Page 45

Rhodes---Compromise

I hear the front door close, and Lennon leaps from the kitchen island with a chirp. Amelia murmurs affection at him before kicking off her shoes, and padding into my view. She’s wearing a pair of slacks and the deepest green blouse that highlights her curves. Lennon is curled up in her arms, and I want her curled into mine.

“Hey, kochanie ,” I say as I place the slotted spoon on the spoon rest. I’m making borscht for dinner. I’ve been slowly introducing Amelia to Polish food, and my mother’s recipe is fool-proof. I walk toward the pair, scratching Lennon’s head before kissing Amelia deep and slow. Feeling her melt into me, I thread one hand into her hair, pulling it from whatever twist she’s wrapped it in, and my other snakes around her wide hips. I squeeze the flesh there, pulling her into me as Lennon angrily jumps away. Amelia chuckles against my lips, and I see a slight smile dance on her mouth.

“Hey. What’s for dinner?” Her voice is soft and it makes my brow furrow. I take a step back, keeping my touch on her body as she follows me into the kitchen. Leaning against the counter, I watch as Amelia starts to drop the armor she’s worn today from her frame. Those strong shoulders soften, her chest softly rises and falls in a relaxed way. “It smells delicious.”

“Zurek.” She spins, facing me with a look. “It is a classic Polish recipe—one that I think you’ll like. It’s white borscht, one of my go-to comfort meals as a kid.” I see her peer back into the simmering pot, the scent of the creamy and peppery soup wafting up to her.

“What’s in it?”

“Potatoes,” I say with a wink. Amelia rolls her eyes and waves her hand for me to continue. “Good kielbasa, root vegetables, and rye bread. Mama would make it with this super sour rye starter, but I didn’t have that so I snagged a loaf of rye on the way home to use instead.”

I move to the kitchen sink where a bowl of hard-boiled eggs sit, cooling in an ice bath. Plucking one, I start to peel them. Amelia moves to stand beside me, the gentle scent of her lotion wrapping itself around me.

“What are the eggs for?” There is suspicion in her voice, and it isn’t unwarranted. She has discovered that Polish food isn’t always the most straightforward.

“You pour the soup on top of them.” I chuckle as Amelia nods her head, trepidation radiating from her. “It’ll be good, I promise. Now, go sit your fine ass down and have a cup of coffee, yeah?” She’s a creature of habit and her after-work decaffeinated coffee is one of those habits that she will not let go of.

I hear the scraping of her mug against the countertop and it makes me smile. It’s the little things. “How was work, kochanie ?” There is silence for longer than I like, so I turn to face her. Amelia’s face is buried in her arms, her hands wrapped around the mug tightly. I lean across the island, resting my palms on the back of her hands. “Amelia?”

She lifts her face and I can see that she doesn’t want to answer. Unfortunately, I am not backing down. Sometimes, Amelia forgets that she is no longer alone. “Do I have to talk about it?” she whispers.

“No, you don’t. But, I do think you’ll feel better once you do.” It earns me a roll of her eyes, but she takes a deep breath and meets my gaze.

“I am meeting Medina next week.” Those grey eyes are firm in her statement. “Alone.”

Yeah, fuck that.

“No,” I growl. “You will not.”

“He threatened Parker.” I pause, understanding that he hit her right where she is most vulnerable, the fucker. Anyone who has been around the two of them knows that Amelia and Parker are a package deal. They will be loyal to each other until death. Likely beyond that, honestly.

“Amelia.”

“He threatened you.” Amelia’s voice is cold and resolute. I hear the tremor in it, buried deep within her strength.

The world stops spinning on its axis. Medina going after Parker was smart. Him going after me meant suicide. Amelia Conte has denied herself happiness for so long, and the second Medina caught wind of it, he decided to rip it from her. The woman before me is calculating, cunning in the most devastating way. She will not allow him to get to me.

She’ll sacrifice herself first.

“I will not lose you, Ro.” I round the island, yanking Amelia from the stool and crushing her against my broad chest. She nestles into that place between my pecs, the one that feels like it was made just for her. I place a kiss atop her head, my long hair shielding us from the outside world. I will be her fortress, her refuge. My arms will always be a safe harbor for her weary heart.

“I can’t let you go alone, kochanie .”

“I have to.”

“Amelia.”

She pulls back from me, tilting her head back and I brush the hair from her face. “I don’t have a choice. I’ll have my blades, and Duncan will be nearby, but I cannot enter that room with anyone else.”

“I don’t like it. I don’t trust him.”

“You don’t have to like it, Ro. I love you, but I need you to trust me. I am not afraid.”

“I am. I am fucking terrified.”

“I have lived my life with the knowledge that I would not be able to have this .” I feel her hands move to grip my shirt, the cotton wrinkling in her grasp. “I will not allow a weak man like Medina to dictate my happiness.”

I rest my forehead on hers and I want to kiss her badly. Her eyes flutter closed and her hands flex.

“I have to, Rhodes. I can’t keep hiding and playing this gods fucking game of fox and hare. I have to bury Medina. I need you to trust me”

I know that this is an argument I will not win. Amelia has played this role for far too long to relinquish her control of the chessboard now. I sigh heavily, licking my lips before squeezing her tight, tucking her head under my chin. “Okay.”

I feel her shake her head. I know that my agreement is shocking, but I also am formulating a plan to keep the woman in my arms safe—whether she likes it or not. Amelia Conte will handle her business, and I will ensure no one stands in her way.

Pulling away from her, I place my hands under her ass, lifting her onto the counter. She’s weightless in my hold, and Amelia’s arms wrap around my shoulders. I feel her fingers weave along my scalp and she begins massaging my skull. Amelia’s nails are heaven and I could let her do this all day, but zurek is best eaten warm.

I reach around Amelia, grabbing her bowl of soup and ladle a spoonful. Her eyes sparkle with amusement as I bring the spoon to her lips, watching as she takes it into her mouth. The siren in my arms takes care to make sure the utensil is clean as it leaves her lips, that pink tongue darts to the corner of her mouth, chasing a rogue speck of the borscht. The movement is erotic.

Spooning more, I smirk at the way her body does a little happy dance. It’s the same one she has when she eats tiramisu at midnight. “Good, kochanie ?” I ask.

“It’s alright,” she playfully whispers, leaning in and taking another bite. “I’ll allow it.”

“You’ll allow it?” I set the bowl down, my palms skimming her sides. “I’ll be sure to let your legions know that you approve.” Her body reminds me of those paintings of old. The ones the masters brought to life with full hips and large breasts, the women generously curved and voluptuous. Amelia Conte puts them all to shame.

She hums, a smug look settling on her face. “You do that.”

We stare at each other before bursting into laughter, the noise echoing in the otherwise quiet kitchen.

“For real though, this is really good, Rhodes. Your mama would be proud.” The sincerity in her voice nearly brings tears to my eyes. I know that Amelia would have been loved by my mama, and the same could be said the other way around as well. There is a box hidden in my gun safe that my mama told me would be given to the woman I loved one day.

Without a hint of hesitation, Amelia Conte is that woman.

/////////////

“Do you believe in fate?” Her voice is soft as the words fall onto my chest. I comb her hair from her face and look down at her. Amelia is soft right now, as she comes down from the crest of four orgasms I forced upon her body. Sleep weighs heavily in her eyes, and when she glances up at me, I see the seriousness of her question.

I lean my head back, trying to find the words to fully encompass my answer. “The universe is balanced, I think.” Her nails scrape at my skin, the pattern soothing.

“Balanced,” she murmurs, disagreement coating the word.

I continue, struggling to answer what should be a simple question. “I lost my faith in something—someone—bigger than me when I lost Chris. My world crumbled, and when no one could give me a reason why the darkness only deepened? I cannot fathom our existence being reduced to a collection of marionettes, blindly stumbling, while an all-knowing entity maneuvers our strings.”

She shifts, sitting up on her elbow and brings her palm to my face. Her eyes roam, mapping my emotions. “The idea of a singular claiming dominion over this vastness—over this woven tapestry of life, is something I’ve never understood.”

“But,” I say, tracing her skin, “I will never understand how I was gifted you. I must have pleased the gods or the universe somehow.” I bring my nose to hers, my lips ghosting hers. “What about you, kochanie ?” I watch her inhale deeply, the movement shifting the sheet along her body. “Do you hold on to a god?”

She’s quiet, pensive for a moment. “If there were a god, then why would they allow the breaking of my soul? The violation of my supposed temple?” Her head tilts, fire in her eyes. “If there is some benevolent being, then there shouldn’t be so much hurt in my heart.” The fire dies, squelched by the tears now lining her eyes.

I wipe the single tear running down her cheek, wishing I could have loved her sooner. “Fate and gods are two different ideas, baby.”

Her brow furrows. “I don’t think they are.” Amelia shakes her head, moistening her lips. “Not really. People just want the ability to blame their transgressions on another person. They don’t want to own their actions, to face the consequence of choice. I want to tell you that it was fate which brought me to you, I do.”

I lick my lips, wishing for the words to come that I could use to make her feel better. What do I say to a woman who has suffered at the hands of men? Amelia sighs, continuing to fill the silence.

“But, I know that every decision I made up to this point is one that led me to you. Each bloodstained smile I’ve crafted, every scream echoed into the void. I own it all, and despite the darkness claiming my soul, I wouldn’t change any of it.