Page 64 of Scream (Duchess & Devils #1)

Parker.

It’s been a long fucking day.

By the time we walk over to the mansion, instead of driving all the way across the Brooklyn Bridge back into Manhattan, it’s a little after two in the morning.

Coming back to the mansion feels like coming home after a long trip.

Maksim is carrying Sabrina on his back and looks like he just lost a million-dollar bet as we walk up the steps to the front door.

I put my key into the lock and open the front door, welcoming the smell of the mansion to settle my bones. It feels good to be back. It feels good to hang up my keys on Sabrina’s key hook by the front door.

Years of making this house a home – her reprieve, ruined by marriage.

Where it should have been a sanctuary, a place that held hopes and dreams, it now felt soulless.

All it was missing to come alive again was her – baking in the kitchen, reading in weird positions on the couches in the living areas, watching god-awful chick-flicks in the theater, dropping weights in the gym, hosting work dinners in the den…

and the rooms on the second floor had once held promising futures for her kids.

Why did that feel so far away now?

She’s silent as she closes the door behind her, and I catch her gaze, sadness filtering through.

“What’s wrong, baby girl?”

Maksim turns to face her, frowning when he sees the tears well up.

She hugs her torso and shakes her head, honey blonde waves following. “It feels so good to be home,” she huffs out a laugh and Maksim’s frown deepens, dark brows coming together.

Maksim steps forward, and using his forefinger and his thumb, he tilts Sabrina's head up by the chin to look up at him.

With her heels off, she looks so small. I wait for the flinch, for some kind of reaction to his nearness, but it never comes.

Her shoulders are still tense, but that's from whatever emotions she's been dealing with all day. Not from our nearness.

We haven’t started her defensive training yet.

We haven't stepped foot in the penthouse gym since I fucked her in front of the mirror, finding so many other different flat surfaces around the apartment to bend her over, but I'm waiting on her to ask me. I should probably get better at pushing her boundaries, but for now, I’m happy waiting for her to take the lead.

My talks with Damon lately always end with him telling me "She's doing great," with a pat on the shoulder.

I believe him, because I'm seeing life coming back into her eyes.

It's in her walk. In the way she easily opens the front door now, with a shake of her head, ready to take on the elevator – instead of putting her hand on the knob, hesitating, and then hyping herself up. Her confidence in asking for what she wants, sexually. Including asking me if she could suck my dick while we were in the shower just this morning. As if I’d say no to feeling her lips wrapped around me.

While almost twenty-four hours ago, it still feels like she made that a dream come true.

The way her tongue felt so good wiggling under my frenulum, over the barbells.

The way her cheeks hollowed out on the draw, green eyes with slates of grey and blue.

Fuck, the way she worked my balls with one hand, the other jerking me in steady strokes until I grabbed her by the temples and fucked her throat, coming so deep, so hard I almost slipped. Utter fucking perfection.

"Does it really mean that much to you, Duchess?" Maksim asks, and Sabrina finally unwraps her arms and puts them on his forearms, blinking up at him.

"A part of me thought I'd raise my children here.

.. have a gorgeous terrier or two running around as well.

Maybe a fluffy, white cat. I'd have the kids' birthday parties in the backyard or on the rooftop.

I'd bake their cakes and..." she shakes her head.

"It seems silly now. No. I guess it doesn't mean very much to me anymore.

I should... I should..." she sniffs, big fucking tears streaming down her face, and I can't fucking take it. " List it."

The tops of Maksim's ears turn red, obviously affected by Sabrina's tears of sadness, not frustration. He's not used to these. He tugs her to his chest.

"I'm sorry. I don't know why I’m so emotional. This house was my haven for so long, and I didn't get to say a proper goodbye,” she sniffs again.

"Sabrina, we're keeping the mansion,” Maksim soothes.

This makes her cry harder, and I'm starting to panic. What the fuck is going on?

She pulls away from him, tears still spilling, and she hiccups.

"No, it's okay. You don't like it. I don't have to see my best friend every day.

Rory doesn't have to come here during holiday.

I don't" hiccup "need to have a safe neighborhood to run around, instead of Central Park. Or see my best friend whenever I want, even though we were kept apart for years.” hiccup “And.

.. There's so much pink here. And you hate it.”

Maksim looks at me for help as she crashes her face into his chest and letting out a small string of incoherent words – her lips pressed into his chest – but he still holds her.

"Sabrina, baby," I go to her and rub her back, and she reaches for me by the suit jacket I still haven't taken off as she leaves his chest for mine.

I rub slow circles over her shoulder and down her back, letting her soak my shirt.

"Baby, we're keeping the mansion. I... I like the pink," Maksim gives me a pointed look that screams ‘ kiss ass.’ It's not a lie, per se.

Yeah it's girly, and it's frilly, and I'd never let my war buddies I still talk to come hang out, so they don't break any of the glass figurines, but it's her happy place. She has a cozy vibe here, made it her own, and it smells like her. Everywhere I look, it's her.Because of that simple fact, I love it here. I wouldn’t change a goddamn thing except maybe ad black-out curtains, but that’s more for me.

So I can fuck her on every available flat surface without Mrs. Silverstein across the street seeing something that might make her have a stroke.

She looks up at me, those green eyes rimmed red, a bit of snot on her nose, and I hold back my grin. "You do not."

"Well, I don't hate it, Babygirl. C'mon. You're tired. You haven't eaten since lunch. We've all had a long day. Let's get you out of your heels and into bed. Yeah? We can work something out in the morning. A week at the penthouse, a week here." I look at the tall guy staring at us. "Yeah?"

Maks sighs in resignation and nods. "Yeah, we can do that."

I give her a quick, tight hug and plant a kiss on her forehead, before bending to scoop her up bridal-style and handing her off to Maks. "Take her up to the third floor, get her in her PJs. Let me find something for her to eat."

“Maksi, you can’t carry me up three flights.”

He growls. “Watch me, wife.”

“Ah, well, if you insist…” She trails off, leaning her head on his shoulder, fingertips walking up his chest until they land on his other sh oulder. He side-eyes me, and I know we’re both thinking the same thing – we’ve spoiled her rotten.

I fucking love that.

We part ways, and I find the fridge fully stocked.

I'm gonna have to shoot a text out to Veronica, the house lady, and thank her for still coming in and taking care of things while we're gone.

I make a couple of sandwiches, ham and cheese for me and Maks, then cheese and pickle for her - an English delicacy - her words, not mine.

Except when I reach the third floor, she's in the middle of the bed, sound asleep, curled into Maks like a kitten, and fuck, she's beautiful.

I'll never tire of voicing the way she makes it seem like my heart is beating and walking outside of my chest, but it does so because it's her.

I give Maks a once over, noting the tiredness of his expression.

I hand him his sandwich and climb into bed beside her, unable to stop thinking about how many times I was just down the hall, sitting on the top step, waiting for her nightmares to start so I could come in and soothe her.

"Thanks," Maks grumbles, wiping his mouth with the napkin that I wrapped his sandwich in. "That was actually pretty good."

I grin, chewing a little faster to swallow my bite down. "Five siblings. Had to learn how to make something fast." I shake the last bit of my sandwich at him. “These were the easiest.”

He grunts at me, but I don't mind it. I know he's as fucking tired as I am. "Sabrina said something about Rory. That's your baby sister, right?"

Looks like he did have his cyberpunk do research on me. "Yeah. She was supposed to spend the summer with us, but... well, you had us move into the penthouse, and Rory didn't want to impose. Haven't seen her since before the wedding."

"She was there?"

I shake my head. "Her and Sabrina are pretty good friends," I reply, not wanting to recall the look on my baby sister’s face when I told her it wasn’t me getting married to Sabrina.

I don’t want to recall the look of devastation on her face when I told her we wouldn’t be living in the mansion anymore.

I especially don’t want to remember the way my sister looked defeated when I handed her plane tickets instead of an invitation.

I broke her heart in so many different ways.

I’m close with all of my siblings, but Rory is the one who taught me to be patient.

The type of patience that helps you stay still when the world around you is pure anarchy.

It saved my life just the same as it almost killed me.

"I'm... sorry about that. "

I shake my head. "We sent her on a trip around Europe instead. She sends me pictures every day. She's in France now. She'll be back on campus by the end of July."

He grunts again, but it's more like a sleepy hum now that his belly is full. "This... meeting I'm having with PresCorp on Thursday. I... I want you there."