Still smiling, she began wiping my face off, studying me. “You know, sweetie, there are some downfalls of pregnancy. Emotional disturbance is one of them.” She paused, looking thoughtful. “And you’re having triplets. I’m sure that’s going to make it worse for you.” My shoulders slumped as that reasoning made sense. She kept going, though. “But do you want to know a trick I learned after that whole bashing-the-wenches-car-thing?”
I nodded.
“The trick is when you start to feel,” she paused, clicking her tongue, “overly emotional, like really sad or happy or furious…stop. Just stop whatever you’re about to do or say. Close your eyes, think of a peaceful place and take in a deep calming breath, and then count to ten.” She paused, chuckling. “Sometimes twenty.” She brushed curls behind my ear that had escaped my ponytail. “When you open your eyes, try to think rationally and calmly. It won’t always work because sometimes pregnancy tends to just take over, but it does help.”
I nodded. That sounded reasonable. Something I could handle.
Mom cocked her head and said, “Now that you know how I got through my pregnancy, I want to ask you a question.” I nodded again, staying mute, and she asked slowly, “I know your generation is different from mine, but personally, in here,” Mom placed her hand over my heart, “who do you believe runs a household? The man or the woman?”
That gave me pause, and I thought about it while Mom took her hand back, patiently waiting for my answer. I was an extremely independent woman. I believed in women’s lib, and all that. And ever since I had been on my own, a free adult so to speak, I had become even more independent. But…
Down deep, my family roots were buried in my heart, not just in my head where the independent part of me lived strong. My parents had raised me with Christian values. I had grown up in a loving, truly happy home where my dad was the head, my mom the neck. That part of me was just too engrained to come up with anything different.
I stated, “The man.” I held up my hand when Mom started to speak. “But I firmly believe it should be a partnership. Not one cowering behind the other. The man and woman should have the same say,” I sighed, “but, in the end, I do believe the man is the protector and has the final say.”
Mom’s lips twitched. “Your generation has so many problems. And I believe this to be the starting point.” She sighed. “Sweetie, in a nutshell, you can’t have your cake and eat it, too.” I blinked at her, and she placed a hand on my cheek. “A committed relationship, any type of committed relationship, is hard. It’s constant work once those sweet feelings of first love vanish and reality sets in. You state the man is the head of the household but say you want a partnership.” She tapped my forehead. “You’re confusing yourself. Yes, a committed relationship is a partnership of sorts. The man and the woman should always have communication between them. And no one should ever cower behind the other, but you have to have a leader in the household. Be it man or woman, there has to be a leader. If you have two leaders constantly battling it out about everything, it doesn’t make for a contented relationship. It just makes for a lot of small fights, which could possibly end up as one huge one.”
I didn’t totally agree with what she was saying. And she was probably right about why. My generation was a lot different from hers. “I can’t agree with all that. I do believe the man should have the final say, yes, but that doesn’t mean it has to be ‘his’ final say.”
Mom’s lips twitched. “No. It doesn’t always have to be ‘his’ final say. But communication is the key. If you’ve made a good match, the man will see your side,” she chuckled, “sometimes more times than not.” She held up a finger. “As long as you know how to communicate properly, which doesn’t include screaming at one another.” She paused. “Although I’m woman enough to say sometimes it does come to that.”
“How do I get someone like Daniil to listen to me without screaming at each other?”
She smiled, and it was a knowing smile. “Daniil is a very strong man. But he does have a weakness.”
I waited patiently.
Her grin grew in my silence, appearing tickled by my confusion. “You, sweetie. His weakness is you as much as it pains me to say it.” She chuckled, shaking her head. “Honestly, other than the knife issue and hitting him tonight, you’ve been doing wonderful from what I can tell. But your conflicting issues,” she tapped my forehead, “got in the way tonight. From what your father said, Daniil actually said he was going to walk away from the situation before he said something rude. That takes a lot for a man of his caliber to say something like that.”
I blinked. Confusion bared down.
Mom sighed. “Elizabeth, you picked an older man used to getting what he wants. As much as you don’t want to hear this, he does have more experience than you do. Do you know how hard it probably was for him to back away and not call your actions childish?”
My jaw set and my eyebrows snapped together, but Mom kept on. “You need to realize this is his life. He gave you his word…” she paused, clucking her tongue, “…how did you phrase it? Ah, yes. That you would have the final say in those who threaten you as long as you’re not in immediate danger, which I actually agree with. And then, you act as if he isn’t going to stand up to his word once he’s—Daniil, the head of the Russian Mafia—already compromised, a major feet for him.” She paused, cocking her head, stating slowly, “In other words, you threw a hissy fit when you didn’t get your way. That’s how he would see it.”
Jaw still set and eyebrows still together, I hissed, “I just wanted to go in there and make sure he didn’t—” I stopped, realizing I was about to say ‘kill him.’ Daniil had promised me previously he wouldn’t do that. So…I had thrown a fit. I hadn’t trusted him enough to take him at his word when he had never done anything to justify that from me. Instead, I had stomped down the stairs, gung-ho and ready for battle, to make sure it didn’t happen. Though… “What was wrong with me just going in there to listen?”
Mom shook her head. “That’s where the whole man-the-head-of-the-household thing comes into play. You, yourself, said the man should be the protector. Well, that’s what he’s doing. I imagine he’s probably in there intimidating and scaring the crap out of that guy…which, again, I have no problem with.” Her eyes unfocused. “I wouldn’t mind having a few minutes alone with the man myself.”
That look she had on her face freaked me out a little, so I stated, “Remember that trick, Mom. I think you need it.”
She shook her head. “You’ll understand when you’re children are born.” She sighed, shaking her head at me. “If you’re going to continue this relationship with him, you have to understand who he is. You picked him. And again, he is an older man who is used to getting what he wants. Sometimes,” she paused, leaning forward nose-to-nose with me, “you’re just going to have to trust him and do what he says even though you don’t understand. Because you will. In time. You will see what he already knew because sometimes explaining something to someone younger just doesn’t give the life experience justice, and he’s intelligent enough to know it.” She sucked in a breath. “Of course, this wouldn’t happen if you chose someone your own age.”
“No. I pick him,” I stated instantly, even though my mind was racing. I stuttered out, “Do you really think he thinks of me as a child?”
Mom snorted, glancing down at my stomach, stating dryly, “No. I don’t believe so.”
I waved my hand at that and then tapped my head. “You know what I meant. Up here.”
Mom’s lips pursed. “Do you sometimes think of him as an older man?”
I licked my lips and nodded slowly. Yeah, his age showed sometimes.
Mom nodded slowly, “Then, to be brutally honest, sweetie, I would have to say yes. He most likely does think that sometimes.” She studied me as I tried to process that.
I really hated that. I despised feeling inferior.
Mom asked softly, “Is that a deal breaker?”
I glanced away
from her. “I don’t know.” I paused, asking, “Does that mean he thinks I’m stupid?”
Mom pulled my chin around, staring me in the eyes, hers soft and loving. “He’s a very intelligent man. More so than I can probably imagine with all the cunning he has to do having four strong-willed children as he has. So, with that said, no, he doesn’t think that. He’s smart enough to realize, it’s just inexperience on your part, not ignorance.”
“You think so?”
“I know so.” She sighed, releasing my chin. “I still can’t believe I’m helping him, but I’ve seen the respect and caring in his eyes when he looks at you when you’re not watching him.”
That startled me since I hadn’t obviously seen it. I thought through what she said before. “You said I was his weakness.”
Mom nodded, a small smile lifting her lips. “I saw him lose it, protecting you in his gym, and then he kissed you like you were his singular sun.” She nodded. “Yes, you’re his weakness, sweetie.”
We were both silent, and soon, my lips were smiling softly like hers. “The age difference isn’t a deal breaker. It’s just something I’ll have to deal with better instead of ignoring it.” Daniil had apparently been dealing with it already since he had tried to back away from me, seeing I wasn’t going to understand before. It was time for me to take some responsibility and trust in the man I had chosen.
Mom patted my leg, and I asked her about her work since I hadn’t gotten to that yet. Dad walked in, handing me my glasses, watching me carefully—almost making me laugh at him. Yeah, I was the big scary pregnant psycho. Sadly, Ember probably wasn’t too far off the mark earlier. So, I listened to my mom tell me how she had been canned today, pretty much getting the same treatment I had gotten today.
Dad held her from behind, placing a small kiss on her forehead, seeing through her masked upset as I did. My parents were… Well, they were infuriating most of the time, but I couldn’t ask for a more loving and unselfish pair. They were still making sacrifices for me. Just like I knew I would when I had my children. I sniffled a little and hugged them both, earning chuckles from them. And then, I sat back down and helped my mom and dad go through the recipe books—that looked new—and waited for Daniil to come and get me.
The decision wasn’t hard. Not at all.
I had thought it would be, but it wasn’t.
Daniil walked into the kitchen, his fury barely in check. He stood rigid just inside the door and stated in a low voice, “Beth…” That was all he said. His fists were clenched, and his knuckles were red and almost raw—as if he had beaten someone with his fists.
I stood, and using my better judgment—opposed to how I had early—I walked over to him and followed him out of the kitchen. As soon as we were out of everyone’s sight, I placed my hand on his elbow, gently turning him. And then I wrapped my arms up and around his neck, hugging him in what I hoped was a comforting embrace.
He shuddered hard and instantly wrapped his arms around me, pulling me in close. Dropping his head to my shoulder, he then began speaking softly, telling me what this man had planned. Apparently, he was working alone. Just an outright hater of Daniil and everything Daniil loved. He had been here for months trying to find a way to hurt him. And what he had planned…God, the man was sick.
Daniil held nothing back. Like normal. He told me that the man had planned to kidnap me, take me over to Russia, and place me in the dregs of the prostitution ring…like had happened to someone else Daniil had loved. He didn’t tell me who, and I didn’t ask, but he continued explaining what would have happened to me from the man’s accounting. Oh, and the lovely kicker that I would have been cut a zillion times in the process until I eventually bled out.
I managed to stay strong through it since it appeared Daniil was not at this moment, and I was smart enough to know Daniil was also telling me all these details so I would let him kill the guy. But…the way Daniil recounted what the man said hit a certain ‘vibe’ with me.
So, I asked softly, “I know you don’t want me to do this, but before I make any kind of a decision, I would like to meet him.”
Daniil stiffened around me, and I continued in a hurry, “Just thirty seconds. That’s all.”
He stood there for a good two minutes, just breathing heavily against my neck before he finally stood. And nodded. “I understand.”
I shook my head because I really didn’t think he did. “It’s not because I don’t trust you. I believe everything you said. It’s just that I’ve,” I shook my head side to side slowly, “got this feeling from what you said. I want to see if I’m right.”
Daniil’s body visibly relaxed—some. “Okay.” He paused, hesitating before saying, “He’s a little bloody.”
I tapped his knuckles. “I’m sure he is. And I’d hoped you wore gloves. Diseases are passed through blood, you know.”
Daniil nodded, a small smile lifting his lips. “The leather rubbed my knuckles wrong.”
I nodded once curtly. “All right.” I gestured down the hallway, and we both began walking toward his study. “I’m sorry about earlier.”
He placed his hand on the small of my back, his palm huge against it. “It’s all right. I understand that, too.”
“The pregnancy does things…,” I trailed off but said after a small hesitation, “I also realize I was behaving a little childishly. I’ll try to work on that.”
He pulled me closer so our sides brushed as we walked. “Thank you.” He paused, stating slowly, “And I’ll also try to remember this is America. And you want your free-fucking-will and free-fucking-dom.”
I couldn’t help the embarrassed chuckled that escaped even as I elbowed him playfully in the ribs. “Leave me alone. That was inexperience and hormones talking.”
He nodded, grinning softly. “It was a very impassioned speech. Not one I’ll forget anytime soon. In fact, I may have you initiate any new bodyguards I have. You’ll whip them right into shape.” His eyes were crinkling down at me as I crinkled my nose up at him. “But I’ll try not to be so overbearing. It’ll take some time…if I can manage it.”
I stood up on my tiptoes and hopped, kissing his cheek in mid-stride. “Thank you.”
And then we were at the studies door. I sucked in a breath and reached out turning the door handle. I had mentally prepared myself for the worst. But when I viewed the man sitting in the center of the study in a lone chair with his hands and ankles tied to the arms and legs of it, I was a little shocked. Daniil had held back. Yes, the man was bloody, but not like I had expected.
He was a ‘dirty’ looking man with mud brown hair and brown eyes with a normal build and normal facial features, but he had a swelling cheek, blood running down a busted lip and nose, and…well, maybe his right leg was broken. But, all in all, he didn’t look like he was pouring blood from anywhere significant like I had thought most likely with what Daniil had said. He had most definitely held back.
Walking into the room, I glanced around seeing a shit ton—more than I realized were here on Daniil’s property—of bodyguards standing silently against the walls around the room. Grigori was standing off to the side looking decidedly pissed the fuck off, and Kirill stood next to him, watching the man with hard eyes. Slowly, I made my way to this man, Daniil following silently behind me. Daniil had kept his word, so I decided to keep mine and make this short and sweet.
The man smiled at me with blood covering his teeth. “Hello, Elizabeth Forter.”
I stood in front of him, keeping a good four feet of space between us, before bending over and placing my hands on my knees, asking him simply, “Have you ever been diagnosed with a disorder?”
His smile faltered for the barest heartbeat, but he laughed his ass off, spitting blood all down the front of his shirt. “Would you like to be tied up like I am? But have me between your legs?”
I slapped my hands hard, saying loudly, “Focus! I’m asking you a question that will decide your damn fate!” I leaned in a little more and cocked my head,
asking him bluntly and honestly, “Do you want to die? Because that’s what’s going to happen if you don’t answer my damn question. Have you been diagnosed with a disorder of some sort? Gone off your meds maybe?”
He laughed again, staring at me hard. “Such a sweet preacher’s daughter. How I wouldn’t love to taste your pussy. Lick the heavens that are surely there.”
“You. Are. Going. To. Die,” I stated each word clearly. “Do you understand that? Death is scary. Even to the toughest assholes, death is frightening in the end.”
He continued to cackle, spurting off obscenities, and I stood upright, turning to Daniil. Holding out my hand, I asked calmly, “Can I borrow your gun, please?”
He was furious, glaring at the man, but he blinked at my request, his head snapping to me. Staring at me, his eyebrows pulled together, but he nodded slowly, and even more slowly, reached around his back and withdrew his gun. He turned the safety off with a click, and gently placed it in my hand I was holding still—just barely.
I was nervous as hell, but this needed to be done. I gripped its heavy weight, making sure I didn’t drop it and turned back to the man still spouting obscenities. Walking a few paces to his left, I moved in and when he could see me, I took a deep, calm breath and placed the gun to his temple.
“Do you understand death?” I asked quietly. “I know you understand I am the preacher’s daughter. So, I have it on pretty good authority where you’ll go when I pull this trigger. You will go to Hell. You will burn in agony. Burn for the rest of eternity. Every second, of every day, of every year, of every decade for the rest… of… your… life. You will burn. The most horrific pain you can imagine will be bestowed upon you. And you will begin to pray to a God, who won’t answer your prayers because He won’t be able to hear you. Because you made this choice. Here. On earth. Here and now. And you will burn.” I paused, leaning in closer and pressing the gun harder into his temple, whispering, “So, I’ll ask you again. Do you understand death?”
And…he laughed again. And more vulgar indecencies flew through the air at me.
Obsidian Mask Page 23
