by Kresley Cole
Which meant he could never find out my past. Cold-as-Ice Vice was officially buried. I would put away my decks of cards, my costumes, my fake IDs, and wigs forever. I’d hide my past and keep my family separated from him as much as possible—and as long as possible.
I launched myself at him and hugged him hard, my tears wetting his shirt. “If I have my own money, I can buy anything I want?”
His voice was thick as he said, “Name it, ángel, and it’s yours.”
I drew back to face him. “I need to get my husband a wedding ring.”
He swallowed, and could only nod.
________________________________________
___________________________________
“I wish you were here to celebrate with us!” Karin cried over the music playing in the background.
The cartel had accepted the payment and cut us loose! Wham, bam, thank you, ma’am.
They were out of our lives forever.
My family had been drunk-texting me for hours.
“I know. I miss you guys.” My tone was hushed; once Dmitri had fallen asleep, I’d sneaked into the bathroom and briefly spoken to the less hammered members of my family.
Mom and Dad had sounded like their old selves for the first time in months.
Even over the tunes on the other end of the line, I heard a champagne cork popping.
Karin said, “I still can’t believe you got the guy, the ring, and the money—plus some serious gratis on top. Well done, sis. We applaud your grift sense.”
I’d told her all about my angst, as well as Dmitri’s promises to spoil our family. I’d begged them never to let my husband know what we were.
Which meant instant retirement for the Valentines. “Is everyone good with stepping out of the game? I mean, Dmitri did say I could spend money however I like. I’ll set up accounts for you guys.”
“Your husband gave us an extra two million dollars. That’s going to take some time even for us to blow.” She laughed. “Gram is shitfaced and threatening to steal ‘rich Dmitri’ from you, and Al is lecturing everyone on the generosity of Russians in general. I dramatically vowed to send Walker back every dime he’s sent me, plus interest. And maybe a little note along the lines of, Thanks, but we’ve got it from here.”
“I think that’s a great idea.”
“Apparently he needs the money more than I do. Rumor says he’s going bankrupt. Ironic, huh?”
“Never would’ve seen that coming.”
“Enough about him. Can you believe this day?”
I glanced over my shoulder in Dmitri’s direction. If there was ever an example of me reaching for the stars . . .
“But, Vice?” Karin said, rousing me from my thoughts. “You know we celebrate our wins whenever we get one, and we’re delighted to be off the hook. But the general consensus around here . . .”
“Tell me.” Though I knew what she was about to say.
“Watch yourself. Dmitri Sevastyan is too good to be true.”
CHAPTER 31
________________________________________
___________________________________
I woke from an afternoon nap to find Dmitri sitting up against the headboard, staring out at the mist over the water. He wore only broken-in jeans, his chest bare.
I’d never seen him this still when awake. And his eyes were so vulnerable. What was he thinking about in his mixed-up mind? Reliving the past? Or imagining his future?
With me.
For the last two weeks, a dense fog had blanketed the property, magnifying the unseen splashes out in the ocean and the haunting gull cries. Dmitri and I had been running the fires throughout the house.
Though this magical place had begun to appear eerie, I liked the gothic atmosphere. I was out in the middle of nowhere, alone with my enigmatic husband. Except I was no helpless waif. I skipped into that toy room every night and delighted in choosing things for my wicked man to show me.
These weeks had been wonderful. Three things prevented them from being perfect:
I missed my family.
I missed working—not conning, necessarily, but doing something with a purpose. Like bringing my design ideas to life.
And I kept waiting for the other shoe to drop with my too-good-to-be-true husband.
I studied his compelling face. My antsiness grew each day, and my grift sense had started sounding the call.
Last week, he and I had walked through the woods. We’d been relaxed and enjoying our stroll, but then a briar had snagged my sweater. Dmitri had valiantly rescued me—I’d discovered he loved being my gentleman hero—and we’d continued on. Yet then another briar had caught me shortly after.
My grift sense was like that—a thorn snagging me again and again, no matter how many times Dmitri’s affection and love-making and generosity rescued me. My anxiety kept me from surrendering to this life. From falling all the way for him.
My gaze dipped to his left hand, to his bare ring finger. Though I’d said I would buy him a wedding band—caught up in that moment, in his bigheartedness—I now worried I’d acted rashly.
Rings were symbols; how could I pledge forever to him with all my lies and doubts standing between us?
Dmitri shifted on the bed, interrupting my thoughts. Still staring out the window, he absently traced that faint remnant of a scar. If he’d been suicidal, how much longer could I go without asking him about it?
As if he sensed my internal debate, he turned to me. “You’re awake.”
I sat up against the headboard. “How long was I out?” I wore one of his T-shirts, but only because the housekeeper was here today.
“Not long. I just had tea brought in.” A silver tea service with snacks sat on the end of the huge bed. He poured me a cup with honey, exactly how I liked it.
I took a sip. Delicious.
He sat beside me and reached for my free hand, as if he’d only been waiting for me to wake so he could lace our fingers together.
Life could be so sweet when I forgot myself and lived in the now. He and I rode horses and explored the coast. He’d taken me on two short overnight trips—shopping on Rodeo Drive and sightseeing in San Francisco—easing me into travel.
Whenever we played chess, he won, which made me itch to challenge him at poker. But I’d vowed to turn my back on anything related to my grifter days, even a simple card deck, my beloved rectangle of two and a half by three and a half inches.
After twenty years, my days as a cardsharp were over. Pang.
I took another sip of tea, feeling Dmitri’s gaze. He studied me like he was trying to crack a code.
I’d come close to slipping up a couple of times.
When a restaurant server had been hanging all over him, he’d noted my jealousy. As the woman had sauntered off, he’d teased me, “Remember, I’m legally yours.” Glaring at the woman’s back, I’d snapped, “In that case, I might have some use”—I’d bit my tongue to keep the rest from escaping—for Johnny Law after all.
And, damn it, gaming a parking meter was second nature!
My family would be just as likely to slip up. Parents loved to relate stories about their kids growing up, right? Mom couldn’t exactly tell my gull husband I’d been a “broad tosser” at age four. “Can you keep your eyeth on the queen, thsir?”
I sipped my tea, sighing over the cup.
“What does your family usually do for Thanksgiving?” Dmitri asked.
I swallowed thickly. “Pardon?”
“We could invite them all here.”
I still hadn’t figured out how his visiting with them would work. My dilemma? How much I long to see my family versus how much I fear losing Dmitri.
“We’ll see.” Maybe over time I’d grow more confident in him. Sharing was the key to companionship; once we got to know each other better, he could genuinely fall in love with me, replacing his meteoric flash obsession with something more abiding. If he loved me, his feelings might remain true once he found out what I’d don
e.
But getting to know him was difficult when he still wasn’t talking.
“Vika, this can’t go on much longer. You’ve already missed too many Sundays with them.”
I set my cup aside. “I’ll broach it with them—once you tell me what you fought with Maksim about.”
He exhaled. “In time, I’ll tell you everything,” he said, his go-to answer. “I suppose you’ll have to continue sending your family gifts until we can see them.”
Last week, at his suggestion, I’d shopped online while he worked, buying Benji a super-fly camera; spa days for Mom, Karin, and Gram; golf clubs for Dad, Pete, and Al; toys for Cash and my younger cousins.
At the end of his hour, Dmitri had looked at my purchases. “I need you to feel comfortable spending more.”
“I don’t think that’s possible.” He was no longer a mark I planned to fleece. Had he achieved pack status in my heart yet? No. But he could.
He’d pulled up a spreadsheet on his computer, highlighting a sum. “What we make annually on the patents alone.”
I’d squinted. The length of that number couldn’t be right. I’d rechecked it, but the figure remained unimaginable. “Need . . . to sit . . . down.”
He’d helped me back to the couch. “I want us to spend our lives trying to kill our fortune—no matter how impossible a prospect that might be. Will you try to do better tomorrow? Endeavor to shock me.”
The next day, I’d cracked my knuckles before hitting the computer. I’d purchased cars, wardrobes, jewelry, and thirty cruise tickets. I’d set up a college fund for Cash and bought my parents authentic fine art. Again, I’d shown Dmitri my take (without the mountain bike and gifts I’d secretly ordered for him).
He’d said, “More income came in overnight. You didn’t even scratch the surface. Perhaps tomorrow you will be more aggressive. . . .”
Now he canted his head, forever deciphering my expressions. “If you are anxious, I’m not helping by putting pressure on you. I apologize.” He pressed a kiss to the palm of my hand. “You must have a reason for remaining away from them. I look forward to when you can share it with me.”
Guh. He was too good to be true.
I kept hearing Karin’s warning, reinforcing my own experience, yet I couldn’t prevent my feelings from growing. My mom had said people got greedy. That they knew better, but they chose to ignore all the warning signs.
I was greedy for Dmitri.
And yet I knew so little about him. Dip a toe, Vice. “When I woke, you were staring out at the water.” And touching your scar. “What were you thinking about?”
“Myriad things.”
“Such as . . .”
“You should have had a period by now,” he said, taking me off guard.
“You noticed?” My eyes widened. “Oh, wait, did you think . . . ? Dmitri, I took my pills straight through, so I wouldn’t start this month.”
His broad chest rose and fell on a deep breath.
“You’re relieved?” I frowned. “But you want children.”
“Not yet. We have so many things still to do, and I think a pregnancy would distress you greatly.”
But he’d said I would make an incredible mom. “Why do you believe that?”
“Because you have no idea what kind of father I’d be. How could you when I’ve told you little of my family or of myself?” He was providing me an opening!
“We could remedy that.”
He squared his shoulders, as if bracing for a hit. “What do you want to know?”
Impulsively, I brushed my fingers over the scar on his wrist.
He stiffened, pulling his hand from mine. “You are very observant, aren’t you?” Details are my job. Or they used to be. “Even I can barely detect it. I had the scar removed by laser a few months back, for when I eventually married.”
“Dmitri, the sight of it doesn’t bother me. But . . . did you try to commit suicide?”
Curt nod. “Years ago. Maksim stopped me before I could do my other arm.”
When I thought of how close it must have been . . . Thank you, Maksim!
Dmitri gazed away. “I’d made sure not to say anything out of the ordinary—in what I’d thought would be our last conversation—but my brother must’ve detected something in my tone. To this day, I don’t know what made him drive over.”
“Why did you do it?” How physically and mentally excruciating taking a blade to one’s own flesh would be!
He was clearly weighing how much to tell me. “I couldn’t imagine a better life because . . . I didn’t know that there would be you.”
Those lifeline looks? Might really be lifelines! Did he comprehend how much pressure he was putting on me?
He faced me with a frown. “That’s one of those things I shouldn’t have said out loud, isn’t it?”
This was too much responsibility for another human’s happiness. What if our marriage didn’t work out?
I was just a freaking grifter!
We stared into each other’s eyes until I felt calm enough to say, “Will you explain what pushed you to try to take your own life?”
He scrubbed his hand over the back of his neck. “Maksim told me I would have to reveal everything from my past for us to move forward. Do you believe that?” Dmitri was genuinely asking for my advice.
“I think it can be very helpful.” I remembered Benji, struggling, in so much pain. “My adopted brother had a traumatic childhood. If he’d kept everything bottled up, I believe it would have destroyed him.”
Dmitri rose to pace. “And he is better now?”
“It’s taken years. But, yeah.” I didn’t get the sense Dmitri truly wanted to talk, more like he was checking off something unpleasant in order to solidify our marriage. “Don’t talk to me just to tick a box.”
“Perhaps if I shared my past, you would tell me more about yours. I want you to. I want us . . .” He eased his pacing to face me. “Are we getting closer?”
“Do you want to know if we’re bonding?”
“Precisely.”
“I think so. Do you?”
He nodded. “Each minute I spend with you, I crave a thousand more. I wake and see your head on my chest, and I feel as if I live within a fantasy.”
Heart thud. “My toes curl whenever you say things like that. But then I wonder how you can feel so strongly when we still don’t know a lot about each other.”
He opened his mouth to say something, then must’ve rethought it. “When I suspected you might be pregnant, part of me welcomed the idea, because a child would bond us.”
It hadn’t with Walker and Karin. “Dmitri, there are other ways for us to get closer.”
Gazing away again, he said, “I will . . . I’m ready to talk about my past.” He settled onto the bed and drew back against the headboard once more. “What do you think happened to me?”
I wouldn’t flinch from this. “After your father died, you were sent to live with someone who sexually abused you.”
He blew out a breath. “You are very perceptive. But actually, he was sent to us.”
CHAPTER 32
________________________________________
___________________________________
“I . . . it was very long ago.” Dmitri seemed to be losing his nerve.
“How old were you when it started?”
He cleared his throat. “Seven years old. From seven to nine.”
So young, an innocent little boy. My protectiveness for Dmitri burned like an inferno. “Was the man supposed to be a guardian?” Someone in a position of trust.
“Yes. His name was . . . Orloff.” Dmitri’s fists clenched. “He . . . molested me, and many other children before me. Both boys and girls. He physically abused Maksim, beating him and locking him in a dark cellar for months.”
I eased closer to him. “I’m so sorry, Dmitri.”
“I don’t know if I want to tell you these things yet. I cannot tolerate pity.”
“You don’t have to tal
k to me before you’re ready, but you should know I could never pity the man you’ve become.”
Placated, he said, “Orloff wasn’t the first to abuse us. My father was a violent drunk. My earliest memories are of him beating me and my brothers and my mother. Especially at night. In the winter, night was unending.”
My God. No wonder he and his brothers rarely drank.
“When I was almost six, I woke to a horrific argument. My father had taken issue with something trivial Aleks and Maksim had done, was bent on punishing them. He sounded more enraged than I’d ever heard him. Desperate to protect them, my mother fought back. He shoved her down the stairs.” Voice gone thick, Dmitri said, “I will never forget the sudden quiet. I sensed she was gone, but terror of my father kept me from going to her. He left my mother for me to find the next morning.”
I would give anything to have spared him that! When I thought of Dmitri as a terrified boy, I wanted to hold him, but he looked like he might bolt at any second.
In a lower tone, he said, “I only recently told my brothers she died to protect us.”
Dmitri’s words: provide infinite patience, love unconditionally, and safeguard with your life. His mother had given her life to safeguard her sons. “You must have missed her so much.”
His expression turned fierce. “I need you to understand: there was nothing she could do. There were no shelters. If she’d run with us, my powerful father would have found her. Even if she somehow managed to escape him in the winter with three young sons, she had nowhere to go.”
He thought I would judge his beloved mother. “Dmitri, it was a different time and place, a world away from what I know. I would never question her actions.” But I would judge her abuser.
Seeming satisfied with my vehement answer, Dmitri continued, “When Aleks was only thirteen, our father would’ve done the same to him. Aleks defended himself, accidentally killing the man instead. Fearing he’d go to jail, my brother fled, leaving me and Maksim behind. Orloff arrived shortly after.”
So much violence and horror. “That’s why you hadn’t spoken to Aleks in so long.” Because he hadn’t been there when Dmitri had very badly needed him to be. At seven, Dmitri had needed a protector.
