“Yes, my therapist recommended it,” I told him, “and I’ve been doing it since I was twelve.” I pressed my face into his chest, inhaling deeply. “It didn’t make sense when she recommended it, but at that time it was worth the try. I was hooked within the first week.”
“In what sense did it help?”
I shrugged my shoulder. “I think it helped all around. With my restlessness, my sleeping habits and nightmares.” I laughed a bit awkwardly, then added. “Brian would tell you it helped my moods too during my teenage years.”
His fingers played with my hair, and I caught myself pushing into his hand like a cat hungry for her owner’s touch.
Get ahold of yourself, Anastasia.
“You mentioned him before. Who is Brian?” His question was casual, but his body was tense.
“He has been my security protection for the past ten years.”
“The one you danced with in the club?”
I lifted my head off his chest to see his eyes. That’s right, he and Nikolai got footage of our nightclub outing. “Yes, he is a great guy.”
Wrong thing to say since he stiffened even more. I pressed my palm against Dimitry’s chest, his scar under my fingertips reminding me of his rough background. How could I explain to Dimitry, he was the only one that mattered to me. He was the one that made sparks fly for me.
“You know, he saw me through my rebellious stages, my teenage years, my unflattering, spoiled fits, he sat at the table with me and my date to ensure the poor boy wouldn’t get too close… Anyhow, what I am trying to say is that he never made sparks fly for me and I never thought of him as anything but my security who was closer to my age and not a total bore like my previous one.”
“But he wants you. The woman you have become appeals to him.” It wasn’t a question, but a statement.
I tilted my head, observing him. If I had any doubt before that Dimitry was an overwhelming and possessive lover, there was none now.
“And you saw all that through the footage?” He remained quiet, his steel grey eyes intense on me. “Yes, I think he likes me. But I think it was more like a sister. I drove him nuts way too many times for him to forget those years.”
He didn’t seem like he believed me so I continued, “Besides, it doesn’t matter because I want you.”
He took my chin between his thumb and index finger, pulling me closer to his own lips. His kiss was possessive, consuming, and dark. And I loved it. I had no reservations when it came to Dimitry.
When he pulled back, I was left gasping for air, my breathing heavy. Something that not even jogging all those miles was capable of doing.
He rested his forehead against mine, and I wondered what was going through his mind. I knew he struggled with his past and things he had done. I wished I could take it all away from him. I didn’t see it as black and white. He was defending himself against the bad people. If he didn’t, they would have destroyed him and he wouldn’t have been the one to save me. There were silver linings in everyone’s life and he was mine.
“How about I jump into the shower and then fix our breakfast?” I suggested.
“I’ll get breakfast ready,” he kissed the tip of my nose and that little affectionate move had my chest fluttering. “You take a shower.”
“Yes, sir.” I pressed one more kiss against his lips and ran into the house and up the stairs.
Twenty minutes later, I was showered and dressed in a long sleeve green dress that stopped just above the knee. Descending the staircase, the smell of food made my stomach growl and the sound of a woman crying made me wonder what was going on.
As soon as I stepped into the kitchen, three pairs of eyes lifted. Dimitry looked almost exasperated. I guess he doesn’t like women’s tears.
“Hey, what’s going on?” Misha was there too holding the woman.
“Nothing.” Dimitry’s answer was clipped.
I scoffed at such a short answer. “Well, something clearly is happening if the woman is crying.”
Misha shared a glance with Dimitry, I assumed waiting for his permission to share whatever was going on. Seconds ticked and finally Dimitry jerked his head in agreement although I could see he wasn’t happy about it.
“This is Natasha,” Misha introduced the young woman. She raised her head from Misha’s chest and our eyes met. She looked young, at least a few years younger than me. I smiled at her, although she seemed quite upset. “We are getting married tomorrow.”
That was not what I expected. She should be ecstatically happy, not crying.
“Congratulations. That’s wonderful.” Everybody seemed like I just congratulated them on a doomsday not marriage. Worried I might have missed a sign, I added hesitantly, “Isn’t it?”