma, I never for a moment thought I was putting you in any danger. I would never…”
“Dimitri, you don’t think I blame you for what happened?”
“Don’t you? Emma… I’m not a good man. If it weren’t for me, none of this would have happened.”
She lowered her face. Her hand spanned the center of my chest. “Don’t say such a thing. It’s not true.”
I grasped her hand and squeezed. “Baby, we can’t keep pretending.”
“What are you saying?”
I swallowed. “I was wrong to pursue you. You were right before. You don’t belong in my world. You should be with someone who is good and decent and would never put you in danger.”
Her fingertip traced the outline of my dagger tattoo, lighting on each drop of blood. She had read her little book on Russian tattoos from the library. She knew what those drops of blood represented. What I represented. I was a criminal who oversaw a corrupt kingdom of guns and blood money. I had killed for my place on the throne and probably would again.
Her big brown eyes filled with tears. “Dimitri, please don’t do this. I was wrong to say that. I want to be with you.”
I cupped her jaw and swiped at her tears with my thumbs. “I want you to listen very carefully, моя крошка. I love you. I’ll always love you. I’ve never met a woman so sweet and pure and beautiful inside and out as you. Please forgive me.”
She wrapped her hands around my wrists, clinging to me. “There is nothing to forgive, Dimitri.”
“Yes, there is. It was cruel of me to bring my… darkness… into your world. You deserve better.”
“I don’t want better. I want you! I love you.”
I shook my head. “You only think you love me. I forced you into this… all of this. I never gave you a choice.”
“Are you saying I don’t know my own mind?”
“I’m saying an innocent doe in the forest doesn’t stand a chance when the hunter arrives.”
“Dimitri, don’t do this.”
Unable to retrain myself any further, I claimed her mouth. Allowing myself one last taste of her sweetness. Shifting, I pulled her under me, spreading her legs and slipping in between her thighs. Leaning up on my forearms, I leaned down to kiss her cheek, the corner of her mouth, her slim neck. Trailing my lips over her collarbone to the gentle curve of her breast, pulling one pebbled nipple into my mouth. Her body arched as her fingernails trailed down my back.
Placing the head of my cock at her entrance, I closed my eyes and thrust deep into her wet heat. Knowing it would be the last time this devil tasted heaven.
Mary opened the door as I approached, alerted to our arrival by the guards I had posted at her door outside the apartment.
Her hands flew to her face. “Oh, my God!”
I carried Emma over the threshold and through the living room, kicking her bedroom door open. Placing her on the bed, I stood aside as Mary rushed in. Emma leaned up, and the friends hugged.
“Are you okay? I was so worried. My God, you could have been killed.”
Mary tossed a censoring glare over her shoulder at me. I deserved it and more.
“I’m fine. It sounds more dramatic than it was really,” said Emma as her eyes fluttered to mine then looked away.
She was lying. Trying to appear brave and unaffected by the events of the last twelve hours, hoping I would change my mind.
I wouldn’t.
I loved her.
Which was why I had to leave her.
“Mary, can I have a moment alone with Emma?”
Mary refused to look at me. She searched Emma’s face before answering.
Emma gave her a tremulous smile. “It’s fine.”
She patted Emma’s arm. “I’ll fix you some whiskey tea.”
Standing up, she headed to the door, throwing one more glare in my direction before turning and leaving. I pointedly closed the door, not wishing to be overheard.
Sitting next to Emma on the bed, I played with a soft curl. Running my fingers down its long silky length, I said, “Promise me you will stay in this bed for the rest of the day and let Mary pamper and fawn over you.”
Her eyes teared up. Her lower lip trembled. She only nodded.
I cleared my throat, feeling a lump form there. “I should probably confess that it is not an accounting error. I paid off your tuition.”
“Dimitri…”
“First thing Monday morning, I’m going to
have papers delivered here. I’ll be setting up a bank account in your name. I don’t want you to have to work any more side jobs. Focus on getting your degree.”
“Dimitri, please.”
I kept talking, worried if I stopped to listen to her pleas I might change my mind. “When the time comes, and you decide on what job to take… whether that is in Chicago or elsewhere, I’ll arrange to buy you a nice house in a safe neighborhood. Hopefully you’ll bring Mary with you.”
“I don’t want a house or your money… I want you. I love you.”
I stroked her cheek. Leaning in, I didn’t trust myself to kiss her lips, so I placed a chaste kiss on her forehead.
“Goodbye, моя крошка. My sweet baby girl.”
She clung to my arm as I tried to rise. I pried her fingers loose and rose.
With a sob, Emma collapsed onto her pillows.
I opened the door and stepped out, encountering Mary carrying a cup of tea.
She looked past me into the bedroom where we could both hear Emma’s wrenching cries.
“Take care of her.”
Not waiting for her response, I stormed out of the apartment, my mood as dark as my life had now become.
Chapter 28
She loves him with an enraged affection, it is past the infinite of thought. - William Shakespeare, Much Ado About Nothing
Emma
“You need to eat something.”
I rolled away from Mary, hugging my ‘I love Mr. Darcy’ pillow to my chest. “I’m not hungry.”
She sighed as she sat on the edge of my bed. “It’s been a week. I’ve covered for you with your professors and Old Sour Berry, but eventually you have to return to the land of the living.”
She was right, of course, but I didn’t care. I couldn’t seem to care about anything right now. All I wanted to do was stay here, curled up on my bed, and cry.
Dimitri was gone.
I kept hoping he would change his mind and come storming through my door at any moment. He would pick me up in his arms and roughly announce he was taking me home in that controlling way I both loved and hated.
I missed him so much it physically hurt. I shivered as I pulled the afghan over my shoulders. I felt cold all the time now. I didn’t think I’d ever feel warm again. My body ached. I desperately wanted to feel Dimitri’s warmth and strength, wanted to feel his arms wrapped securely around me as I pressed my ear to his chest to listen to his beating heart.
I missed the smell of his cologne. The deep growl of his voice, especially how when he got mad or excited his accent would become thicker and more guttural and so freaking sexy. A few times over the last few days, I’d have sworn I could still feel his firm hand on my lower back.
I missed lying in bed with him. Listening to him talk as I lay cuddled under his arm, absently tracing his various tattoos. Just the thought of that silly little bear tattoo of his would cause me to burst into tears. How he was this big scary Russian who loved JellyBellys of all things.
I lived more in the short time I knew him than in my entire life.
He had shared so many new experiences with me… and I wasn’t just thinking about the mind-blowing sex. Every day with him had been an adventure.
Champagne, caviar, helicopter rides, private movie showings, Morocco.
My stomach twisted. I refused to taint that amazing experience by only remembering the bad. Yes, there were a few hours of terror but not once, not for a single second, had I thought Dimitri wouldn’t save me. I’d known deep in my bones he would rescue me. Our time in Morocco was also filled with romantic, thoughtful moments I would cherish and hold close for always.
I knew he wasn’t perfect, but he was perfect for me.
I loved him and I couldn’t imagine ever loving anyone else.
Reaching past her, I hit repeat on my phone. Matchbox Twenty’s ‘If You’re Gone’ played again.
Mary shifted closer, picking up the copy of Anna Karenina I was reading and setting it on the nightstand.
“Look, I know it doesn’t feel like it now, but you’ll get over him.”
My eyes teared up. “No, I won’t.”
She stroked my back. “Everyone feels that way about the first guy they’ve loved, but eventually you move on.”
I rolled back to face her. Sitting up, I pulled the pillow onto my lap. Tracing the heart with my fingertips, my lower lip trembled. “I don’t want to move on. I know you think it’s crazy and will probably say I just met the guy and barely know him but….”
“Actually, I think I’d focus more on the whole he’s-a-dangerous-Russian-mobster angle more than the you-two-crazy-kids-just-met trope,” quipped Mary as she opened a bag of Doritos and placed it by my side before reaching in and grabbing a chip.
Absentmindedly, I grabbed one too. “So he has his faults. No guy is perfect,” I said, crunching down on a chip.
She handed me a pint glass of iced tea before responding. I sipped as I listened, then grabbed for another chip.
“Emma. The man is a fucking mobster! A criminal. I’d say that is a pretty big fault.”
“It’s not like he’s out there robbing banks or shooting up restaurants! Besides, from what I’ve seen, he’s mostly a businessman. If you think about it, half of corporate America are criminals in one way or another,” I said, grabbing a handful of Doritos in my agitation, snapping my teeth down into a curled-up one, which gave a satisfyingly loud crunch. Refusing to meet Mary’s gaze, I brushed at the cheese dust on my blanket.
“Emma, if you are going to accept the man for what he is, then you can’t justify it or paint it a color it isn’t. You have to look at this in black and white terms.”
She was right.
I loved Dimitri for who he was, not what he did to make money. It felt like a lifetime ago that I had wondered if I would be able to separate the two and I now knew I could. I didn’t care what he did.
I loved him… the rest I would just accept as the price I had to pay to be with him.
As far as I was concerned, it was a cheap price to pay to be with a man as intelligent, charming, and exciting as Dimitri.
“Does it make me a bad person if I say I don’t care if he’s a criminal?”
Mary tightened the knot on her red kerchief, which had slipped, exposing her glossy black hair. “A few days ago, I would have said yes. That you couldn’t possibly consider being with a man like that… now I don’t know.”
“This wouldn’t have anything to do with Dimitri’s friend, Vaska?”
From what I had learned, they had been thrown together quite a bit since the night at the restaurant.
Her cheeks flushed. “That man is the most insufferable, brutish, stubborn, obstinate, mule-headed person I’ve ever met,” she huffed.
“You do realize all those words are technically synonyms?”
“Fuck this iced tea. I’m getting the tequila.”
Mary left and returned with a bottle of cheap Cuervo and two shot glasses. This time they were our Rhett Butler ones that said I Don’t Give a Damn in black scroll. She poured us both a shot. Holding hers high, she said, “To bad choices!”
We drank.
Mary looked down at her glass. “What if he gets you killed?”
I grabbed the bottle of tequila and poured us both another shot. “That’s not a fair question. I could get hit by a bus tomorrow. Life is random.”
“It most certainly is a fair question! You were kidnapped by a lunatic who held a gun to your head because of him.”
“It wasn’t his fault.”
“He may not be directly responsible but you have to face facts. If you were there with a boring accountant, the likelihood of something like that happening dramatically decreases.”
We both drank, not bothering to toast.
I thought about what she’d said for a minute, then finally put it in terms she could understand. “Why did Buffy love Angel… or fuck Spike?”
She poured us a third shot. “I get it. He’s your Ang
el and Spike all rolled into one.” She raised her arm high. “To bad boys!”
“To bad boys!” I repeated before swallowing it down.
Mary rubbed her hands together. “Well, okay. You love him and damn the consequences… so what are you going to do about it?”
I threw my arms into the air. “Hello! He broke up with me!”
“So what? You think Elizabeth or Beatrice or Catherine or Jane or Bathsheba would take that lying down? You think they’d be curled up in bed in their pajamas feeling sorry for themselves? Ask yourself, WWBD?” rallied Mary, rattling off some of my favorite heroines. What Would Buffy Do?
I sat up straighter. “No! No, they wouldn’t!”
“You’re damn straight they wouldn’t!”
I felt this charge of energy and purpose.
I was going to get Dimitri back.
I would make him understand that I loved him beyond all reason and I didn’t care about who he was or what he did or the danger. He was worth it.
If he refused to listen to me… well, I would just have to make him.
And I knew just how to do it…
“Mary, I have an idea, but I’m going to need your help.”
“Hell, yeah! Let’s go get that criminal demon vampire bad boy of yours!”
Chapter 29
Be with me always—take any form—drive me mad! I can not live without my life! I can not live without my soul! - Emily Brontë, Wuthering Heights
Dimitri
“Get the fuck out!”
“Is that any way to speak to your oldest friend?”
“I’m warning you, Vaska. I’m in no mood.”
“Clearly.”
He sat in the upholstered chair next to mine, in my library. I had lost count how many times I’d imagined Emma sitting in the chair Vaska was in. Her cute feet curled up beneath her as she read a book while I worked nearby.
It was a cozy domestic scene that before Emma I had never really allowed myself to imagine.