Page 19

Amelia

“He really goes everywhere you go, huh?” Sarah peeks over my shoulder. I have to twist a little to see who she’s talking about.

This bar is tiny. At least five fire codes are being broken by having so many people in here to listen to Rust Riot.

We need to book one more band for the carnival nights, and Sarah insists this one is the one.

They’re loud, they play hard rock, and I’m pretty sure one of the piercings on the drummer’s cheek is slightly infected. But other than that, she’s right. They’re going to be a big hit.

“Boris?” I laugh. “Yes. Unfortunately, he’s stuck being my shadow.”

“Because he works for the mafia, right?” She leans in to ask her question, even though with all the music and yelling going on around us, no one would hear her.

Someone bumps into her as they pass through the crowd, and she knocks into me.

I manage to keep the domino effect from continuing, and steady us both. “Why would you think that?”

It’s a ridiculous question, and she gives me a look that expresses that exact thought.

Rust Riot ends their set, and the crowd shouts and claps them off the stage.

“So?” she asks with wide eyes.

“I love them. Should we try to get backstage to talk to them now?” I move up to my tiptoes to see where they’ve headed.

“We can try, but they usually take off right away.” She shrugs when I wait for more information. “I might have tried to meet the guitarist once or twice.”

I laugh. “No luck?”

“Not yet.” She pumps her eyebrows up and down.

“I’ll call them in the morning then,” I say as the crowd pushes us both in a wave of movement.

“So.” She nudges me with her arm. “What’s it like being married to the mob?”

I roll my eyes. “You’ve seen too many movies.”

“I know.” She sighs. “But tell me anyway.”

“It’s an arrangement. That’s all. I told you all of this. Dmitri and I aren’t like regular married people.”

“Didn’t you tell me earlier he sat watching trashy TV with you two nights ago?” She tilts her head. “Guys don’t do that for girls they don’t like.”

“We just hadn’t really seen each other in a few days, that’s all.”

“Oh. So, he had been so busy with work.” She pauses to air quote the word. “That he hadn’t seen you, so he uses the little spare time he has to watch reality TV with you. But it’s not because he likes you.”

“You’re making it sound different than it is.”

“You two are sleeping together, right?” I’m suddenly aware I share too much with Sarah during our working lunches.

She’s one of the few people at the center that’s relatively close to me in age, and we’ve often swapped stories about the men coming and going from our lives.

“It’s just not like that,” I argue my point with absolutely no evidence to back up my claim. And by the sly grin she has while she sips her beer, she knows it.

“Okay. I mean you’re full of it, you know, but fine. I’ll let you live in your delusion a little longer.” She shakes her beer bottle. “I’m going to get another, you want another?”

“Uh, yeah, sure.” I finish the last bit of my drink and hand her the empty bottle.

It’s been a long week. Between the usual chaos I deal with on any given day, the carnival planning has taken up even more time.

The company we used last year is booked for the weekend we’ve picked and gotten permits for, so it was a scramble to find another.

When my calendar flashed Friday this morning, it made waking up at six in the morning a little easier. Finding Dmitri still in the shower made it even better.

Just remembering the way he beckoned me into the shower with a crooked finger makes my body crave him. A memory of his tongue on my clit flashes in my mind and my pussy is wet for him again.

Casually, I cross my legs, trying to stamp out the fire building in my panties. The memory alone of the mind-blowing orgasm he gave me before we finally got down to washing ourselves is enough to make me crave him.

It’s a story I won’t be relaying to Sarah, or she’ll never believe that our marriage is more like friends living together. I mean there is such a thing as friends with benefits. But I’m not sure that extends to sending a bodyguard with me everywhere I go or watching shitty TV.

Is it possible that this situation has turned on me when I wasn’t paying attention?

Since I agreed not to go digging into the embezzlement issue, I’ve been more relaxed. He had my back. He took care of it so I wouldn’t lose the center.

His determination to keep me from remembering Lucas as any sort of criminal didn’t just come from some loyalty he had to an ex-business partner. He seemed genuinely concerned that my memory of Lucas be only of the great brother he was.

By the time Sarah gets back with the drinks, I’m more than ready to have mine. These thoughts are getting me all muddled up in my mind. They’re dangerous.

My dad lulled my mom into a sense of love and safety too, and look what happened. She was unloved and uncared for so long that she turned to drugs. If he had shown her any compassion, any sort of caring, maybe she wouldn’t have overdosed.

“Whoa, you okay?” She laughs after I chug half the bottle.

“Yeah. Just thirsty.” I nod, covering my mouth as a burp threatens.

“Lia, you’re vibrating.” She pokes my pocket where my phone is nestled.

“I am!” I take a few more sips, then dig it out. “Oh, it’s Christian.”

“Hmm.” She raises her brows while drinking. “I think he has a thing for you; he’s been calling the center trying to get a hold of you for a few days.”

“Has he?”

“He never leaves a message, just checks to see if you’re there and if you have a second.”

“Oh. That’s weird.” I swipe my screen to life.

Hey, Lia. Just checking in to see how you’re doing. Look, I have a great opportunity that I think you’d be really interested in. Could mean a good amount of money for the foundation.

I read it a second time because it doesn’t sound like Christian. It sounds like a sales pitch, and that’s not the guy I know.

What is it?

I have no clue when it comes to investments.

When I dove into running the center and the foundation, I spent all my time focusing on the daily stuff. I learned who needed to be credentialed with what organization to be able to perform certain services at the center.

My focus was on how to get help to people. Lucas handled the money stuff.

But maybe it’s time I started getting more savvy with it. I can’t expect Dmitri to help me. That wasn’t our deal.

A startup company needs like three hundred thousand investment. You could get double back in two months.

Double return in a few months for a new company?

Can you send stuff over and I’ll look? I need to think about it.

“What’s going on?” Sarah leans over to see my phone. “He okay?”

“He wants me to go into some investment.”

His next text is immediate.

Yeah, but need an answer by tomorrow night, and best to keep that guy out of it. He shouldn’t be involved in your money.

My eyebrows rise with that message and when I look up at Sarah, she has the same look that I feel.

“That’s a huge red flag.” She leans back on her heels.

I shoot another text going along with him and put my phone away. Whatever he’s up to, I’ll deal with it later. I can put it on the bottom of my list.

“Hey, you ladies wanna do a round of shots with us? Two of our buddies took off before we got them, and we have extra.” A dark-haired man taps on Sarah’s shoulder.

I look beyond him to where his friends are watching us from the bar. The bartender is still holding a tray of shots.

“What is it?” I ask.

“Fireball.”

“Oh, those are dangerous,” Sarah laughs.

“Why not. One won’t hurt, right?” I nudge her. “It’s been a long week and next week is going to be worse, let’s have some fun tonight.”

Anything that will erase Dmitri from my mind for a little while. It’s too confusing to keep thinking about him without getting angry at his existence.

“All right.” Sarah nods in agreement. “But just one!” she yells as we follow the guy back to the bar.

Several shots later, I lean against the bar laughing at something Sarah said.

“Wait. What’d you say?” I ask when I can’t remember why I’m laughing so hard.

“I said the big guy’s here.” She taps my shoulder too hard then points behind me. “And he’s bringing the cute one with him.”

I turn a little to find Dmitri parting the sea of drinkers just by his presence and Boris marching behind him. Both have heavy glares.

“Oh.” I swallow. “How… how many shots did we do?”

“I dunno. Two?”

I start laughing again, because I’m sure we passed two a long time ago.

“Why does he look so mad?” Sarah asks.

“Did I miss a call? He gets so angry when I ignore him.” I pull out my cell phone, but drop it before I can swipe the screen open.

When I bend down to pick it up, a pair of black shoes steps right in front of it.

I know these shoes. My mind spins and I stumble forward. Dmitri is on his haunches in a blink, grabbing my shoulders.

“Steady, Amelia.” He grabs my phone and pockets it as he helps me to my feet.

“Hey. That’s mine.” I try to get it back from him, but the shots haven’t blurred my vision enough to not see the flash of dominance in his eyes.

I pat his chest. “Okay, you can have it.”

Sarah laughs. “He already took it.”

“Did you call? I can’t feel the phone in my pocket,” I tell him, hoping to alleviate his irritation.

“No.” He winces when the new band starts playing.

“You don’t like the band?” I turn to face the stage, but my head spins again so I only make it halfway.

“No. I don’t.” He pulls me into his chest. “How much have you had?”

“It’s because you’re old. If you were young like me, you’d like them,” I say.

His eyebrow arches. “When you’re old like me, you’ll know better than to get drunk off… what were you drinking? Fireball?”

He makes another face.

“It tastes like Cinnabun, no, cinnamommm, no… cinnamoon?” Sarah laughs and stumbles a step.

Boris catches her with a deep-set frown.

“You should have stopped after the first one,” he tells her with the same tone Dmitri uses on me when he’s getting all lecture-y.

“It was good. So, we had another. And you don’t tell her what to do.” I point a finger at him.

Boris looks to Dmitri.

“Yeah! You don’t tell her what to do… I mean me. You don’t…” Sarah stops talking and sighs. “You know what I mean.”

Dmitri nods toward Sarah. “Take that one home and I’ll get my wife home.”

He cups my elbow.

“Maybe I don’t wanna go home.” I try to escape his grasp.

“Too bad.”

“But…” I’m suddenly too tired to argue. “Home would be good.”

He smiles a little then urges me forward. “That’s what I thought.”

The late spring air outside feels amazing against my face as we make our way to the car. Dmitri drove his own car to get me.

“Did Boris tell on me?” I ask as we’re pulling into the garage of the penthouse.

I must have fallen asleep when I got into the car.

“He did.” He pops open his door and comes around to get mine.

“He’s a tattletale.” I sigh heavily.

“That’s his job.”

“Oh. Well, then he’s good at it.” I step into the elevator with him and lean against the wall. “I’m tired. And I don’t feel good.”

He stands behind me, pulling me into his arms while the elevator whisks us up to his penthouse. It’s such a smooth ride, not like that car that kept hitting potholes.

The penthouse is quiet when we enter, and the lights are dimmed. Which is good, because my head is spinning and all the lights in the garage made it worse.

Dmitri helps me up to our bedroom and starts to get me undressed.

“I need to tell you something, Dmitri Dragunov.” I jab him in the chest when he’s standing in front of me, sliding my bra down my arms.

“I’m all ears, Mrs. Dragunov.”

“Oh, that sounds nice.” I pause; no, that’s not what I wanted to say. “You can’t do that. You can’t be nice. It makes me think you don’t hate me. So don’t do that.”

“I don’t hate you,” he insists while pulling a nightshirt over my head.

“Oh.” My stomach rolls. “I think I’m gonna be sick.”

I dart away from him to the bathroom, making it just in time.

A moment later, his big hands are there pulling my hair back and fisting it at the back of my neck as another wave of nausea hits.

He says something softly in Russian that I don’t understand, but it still calms me. It’s too easy, how he can settle me just by being with me.

“How are you now?” he asks when I sink back on my heels.

“Better.” I grimace. “I’m sorry.”

“You’ll be sorrier when you wake up, I’m sure.” He smiles and it’s sort of nice.

There’s no malice or agenda behind it. It’s just a nice smile.

“I need to brush my teeth.”

He helps me to my feet and puts me in front of the sink with the toothpaste already on my brush for me.

“You don’t usually drink. What made you start tonight?” he asks, leaning against the counter watching me.

“I don’t know. I was thinking maybe we aren’t just some business arrangements. And then I remembered my dad and how he treated Mom and why don’t you do that? Or when will you do that?”

I rinse my mouth then hand him my brush.

“Then I got the text from Christian about the investment thing and that made me think about Lucas and all the things I still need to do and then that guy offered us a shot… I’m really tired, can we talk about this tomorrow?”

Silently, he scoops me off the floor and I lean my head into his chest.

“What investment?” he asks while tucking me into bed.

The pillows are like clouds, and I’ve never loved them so much as right now.

“He wants three hundred thousand for an investment. But I’ll get my money back. He texted, just look at that.” I wave my hand at him.

“All right. Go to sleep now.” He brushes my hair from my forehead and kisses me softly.

“You know, Dmitri. I think I like you.” I close my eyes and snuggle into the pillows.

“Good.”

“No. That’s bad. But don’t tell Dmitri. He doesn’t like it when I’m bad.” I roll to my side. “Promise.”

“Alright, I promise.”

I give him a thumbs-up and let the darkness sweep me away.